Seline's Little Hobby

I’ve always enjoyed writing. I always got top marks for it at school. Mostly Es, sometimes Ds when I had an off day.“I’m sure we all wish we could write like you, Seline,” my teacher used to say. Made me really proud.

I stopped after I left school because I was too busy looking after Mam. She was quite old so she needed a lot of looking after. It was so sad when she left us. One minute there she was sitting in her usual chair smoking her pipe.

“I’m just off down the shops for a slice of Emmental,” I said and she just sort of nodded and waved at me. I just love cheese, especially the kind with big holes. Senga, she’s my friend, says you can taste the holes. We had a tasting session once. We got all these different kinds of cheese; blue, orange, pink, green and sat and ate them while we watched Parkinson. I got a bit sick. Anyway when I got back from the shops there she was, gone. I searched the house but there was no sign of her. Senga helped me search round about. We tried the pub and the Legion and the PDSA but no, she’d really gone.

It was a month later I got the postcard. Sorry luv, couldn’t take any more, having a lovely time etc. that’s all it said. It was from Paris or Panama or one of those places. It began with a ‘P’ or maybe it was Amsterdam, anyway it meant I’d no-one to look after so I needed something to fill up the time. I took up writing again. I mean I was good at it and lots of people publish books these days, so I thought I would too.

There was an advert for a writers’ circle in our local paper. Actually it was for a Wirters’ Circle but I guessed what they meant. I thought I might be able to help them so I went along on Tuesday night.

They met at the community centre. “Can you tell me where the writers’ thing meets,” I said to the man at the desk.

“Writers, hah,” he said. He wrinkled his nose up like there was a bad smell. That wasn’t a very good start.

“Yes, can you tell me where they meet?”

“Right lot of loonies if you ask me.”

I was going to say that I hadn’t, but he looked rather cross.

“I just want to know what room they’re in. I want to join.”

“It’s room twelve top of the stairs but you’d be better doing tapestry in thirteen.”

“Thank you but I’m a writer you see. I don’t do tapestry.”

“You’re on your own luv just watch out for that dragon that takes the class. Bite your head right off she would.”

I think that’s what we call a figure of speech. He’s not really saying she’s a dragon, not with fire and so on. Just that she looks like a dragon without the scales and the big mouth.

“Thank you for your time,” I said

“Watch you’re back, luv,” he said. “Not that it’s no skin of my nose.”

I climbed the steps and found room twelve at the top. There was frosted glass in the door and I could see there were people inside.

I knocked and went in. They all stopped talking and stared at me. There were ten of them sitting round a big square of tables. There was a woman at the top.

“Hello,” I said. “You must be the dragon. I’ve come to join. I thought you might need help. I’m a writer see.”

She just sat there staring at me. “It’s Seline. Seline Allbright. You may have heard of me. I was in the Courier last week. They interviewed me about that silly accident in Tesco. They shouldn’t keep things on the top shelf.”

A couple of the class laughed. She glared at them and they stopped. I put my hand out and she shook it.

“Amy, Amy Walters is the name. Welcome to our little group, Seline. Just have a seat and join in when you want.”

There was only one empty seat so I sat between two men.

“Hello, I’m Seline,” I said to the one on my right. He was an old man with grey hair.

“John,” he said and shook my hand.

“Hello, I’m Seline,” I said to the one on my left. He had long black hair and a beard.

Amyamy coughed. “Seline, we try not to have conversations among ourselves.”

I searched in my pocket until I found it then I threw it across the table to her.

“It’s a barley sugar,” I said. “It’ll help your cough. Sorry it’s a bit fluffy.”

She coughed again but she never tried it. Some people are so ungrateful.

“We were just listening to some poems, Seline. We bring a piece of work along each week for discussion, but don’t worry you don’t have to do anything this week.

“I’ve got a poem,” I said. “In fact I’ve got dozens. I’ll read you one if you like.”

She looked round the table as if she was expecting someone to say something but nobody did.

“Well, all right, let’s hear your poem, Seline.” She didn’t sound very enthusiastic. I don’t suppose she hears many good poets.

I felt in my handbag for the paper I’d brought with me. It was right at the bottom underneath my Swiss army knife and the wooden pear I’d bought in yon new shop on Simpson Road. You know the one next to Ann Summers. That’s the place with all the pants in the window. Senga had a look in there last week. She said I should take a peek inside and I might find something useful. She winked and tapped the side of her nose. I’ll give it a try but their pants only seem to come in small sizes. Anyway I found my notebook. I turned to the right page and stood up.

 

“The bird is on the wing they say

But I think that’s absurd

For surely anyone can see

The wing is on the bird”

 

They all just sat there when I’d finished. Amyamy had her mouth open and was staring at me.

Eventually she said, “This is a joke, right?” She sounded a bit nervous and sort of half smiled.

“It is a bit funny, I suppose,” I said.

She burst out laughing and everyone joined in. I didn’t think it was that funny but at least they had enjoyed it. It’s nice to see people enjoying themselves.

“I can read you another one,” I said.

“I’m sure we’d love to hear that, Seline, but...”

 

“The hens were outside clucking

While the farmer’s wife was...”

 

“I think Seline that we should leave it there and give someone else a chance, don’t you?”

“Of course,” I said, although I thought it was a little rude of her to interrupt. It’s not a long poem and the punch line is good.

The man with grey hair beside me stood up and said he had a poem to read out. He called it a high cow. I didn’t understand what he meant. The poem was very short and had no rhyme at all. I don’t think he’d put much effort into it and it had nothing to do with farming but Amyamy liked it. It’s a good thing we’re all different and like different things. ‘Just as well we’re not all like you, Seline,’ Mam used to say.

“Can you tell me where the toilets are?” I whispered to him when he sat down. “I need to go.”

“Just down stairs and on the left,” he whispered.

I stood up and said, “I’ve got to go.”

“Please, Seline, you must take your turn and not interrupt.” She was going quite red in the face.

“No, I need to go to the toilet. It’s my bladder, see. Doctor Campbell says...”

“Yes, yes.” She waved her hand in the air. “Please go.”

I stopped at the door. I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. “It’s the excess pressure see and they had to twist the...”

“Seline, please. Please go.”

She was an awful one for interrupting. I opened the door.

“Can I read another poem when...”

“Yes, yes. Well...yes. Just go.”

The rest of the group had started muttering among themselves.

“I’ll be back in five minutes.”

She had started another coughing fit so I left. I found the loos easy. I’d been in there for a couple of minutes, it takes me a while see due to the twisting, when there was a noise outside. There were people clattering down the stairs and talking. Someone said “Ssssh”. Quite right too. People are so inconsiderate.

When I finished I headed upstairs again but the man at the desk shouted after me.

“Oi, you’re wastin’ your time, doll.”

“I am not,” I said. “Writing’s creative and other things.”

“Well they’ve gone.”

“Gone?”

“Gone home, finished early. Prior commitments the dragon said.”

I looked at my watch. It was only 8.30. They’d finished an hour early.

“She never told me.”

“Well I told yer, didn’t I? Shower of loonies they are. Pure dead barking.”

Oh well, perhaps I will try tapestry next week. I’m a dab hand with buttons. It’s amazing what you can do with a needle and thread.