A Few Days by the Sea

A FEW DAYS BY THE SEA Words and Sketches from Aberystwyth - July 2007

Introduction Welcome to the 14th edition of the creative writing composed on the annual trip to Aberystwyth University.

This year the look is quite different: a joint collaboration between the photography and English departments has created a superb blend of words and images. The photography students were given the brief of capturing “evidence of human activity” discovered in and around Aberystwyth; the English students ideas prompted by workshops targeting poetic language and prose narrative. The result is a concentrated blend of images, senses and highly imaginative worlds.

This of course was the worst summer weather for years. We battled foul weather in our quest for powerful writing. At Borth the sun receded and a tempest followed. The Farewell Inn offered tea and shelter, as well as their highly eccentric Antique clothes and accessories upstairs. Several students emerged with fin-de siecle clothing in the manner of Lautrec or the doomed painter Suzanne Valadon.

The rain, the antique clothing and the tea seemed to mix well together, and even a dog barking outside stopped and seemed to smile.

What I chiefly remember about the trip is the warmth, bonhomie and charm of Cadbury students. It is wonderful to see real talent blossoming under such agreeable circumstances. I can’t help but think that this is a paradigm of real and actual education.

I would also like to acknowledge the efforts of several colleagues in making the trip such a joy. To Gill and Graham for their fascinating ventures into the world of psychology and eye witness testimony work. To Christina and Gareth for their highly imaginative photography work. To Georgia and Roy for their film production (viewing to come). To Peter Barry, professor in English at the University for his wonderful presentation on sources in literature. To Ed Plumley and Andy Morton for their intelligence and wit. I would also like to acknowledge Chris Webster, lecturer in Fine Art at the University for his informative tour and use of facilities and to Gareth for his help in the production of this publication.

And finally to all the students for their humour, intelligence and soul.

Have a good year. . . words: Nigel Green image: Amy Hinton - Kench

A World Apart They sit side by side, hand in hand, A world apart.

No amount of chit-chat, light conversation Can fill the void which lies between them now.

Their fingertips are locked, entwined; Hiding the cracks.

words: Emma Jayne Bagnall image: HÊlène Thierry

She wandered She wandered lonely on the pier Her face was full of grief and fear, No spark could grace her lifeless eyes Consumed by guilt, weighed down by lies, The dancing waves they offered hope For with the sea she could elope, Releasing her from all the pain And letting her begin again.

words: Philipa Barker image: Rosie Richards

Lightly Don’t tread on my dreams, They are mine, And mine to keep, Silence is as brittle as ice, But can be broken easily.

So can my dreams.

Don’t tread on my dreams, They are mine and mine to keep.

words: Hayley Forrest image: Fiona McGillivray

I am a world of imagination and creation. I could make you great, or make you a picture you stick on your fridge. I could write a beautiful novel, or a symphony, but most commonly I am used to doodle on schoolwork. I could be a source of inspiration or great frustration. You could love me or you could hate me. I am your tool, your key, to a better life, to riches, to fame and fortune, to a love letter or a neat, straight line graph. I both write the rules and break them. I set instructions and don’t often follow them. I am strict and supple, creative and created, but mostly I am extremely varied. I am an honest liar. It all depends on you. I don’t help you think, but I always know what you’re thinking. Use me. I could make you great.

I both write the rules and break them.

The Pencil Poem Mistakes wear me down….

Get to the point...

words: Chloe Beard image: Aunika Blake

Developing (a monologue) I own a green Mondeo And develop photographs In a shaded lab near the M6…

As the traffic hammers past, slightly muffled by breeze blocks, I see into the intimate fabric of lives.

I don’t need a life…I have other people’s: Children on beaches with faded red spades & sand between toes, A woman’s hand & a man’s hand gripping the handle of a silver knife, Cutting cake & rigidly smiling, A family standing awkwardly in front of a bouncy castle in Weston-superMare, Faces lined with lives based on tabloids & tea & mobile phones.

I even possess the lives of people in the background of intended people: You know, the man in shorts cycling by as you snap church architecture Or accidentally snap a lamppost in full concrete- neon glory.

Then, despite the delicacy of my latex gloved hands There are the photos that don’t develop : That mass of white and grey spectral muse, That Jackson Pollocked park scene or Randomised-atomised silver bubble collage That should have been filled with your life But now could fill an avant-garde art gallery.

Perhaps I will someday see a photo of me, And see myself, Possess myself, Only, I wouldn’t recognise myself.

I don’t know who I am.

I haven’t developed.

On the M6 a speed camera snaps a green Mondeo. words: Nigel Green image: Ayesha Jones

words: image:

Abber Happily squander our time away, here in earth’s back garden, Then walk in shoes just to wear them out.

We can cause a cacophony as we trudge over pebbles our steps never traced.

Lets us be in awe of surrounding silence and, if need be, elude ourselves to big open blue.

Yeah that’ll do!

words: Anon image: Fiona McGillivray

Graceful How graceful she falls.

No-one was ever really watching her.

And no-one actually cared.

She was never loved and she knew it.

She had a lot to live for and a lot to gain from life.

But She saw herself through others eyes – those pains of stained glass to the soul.

She was never loved and she knew it.

How graceful she falls?

words: Hayley Forrest image: Nadia Chowdhury

words: image:

A Muse Of Bone Cotton-budded in the helicopter sun and seagull-swept I sit through cuckooed dawns & mullioned swallowed evenings Shandybassed and double-eyed.

Through diesel days and purple turbaned moons Harpsicord and harped I wheeze a tune of moan & poems, Liquorished and dapple-dewed.

Shoehorned shy & muzzled I wait cockle shelled and herring-boned Beneath crab tree skies and cigar stars For sound and sense to slip together, To tune in and turn on to A muse of bone.

words: Nigel Green image: Anisa Fazal

Fixed You’re oblivious to the fact of what’s going on around you, You hold each other close and hope that for a moment you become one.

Inseparable.

Close than ever.

You fail.

Certain things are fixed that way.

Like eyelashes, occasionally one falls out and allows you to make a wish.

Your not five anymore, And wishes don’t come true.

The closest things you have to wishes are dreams.

But you dream no more.

Your eyes are wide shut, And you want to dream.

words: Hayley Forrest image: Amy Hinton - Kench

Angels or devils The grey white clouds that almost seem fake merge with the deep pools of blue to form nothing – yet everything.

If only more things could seem like one, If heaven and hell could be one – impossible.

The burning depths of hell, awaiting new arrivals – the cracking of whips and chains condemning new souls could not possibly merge with heaven.

Hells dogs too ravenous to care – only wanting to be unleashed.

The lightness of the waves up there couldn’t compare to the depths that people fear. Souls waiting to see the pearly gates polished to perfection, While others are chained and bound to an eternity of malice.

For some there’s hope, For others, there’s nothing.

words: Hayley Forrest image: Hélène Thierry

words: image:

Safe keeping Your life is in your hands.

In the palms of your hands you can put your life.

In your heart you can keep your love for someone that only you know.

But where do memories go?

In your heart for the ones you lost – no matter how hard you try you cant bring them back, thoughts and meaningful words come flooding into your mind like waves brushing against the shore.

You can’t ask them – you expect an answer, but never get one.

There’s no reply.

There are so many things that I wish to ask you.

Wishes don’t come true anymore, Your parents would tell you they did so that you could believe in something.

Well I believed in you, I hung on ever word you said – but you speak no more and it saddens me.

Why don’t you speak to me?

Why you? That is one question that plays over in my mind all the time and like a bruised woman I put on my sunglasses so that no-one can see me cry.

I know that people still think of you, and so do I. You knew me – everything about me and I’ve become a hollow shell. Like the cracked shells you find on the beach as a child. The inhabitants moved out – gone – just like you.

You’re here no more but you are always with me.

Where do you keep your memories?

I know where I keep mine. words: Hayley Forrest image: Aunika Blake

Aberystwyth Students 2007

The English Group

The Photography Group

Cover image: Rosie Richards Back page image: Anisa Fazal

A collection of creative writing and photographs produced by Cadbury Sixth Form students on a residential trip to Aberystwyth University. This very popular annual enrichment opportunity is attended by over 70 students and gives them a taste of life and work in Higher Education.

words: image: