WRITERS IN THE PARK

Well, it actually happened.  We distributed leaflets, Rhys went out at night in the rain and put up laminated posters on lamp posts in the village and we waited. Eight women have signed up for the creative writing workshops I'll be facilitating-am facilitating- in the park opposite my house.
       Last year I participated in a course, run by the Orchard Foundation for writers who want to facilitate creative 'writing for well-being' groups. This writing has an emphasis on process rather than product. It is writing for personal exploration, development and reflection, used to think into or differently about issues, communities, organisations ,projects, values, intentions, and writing creatively in ways that can influence wellbeing.
       As I walked down the path to the pavilion pulling the new shopping trolley with the Aztec design  that Rhys had  got me cheap at the cobbler/keymaker's in Whitchurch, I wondered what people might think I'm doing. I thought rather wistfully as myself as the little old lady who carries her words round in a trolley. My trolley was full of my files and books, but also coffee cups and all the domestic paraphernalia you need when you're setting up a group in a park. I also thought something could go wrong right now, like I might go over on my ankle, fall,  lose control of my trolley-off my trolley so to speak- so when I arrived to find the pavilion in darkness I wasn't totally unprepared. No electricity. The park keeper didn't have a torch and neither of us could think of the words  'fuse box.' 'What's it called? That thing you press down like switches?' 'I know what you mean. Er,er?'  When we did, it was too dark to find it. No electricity means no heating and no hot water. No coffee or tea. Calamity!
          One member was already walking down to meet me, so I headed her off at the pass, told her I'd be back and to keep her coat on. We could be adjoining the workshop to our dining room.
          I sped back to our house, almost getting run over in the process, when I spied three more members of the group. I quickly explained and ushered them in to my dining room, while Rhys tried to open up the dining room table and find nine chairs.
       I ran back to the pavilion with a torch and by this time the park keeper had found the word and the actual fuse box. And we had light... and heating and hot water. What we didn't have was indoor toilets, so it was an adventure going out in the chilling sleet for a pee. Wouldn't have been so bad if you could see where you were peeing but the electricity was off there too. They also looked like they hadn't been cleaned since the summer. I made a mental note to bring bleach and soap next time in my words trolley. Off to a flying start. don't you think?


PS The lovely group rallied round, made me coffee, settled me down and eventually we had a good morning writing for well being.