McCaw Media

Tag: BBC Local Radio Writing Club

  • Short Fiction: Best Before

    One day, if I don’t get to you first, you’ll be as old as me, and you’ll have a kitchen drawer where you’ll keep biros which only work half the time, odd bits of paper for shopping lists, battered boxes of plasters, paracetamols and indigestion tablets, a thermometer, some tweezers, several bits of string that…

  • Poem: A Father Refuses His Daughter’s Choice of Husband

    King Edward was the King of Spuds And Charlotte was his queen. Their daughter, Princess, was The prettiest spud you’ve ever seen. Her father summoned suitors From all across the land To try to impress Princess And maybe win her hand. The suitors all were gathered at A suitor-choosing ball;

  • Poem: She Cleans The Tower Ballroom

    She cleans the Tower ballroom Through the darkness of the night, And when her shift is over She lets her mind take flight. She swaps her battered trainers For strappy sequinned shoes And glides onto the dance floor To blow away her blues. She takes up her position, Elegant in foot and hand, And in…

  • Poem: Better Than Nothin’

    ‘What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?’ The first one asked as he ordered some wine; ‘I’m researching a book that you could help me with,’ She said, ‘It’s all about out-dated chat-up lines,  So push off. Here’s your wine, Sling your hook, go away. I’m not talking to you, not…

  • Poem: What Don’t You Want To Be When You Grow Up?

    I don’t want to be a singer, I don’t want to drive a train. I don’t want to be a teacher, ’Cos teachers are a pain. I don’t want to be a footballer, Don’t want to be a cleaner; Don’t want to work an ice-cream van Or be a ballerina. I don’t want to be…

  • Poem: Why I Don’t Keep a Diary Any More

    To track the year ahead of me, I bought myself a diary. Looking back now, it is clear: This was not a good idea. January – Tried to ski, Ended up in A&E. February – Valentine. Not a single card was mine. March – St Patrick’s celebrations. Drank green beer, had palpitations. April – Shakespeare’s…

  • Memoir: Living Under a Romany Blessing

    ‘Ye’re not scared of buying from a Romany are ye?’ said the old woman at the door one November night. ‘Of course not,’ I said. My granny was born to travelling horse-dealers so no, I wasn’t scared. ‘Blessings be upon ye,’ she said. She was seventy-five if she was a day; a lot younger than…

  • Memoir: Parcelwatching

    I was watching my phone to get some clue as to when my parcel would arrive. It was to come from Peterborough to just outside Cambridge, a distance of some 36 miles. It arrived, 277 miles later. That’s over seven and a half times the distance it should have gone. What had happened? Where had…

  • Poem: My Spam Folder

    The volume of emails coming into your inbox Is often alarming, I think you’ll agree. Thanks heavens we’ve all got our spam filters working Or else we’d be drowning in a spam email sea. My spam filter roots out the dodgy and scammy The grifters, the venal, the thick and the strange; So I’ve braved…

  • Poem: The Usual Routine

    Every morning, seven-fifteen Sydney showered, short but keen, Ate his breakfast, washed the bowl Listening to some rock and roll Flossed and brushed his teeth with care, Cleaned his glasses, combed his hair, Donned his shirt and tie and suit, Pulled on each well-polished boot; Grabbed his briefcase, coat and hat, Left the house and…

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