Taken after the prizegiving at the annual Weekend School of the Scottish Association of Writers, some time ago.
The hairstyle, tha glasses and the frock are all long gone. The trophy, not sure which competition but the person next to me is holding the John Severn Inkwell donated to the SAW by Edinburgh Writers’ Club, was held for a year. The certificate?
Ah well! As most writers, and all of their relatives, know, the certificate will be here or hereabouts still. Paper is never disposed of methodically. That’s why I’m continuing a process begun during Lockdown of sorting and discarding.
I did return three-to-four years of correspondence to my high-school bosom buddy two years ago. I re-read them and what a treasure trove of joy and information they were. Who would have thought that we’d be back to heating the water separately for one bath? We are and the letters showed it wasn’t that long ago when we lived like that all the time.
And the prompt?
I have no entries in any of the upcoming competitions for the SAW weekend, but I am looking forward to the stimulus of being among other writers, of hearing the talks and of picking up one or two new challenges.
In the meantime, the serial progresses, the book group caused me to read the truly wonderful The Master and Margarita and the grandson has given me The Lady Joker. Brain is coping.
How is your own writing going? Will any of you be at the Westerwood SAW?
Anne