Scribble 12 final by Cartwheelarts

Issue 12

Winter 2011

The

PLAY

issue

FREE CREATIVE WRITING MAGAZINE PUBLISHED BY TELL US ANOTHER ONE

hello

Happy New Year and welcome to the playful bitesize edition of Scribble! To help beat the January blues we’re looking at play this season - the games which bring out our competitive side, the memories of learning how to lose gracefully, the things we get up to when we have some free time on our hands and a vast array of other interpretations on the theme. We also have lots of info on our latest projects and want your feedback on this playful little magazine size. Join our online poll and tell us if we should stick to this or go back to the bigger format (see page 40). Enjoy the latest instalments! Emma Melling Editor

Photos: Brian Slater and Maurice Jones

tell us another one chapter twelve We have been busy bees since the Autumn issue of Scribble, largely planning exciting projects for the new year. Workshops in Oldham will soon begin for Folklove, a lyrical project exploring folk stories about love found in music and sharing stories from South Asian Mehndis (pre-wedding rituals) and English folk culture. Soapbox - a radio soap where the whole school chooses the fate of key characters will also begin in the new year with pupils at Falinge Park High School, Rochdale. Verbatim Langley - an intergenerational project will use interviews with the people of Langley to create a play about local history and well known characters in the area. We will be creating a book about reducing food waste in the style of a recipe book in Deeplish, Rochdale too. One project which ran over the Winter was Mind Image - an animation about body image and self-perception that girls at Robin Hill Youth Centre in Oldham have been making.

Coming Out Poet I have a deep dark secret, That nobody but me knows. I can’t get enough of poetry, Or even writing prose. I silently create rhymes, Within the daily news. I think of sentences, In rhythmic flowing ways. I sneak out to workshops, And open mic nights I enter writing comps under pen names, 2

In the dead of the night. I read works of famous poets, In darkness, by torch light. I fill notebooks, With my imagination, Realising words, Which release my plight. So I have a deep dark secret, Which nobody but me knows. Poetry is my taboo, And occasionally writing prose. © Katie Haigh, Darnhill Story Group

Finally, we had a couple of trips and events to see professional writers and have a go at performing ourselves. In October the Members Lunch Club attended workshops in critiquing and Celtic mythology at Ilkley Literature Festival and participants from Story Groups saw ‘Poetry from the North’ at Manchester Literature Festival. In November some also got the chance to perform poetry over jazz at the launch of the Maskew Collection at Rochdale Central Library. Check out pages 4-8 for more information on two of our projects which finished in the Autumn. Podcasts, photos and writing from all of the projects and events so far are also available on our website 3

www.tellusanotherone.org

GAMES GONE BY Do you ever wish you had more time to simply play? Do children get the same chance to let their hair down and play as much nowadays with the pressure schools are under to achieve higher and higher grades each year? Do children still play in groups or are they becoming more isolated in their play? These are all questions we asked in our recent intergenerational project Games Gone By. With the support of the Cooperative College and Age UK we asked Over50s groups in Bury and Oldham about their impression. Children from St John with St Mark Primary school in Bury and St Martin’s Primary School in Oldham then wrote stories and poems about how they play and asked their parents and members of the community for stories about the toys they played with when they were children. Here’s a sample of some of the wonderful pieces created:

Hobbies Cricket, football, ballet too, they’re my hobbies What about you? I like bikes And going for a ride I like basketball Seven a side I like karate I am the karate kid I’ve got a new PS3 It cost £300 quid Sometimes when I’m bored I like to bounce a ball I bounce it on the floor I bounce it on the wall I like ruthless rugby I like to score a try I like science fiction Spaceships in the sky These are some hobbies That I like to do We have lots of fun What about you? © Yr 4 Group Poem with Craig Bradley, St John with St Mark Primary school, Bury

These are the games we play These are the games we play: Football, Firefighters and Frustration. Cops and Robbers, Chasing, Chess. Hide and Seek, and Hungry Hungry Crocodiles. Playing after school, and at night. These are the games we play: Snakes and Ladders, Spin the Bottle, Skipping. Base Defence, Buckaroo, Basketball. Monopoly, Monkeys, Mercy. One day I’ll teach you how to play them with me. These are the games we play: Leapfrog in the grass. I-Spy in the car. Itch and Scratchy in the hall. Deadly Dodgeball in the gym. Ralio down by the shops. Army Soldier in the field. These are the games we play. © Yr5 Group Poem with John Siddique, St Martin’s Primary School, Oldham

If you would like to purchase a copy of Games Gone By, please send a cheque for £4.95 to Cartwheel Arts with your address.

BORDERLINES Did you cross the borderline in October? Borderlines was a digital art project organised by Tell Us Another One, that culminated in a Big Day of mass participation on October 1st. For those who missed it, here’s the story about what went on! THE BACKGROUND “Digital art” takes many forms, but one of the most interesting at the moment is the use of crowdsourcing - using online platforms to collect contributions from lots of members of the public, and presenting them all together as an art piece. So instead of a painting made and The Chadderton team on the Big Day signed by just one “Great Artist”, we can make art where lots of people contribute to create something bigger than just themselves; and it’s the existence of all those different viewpoints all interacting with each other, that makes the piece what it is. So how do you create a piece of art like this? Well, if you have a theme or idea you want to invite the public to explore, you’ve got to explore it a bit yourself first - and then, you need to set up a way for the public to contribute, and create some sort of event to encourage them to do so. In our case, the theme was the invisible “borders” that we cross as we go about our daily lives - both the everyday transitions from daylight to darkness or weekday to weekend, and the once-in-a-lifetime thresholds such as marriage, childbirth, or getting older. How do people feel about crossing these Rubicons? Are we aware that we’re crossing, and does it change us? What do we carry with us from one state to another? Is it a hard journey, or do we all slip back and forth from one “territory” to another with relative ease? We set ourselves to find out. Our team of artists (David Bateman, Lucy Frost, Emily Pitts, Phil Reed, Jamie Akhtar, Cath Ford and me, Vik from Cartwheel) invited three groups of participants to join us in making the piece. They were a group of young people from the Matthew Moss Centre near Rochdale; a group of young people from the New Kershaw Centre, Bury; and a group of adults from Chadderton Court, a centre in Oldham for people with mental health problems. Each group explored the many nuances of the idea of “borders”, using drama games, creative writing. and making. Once we felt we’d got to grips with what a border can be, and how it can affect us and society, we set about designing the “Big Day” (the event on 1st October when we collected the public’s thoughts

about crossing a particular border). Each group devised a border-related question to ask the public; and each group built a beautiful decorated archway for people to walk through as they answered, as a way to symbolise the idea of crossing from one state to another. THE QUESTIONS Rochdale asked: “You are now crossing the border into sleep. Tell us about one of your dreams.” Bury asked: “For you, what has changed life the most, and why?” Oldham asked: “What would you like the light at the end of the tunnel to be?” THE TECHNOLOGY But how would we collect the public’s answers, and how would we pull them all together online to make the final digital art piece? Txt messaging was a good start - people are familiar with it, and with a bit of technical wizardry it’s possible to send txt messages direct to a website. But we also discovered that lots of people were curious about Twitter, and wanted to have a try at using it, so we decided to make it possible to Tweet an answer as well. Jamie, one of the team, created an Internet platform for us that allowed both txts and Tweets to appear instantly on our website; quite a clever piece of tech! Using txts and Tweets provides the interesting restriction that you have to keep your answer down to 160 characters. Restrictions in creative writing are often interesting - if you set yourself a “rule” that restricts what you can write, it can stimulate your creativity as your mind tries to find ways round the restriction. In the case of Borderlines, people were giving us short answers, but often with a whole story contained within them. THE RESULTS A grand total of 437 people took part. We received 297 txt msgs and 140 Tweets, many of them from people who had never used Twitter before! The final art piece, bringing all the answers together, is at www.tellusanotherone.org/live - it’s a little document of real people’s thoughts and stories on one day in 2011. You can search by time, location, or keyword - have a look under “advanced options” and have a go at searching, and you might find some unexpected connections! For instance, who had something to say about “love”? Who was responding at 1.31pm? And is it “art”? We think so. Each txt and Tweet we received is, in effect, a tiny piece of creative writing; and when you put them all together you get something touching, intriguing, funny, sad, and truthful all at once - what more could you ask from a piece of art?

THE SPIN-OFF Once the Big Day was over, participants got together and created some poems from the answers the public had sent in. We used a technique called “cut-up” taking already-written source material, and chopping it up and rearranging it into a different order to reveal new meanings. You can read some of our poems on the project’s Facebook group (follow the link from www.tellusanotherone/live). Here’s one of our favourites, from the plenary session where we made cut-ups using the answers the public gave us:

A World In Sleep 1. Paul Wesley, Alexander Skarsgard, Stephen Moyer and Ian Somerhalder... Four vampires at once? “I want the guy in the white top, trainers and socks.” At great speed, on a sledge, they were chasing me with wolves, down a road with two of my family, plus a shadowy figure looking for my mother. MY PARENTS TURNED INTO ZOMBIES! LOL Oh wait -I am a zombie. 2. I dreamt of having two wives, A sheep’s tail, A metal disc with the secret of the universe in it and lots of money but it kept on flying away... Trust me - you don’t wanna know. by Charlotte, Bryony, Cee-Jai, Phil, Billy

GET INVOLVED So we can’t help wondering - what could Scribble readers create from the Borderlines material? We’ll soon be launching a new writing competition to find out. You could have a try at writing a cut-up of your own; or you could take just one of the messages from the public and try writing a short story or a monologue inspired by it, aiming to reveal the story behind the message. In fact, your entry can take any form - but it must have as its starting point the material on www.tellusanotherone.org/live. So we’re not looking for your stories and poems about borders in general - we’re asking for work specifically inspired by the Borderlines digital artwork. Visit www.tellusanotherone.org/live for details of how to enter. The winner will be announced in next issue of Scribble, and will win a £20 voucher and a ‘GO away, I’m writing’ mug.

FOCUS ON.. geoff hattersley On our recent Tell Us Another One trip to Manchester Literature Festival we came across the fantastic poet Geoff Hattersley. Here is an offering from his latest collection Harmonica.

He Dreamed He Burst Balloons He dreamed he burst balloons for a living and was his own supervisor. He worked twelve hours a week, made a good wage. He was never exhausted, never bored. He was calm like a cat full of tuna, calm like a yacht in a sunlit harbour. His past life had been forgotten like a dull episode of a cop show. There were no scars on his body. © Geoff Hattersley

“There’s everything here. The poem as microcosm of the world gone mad…delivered with vim and vigour and original imagery not cribbed from some third-rate classical allusion but fashioned anew from the bric-a-brac of the life led and depicted.” Daithidh MacEochaidh

“Over the years Hattersley has carved out an uncompromising position for himself in the margins of British poetry…his poetry feeds off territory that is a long way outside the familiar comfort zones.” Matthew Clegg For your chance to win a signed copy of Harmonica enter our writer’s competition on page 46. Alternatively you can buy it from wreckingballpress.com for £7.99.

welcome to: steve garside Steve has been monumental in drawing a crowd to our newest Story Group - Dumer’s Lane in Bury. A local writer who knows a thing or two about putting pen to paper, Steve has inspired many a Tell Us Another One participant with his words of wisdom at Scribble events and workshops previously. Here’s a little more insight into what makes him tick:

- Where are you from? I was born and live in Rochdale. As i get older, I become more sentimental about my hometown - its cotton mills, canal and the terraced streets where I grew up. - What got you into writing? I spent much of my youth gawping out of classroom windows, listening to music or sifting through the stuff of second hand shops. It wasn’t until I was well into adulthood that I developed an interest in reading and writing. I had always wanted to write, though never had the confidence to do so; it was other writers then that got me into writing. - What’s your favourite game as a grown up? Football and cricket when I get the time and chance to watch. As a kid, I used to play loads of games - hide ‘n’ seek, reallio, bottle tig, knock-a-door run and football. Today I am not sure these games are played so much. Computers and social policy have seen to that. - What tips would you give would-be writers? Picasso once remarked that we are all born artists, and the trick was to remain so as an adult. So if I was to give a tip it would be to give yourself the permission to write - life has its ways of denying creative ability an outlet, so have faith in what you do and stick at it. - Any no-nos? Don’t not read, don’t not write, don’t stop observing the world with the eyes of a child. - Who inspires you? Curtis, Morrissey, Sillitoe, John Cage, Radiohead and Rothko. 10

Here is a special concoction Steve prepared for Scribble all about play:

Catch You drew a snake upon my back among the wooden garages, hid in the fifty second chance your fingertips gave you to run. Through creosote ginnels I looked for you, struggled up onto the asphalt roof where we first kissed; eyes closed, slow counting the sun, vandal prints on our hand-me-down clothes, time and her games forgotten catch the bottom lip of my throat, skips over ropes; kicks the cobbled can, pills the dobber and makes me who I am. © Steve Garside

Steve’s collection is available for £5 on Amazon. www.stevegarside.co.uk

A book in my childhood I loved had a pink cover and lots of teddy bears on it. The story was about the bears getting excited and ready for a school fair. It showed you the teddy bears’ families putting their thinking caps on to come up with something nice and easy to contribute to the fair. Not only this it had pages at the back on how to make the craft at home like a novelty plant, ginger bread bears, soft furry toy. I never tried the activites at home and ironically I have a phobia of some of the crafts but none the less the book and memory of it are favourable and it captured the fun and essence of community spirit. The book was called The Bears’ Bazaar by Michelle Cartlidge and I purchased it from my school book club. I also enjoyed our school fairs, my favourite toy I bought there cost me 20p, It was a lion puzzle and mainly you had to move the tiles around to make it complete. I loved completing it and messing it up over and over again it was tops! © Julia McClay, Langley Story Group

over to you... PLAY Shida Tali When we were young there was a TV drama called ‘Gold and Silver’ that was famous. When the elders went out for an event we all became the characters in the drama and we did the dialogue. One character was called Rashid. We renamed him Shida Tali - school bell. In my street there was a man called Rashid. We called him Shida Tali (not to his face) and we called all the family members and friends names from the characters in the drama who they looked like.

Crowd cheer the game Crowd cheer, roar, applause Five points try given conversion missed Crowd hiss, boo! put in the boot Foul penalty given Other side opposition hesitation Expectation Fast bowl, lightning speed Leg before wicket, out! One hundred and ten for five Cricket crowd come alive Enjoying sunshine Lords, famous words Winter games, down hill Speed thrill bobsleigh and slalom Snowboard perfection Half pipe off piste Athletics, cycle track Shot put, high jump marathon Man able bodied Paralympic achievement Wheels spin fire from exhaust Speedway applause dirt bike Formula 1 rally car Television star Competition local and afar Bookmaker monetary endeavour Odds on bets off Countries population involved Old and young These games are fun, for everyone! © James Whitrow, Langley Story Group

The games I used to play when I was really young were mostly hopscotch, hide and seek and cycling. I think these were my favourite games. I was the eldest girl in my family, then my younger sister, my younger brother and my baby sister. After school we used to walk through a park, play on the swings and the slide then play hide and seek and hopscotch. We used to get so involved in playing these games we forgot the time and mum would be waiting for us, worried and angry when we got home.

I can remember playing dolls with my cousins. We have such good memories of it even now we talk about it. We used to make dolls’ dresses. I can remember making dolls with cotton material, coloured red and then make their hair with black thread, then get them married, cook, have dinner, have parties. We used to have clay pots and cooked rice and made little chapattis. On wedding days we used to make a box for the bride with a dolly in it. © Tasneem Hussain, Spotland Story Group

over to you... PLAY Lighting Up

I like play. All the time I play. I go to school and as my friends arrive we all play a game. One afternoon all my friends played a game called rolling. Everyone takes a turn rolling then it is my turn. I am rolling and rolling. I am not looking at anything. I roll too near the boundary fence and cut my hand. I bleed and I cry. All the time I am looking at my hand. I don’t feel good. I go home, my mother bandages my hand. Two days after I am good. © Jannatun Nahar Choudhury, Coldhurst Story Group

My son Adil loves to play With his rubber ball. He throws it to me. Adil loves his blue-green ball. He holds it with two hands. When he throws it to me, His black eyes follow the ball And light up with joy. My son Adil laughs aloud And I laugh with him. © Jannatun Nahar Choudhury, Coldhurst Story Group, produced at a workshop with Debjani Chatterjee

over to you... PLAY That toy of my childhood Sleeping with a doll Climbing up a mango tree And picking raw mangoes Riding a bike And twisting your feet And getting shouted at by uncle and brother But mother’s love Gaining every game Even hockey or cricket And thinking the best in all of them These are the games of my childhood. © Farzana Arif, Spotland Story Group

Play Play can be many things Play with toys, boys with cars, girls with dolls It doesn’t work that way When you grow up Boys and men love babies And some women love open top cars. We play with friends, climb trees or walk to the park for swings and roundabouts or fishing. But best of all as we grown up Is the music we learn to play Piano, flute, brass or guitar Some have voices that are very well tuned. I’m sure they enjoy it so much that they all join a choir. That is their play. © Joan Birch, Seedfield Story Group

Winner! The control was mine! I looked my opponent in the eye. I pulled back the lever and let him have it. It was a bad move. He had the advantage. He made his move, a good move, one ahead. I moved around the combat area and made my stand and shot. Advantage to me, two ahead. His next shot hit the mark. Even. I must make all my shots count, he was good! I lined up my shot and let it go. STRIKE. 3-2 to me. ‘Don’t get too confident’ I thought. It could all change in a heartbeat. He pawed the ground, lined up his shot then hit the target. 3-3. Keeping calm was the secret, keep the nerves steady. I made my move and missed. Screams from the crowd. His lip curled in triumph and he made his move. Roars from the crowd. 4-3 to him. ‘I’m doomed.’ My spirits sank; ‘I need a miracle,’ I thought. I eyed the scene and sighed, I can’t be beaten again so I made my shot. A miracle. Two strikes. 5-4 to me.

The crowd went wild. He started to sweat. The crowd went deadly silent waiting for him to strike. He looked at me through half closed eyes, he shot and missed. The noise was deafening. My spirits rose, another two and it’s over. I weighed up the game, my head in a spin. I made my move, 6-4 to me. I started to shake. OH MY GOD. The crowd were screaming , then silence. He looked desperate, he carefully surveyed the game from all angles. The minutes passed, then he made his move 6-5 to him. It’s in the bag I thought excitedly. I shot and missed. The drone from the crowd said failure you are lost. He smiled and made his move. 6-6. Even. My heart was thumping. I thought I was going to faint. There was a hush you could feel. I pulled back the lever and hit. 7-6. The game was mine. At last I had beaten the Gryffindor Champion at Gobstones!!! © Frances Arden, Seedfield Story Group

Play out with me Take me out, to that place where we escape And play until late We find fate, find out what life is all about Be part of my belief We shall dip into the sea and hope Congratulate our friendship, realise others hardship What we encourage we proceed to acknowledge Underneath the heavens its a game to endeavour Listen to the universe giving us Time to pass by in all its splendour Take me out, take me home Towards loving you I am prone What lies beneath our feelings is discovered But intricacies and solidarity Are friendship built from what started As childhood games played by grown ups Apologetic world of doves, sea creatures make well Islands eye be still blind, sandy shores give emotion peace The piper he plays to wash away the greys Out of emotion and stop commotion An explosion of heart felt trust Believes us and an apology is not needed, proceed To take me out where we find out What love is all about, in the night we realise The opposites of our eyes Blue skies alone To love each other we are prone! © James Whitrow, Langley Story Group

over to you... PLAY Poor Ted There he sits, poor Ted Doleful and dusty A time-honoured friend And keeper of my secrets And dreams Alone on the shelf How could I? He’s old now Nearly bald and one-eyed Joints intact, almost But losing his stuffing After years of cuddles And no voice to speak of Still he listens. He watches over me Through his glazed eye Can he really see me or is he oblivious Waiting to return To his place Beside my pillow.

Beach huts The beach huts are all lined up in a row. Painted red, green, blue, white and yellow Who will stay in them they do not know. The sky is blue and the sea is calm Summer has arrived and the air is warm.

over to you... PLAY

Along come the children with buckets and spades Mums and Dads wearing shades. They open the door of their hut and look inside They can’t wait to play at the seaside. On go the swimsuits, sun hats and cream Off for a paddle, the water is cold and they let out a scream. Laughing and splashing and getting quite wet Mum is it ice cream time yet? Wrapped up in towels all nice and snug eating cornets Dad have we brought the fishing nets? Building sandcastles and fishing in rock pools This is a lot better than being in school. © Clare Schofield, Seedfield Story Group Accompanying picture © James Whitrow, Langley Story Group

A touch of nostalgia When we were little we would all gather Our favourite toys - a fireman and ladder An aircraft carrier and RAF plane A wooden top and whip, with marbles in the rain We’d make our own toys, from shoeboxes and planks Houses and go-carts - whatever we could chance The best toys we ever saw were wooden bricks and Meccano A walking, talking, singing doll, Tin Can Alley and Lego We’d peer at a special train set in the toy shop With a slot outside where your coin would drop Our favourite games with friends we’d play Snakes and ladders, hopscotch, darts on a rainy day In the house and on the street Through army games we’d make believe “Gather the troops, prepare to battle Bring your sticks, perfect your Sten Gun rattle!” As the years have passed we still enjoy a cheer But we sit with a beer in a calmer sphere Dominoes at the tap room, pool and cards Now it’s the grandkids that run playing in the yards

When I was Red rover red rover, we call someone over When I was a child, I used to watch the stars and point out the different constellations When I was a child, as our house grew bigger the family grew smaller as my sisters and brothers got married Red rover red rover, they call someone over When I was a child, I balanced coins on the back of my hand, I would throw and catch them with skill I can still do it now When I was a child, I didn’t like to play I was lazy and tired I said to my mum, “I don’t like to go to school”

When I was a child, I used to play football and try to recreate the goals I saw on TV Red rover red rover we call someone over When I was a child, the big houses were full Now everyone comes to England The big houses stand empty No lights, everything’s locked Red rover red rover, they call someone over When I was a child © Falinge Story Group

over to you... PLAY

Red rover red rover, they call someone over When I was a child, our house was busy my sister, brother, everybody was living all together When I was a child, Mars bars cost 10p Curly Wurlys seemed huge but it’s just that I was smaller then When I was a child, I liked to recognise all the countries’ flags of the world. Red rover red rover, we call someone over When I was a child, I used to cry, dance and giggle I don’t do that now When I was a child I knew I’d be alive in the year 2000 I imagined flying cars and space dust Red rover red rover, they call someone over 22

I was five years old when my grandmum visited Pakistan. She gave me a doll. I always slept with the doll and loved it so much. I showed everybody who came into my house. Everybody called me ‘silly girl’. The doll was wearing a red and brown frock with white shoes. She had curly blonde hair and red cheeks. When she was stood up her eyes were open, when laid down her eyes closed. After twelve years grandmum went to Pakistan. She had lots of love for me. We both talked together. In 1997 she died and was buried in Manchester. I always pray for her. © Rukhshanda Aslam, Spotland Story Group

I like Kana Machi (blind play). Every Friday evening time we are playing lots of games. Kana Machi is my favourite game. Ten to twelve people play in a group and one is Kana Machi. They are blind - some cloth like a scarf is put on their eyes. Kana Machi stays in the middle and everyone goes round and round them. Kana Machi tries to hold one person. If they hold them they become Kana Machi. I keep myself safe all the time from the Kana Machi. If I am Kana Machi I am interested all the time to hold somebody. If I hold somebody I am so happy! © Amina Begum, Coldhurst Story Group

over to you... PLAY Chupau Chupi It is scary and dark Under the bed No noise Under the quilt Sweat’s leaking Behind the door spider crawl Chupau Chupi I was there but they can’t see me I scream loudly Through the game we run up and down End of the game We’re all tired, sweating, hot and thirsty Everybody sit down and relax Childhood, childhood Chupau chupi Hide and seek 24

I remember when we were little, my sister Shushoma, brother Lablu and older brother Paplu used to love the rain. The Coldhurst Community Centre car park used to fill up with water; it was like a big paddling pool. Me, my brothers and my sister used to pack a plastic bag each with a towel, crisps and a drink and make our way to the car park. We would take off our shoes and socks and put our feet in the cold rainy water. It was cold at first but in a few seconds we were paddling away; stomping, splashing,

jumping. We laughed away as we played. Eventually it was dinnertime. We would sit ourselves on the wall, open up our packets of crisps and pop open our drinks. If it rained our crisps got soggy and our drinks refilled themselves. We would go back into the water and play until our feet went numb. We would dry our feet with the towels we brought along with us, put our shoes and socks back on and make our way back home. © Shima Das, Coldhurst Story Group

Adventures of Play

over to you... PLAY

It’s been a long time I still miss my home Lemon trees and orange trees And vegetables I don’t even know the names of I’m here a long time My grandma made pickle at home mango, chilli, lemon. And there was mango lassi When I was a child It was too hot to play outside. My mum bought new clothes, new shoes for me I was very happy I was 18 when I came here Long time ago you know. © Mussarat Khanum, Falinge Story Group

Playing with my “my little ponies”, Feeling a little bored. I decided to go to the airing cupboard, My special place within my home. It’s a magical place. When opening the door, I climbed a rocky treacherous mountain. Fluffy puffs of clouds cushioned me, Comfy within my secret tree trunk. Fairies fluttered in to visit, Shimmering with fairy dust. They’d grant my wishes, Give me giant wings. So I could fly to our mystical land, Through a door inside my tree. Rivers are made of chocolate swirls, With foaming marshmallow tides. Grass stripes of green licorice. Hills bouncy sponge, On which I’d jump for hours, My laughter turning to song. Notes would pop into the sky, Getting stuck on toffee apple trees. The leaves would crunch like crisps, Salt and vinegar treats. Then the land shook, A voice filling circles above. My ears grew bigger, Nearly making me topple over. I listened for the voice I heard, “Time for Tea” Mum’s calling, And so I said “ goodbye”. “I’ll be back tomorrow” I cried For an adventure, In the airing cupboard, Where my imagination flies. © Katie Haigh, Darnhill Story Group

Games Games that cost nowt We could play indoors or out Running around Dropping to the ground Hopscotch, guessing games All with no particular aim Making dens Putting vinegar in our felt tip pens Time passes with our joyful games of play And we can all just be children if only for that day Time for a game of marbles on the grid “I’m gonna win your dobber” says next door’s kid Is it any wonder we wished the day would never end? Non-competitive were the best - never left anyone out And we could all scream and shout Our gang could all jump and hop We could even do the bop We could all catch a ball It didn’t matter if you were short or tall Not one of us was the boss And we were never at a loss Not one of us was a scaredy cat or a mouse (Although some of us did have head-louse!) But I have to confess I was the comic Making the gang laugh something chronic Is it any wonder we wished the day would never end? We were individual, unique in our own way No wonder that part of childhood we all wanted to stay It was great to feel safe, running on our lanes The other Estate kids played different games They had roller skates, scooters and chopper bikes And had football boots with spikes Collecting bonny wood, making our own go-carts Things pulled together from different parts The streetlights came on and we’d have to leave our play behind Wishing our day would just rewind Back to our homes, no time to pause Back behind closed doors Is it any wonder we did want the day to end?! 28

This next poem has been translated from Urdu. The word order is so beautiful and so different we have printed it as a direct translation first so you can enjoy it both ways.

Time on should come Time on eat should Time on sleep should Time on play should Time not then anything is not Time today is then tomorrow not Time on which work is only that good seems You should come on time You should eat on time You should sleep on time You should play on time If there is no time there is nothing There is time today but not tomorrow Only work which is done on time is good © Parveen Akhter, Spotland Story Group

Thank you to Shamshad Khan for all the beautiful translations of work written in Urdu.

over to you... PLAY I used to play at my dad’s house. We are seven sisters. My dad used to work at night so my mum said “go and play outside”. We used to play in the ground, make a circle and one girl would take the scarf and walk around. If she walks past you and you don’t know that scarf is behind you then she picks it up and hits you with it. Mum used to say “you making noise, dad will wake up!” Then we used to play but not make noise. © Yasmin Akhtar, Deeplish Story Group

My Childhood When I was a child I lived in Pakistan in Sahiwal - the place where I remember everything. In the summer holidays we used to invite our friends every day. We liked to play with dolls and make dolls’ weddings. Baraatt is one party and this is the bride and grooms’ party. We used to sing Mehndi songs and we tried to sing and beat each other for good songs - hit songs better than the other party’s. Sometimes the weddings used to end with arguments and fall outs. The next day it would start all over again. Kokala Chapaki, Keklu, Yasoo Panjo, Guli Danda Hide and seek, going round and round Big stick, little stick, pick one up, hit the other hard Two people going round and round holding hands, faster and faster Two people, hands with palms together, catch each other, who is the fastest? We sit in a circle. The girl with the scarf goes behind us. Gojar Khan, Saddar, Pindi, Lahore, Faisalabad So many places, so many years back in Pakistan With sisters, brothers, with girlfriends and neighbours In the rain was the best, we really loved it getting wet We’d be in trouble for getting soaked with our folks Mum, dad, aunties and grandparents cooking on verandas Halva, pakoras, poray, keema marralay, tandoori roti With lassi, fanta, coke - it was all delicious....oh and Mangoes in a bucket with ice - endless supplies. © Deeplish Story Group

over to you... PLAY When I was seven or eight years old I played with my friends with stones I like this game This game it starts with four small stones and a ball You throw up the ball and you have to pick up a stone 30

Games I would play When I was young (so much younger than today) I loved to play with balls and bounce them against the wall. Two balls, one in each hand, playing night and day. I loved to play them and not drop a ball unless it was time to drop one in a song. Sometimes I would throw them under my leg, one at a time in the song. Then sometimes I would throw them up in the air. I also played draughts with my dad. I loved to play. We would choose our colours between black and white and place the pieces on the chequered board on the kitchen table. My dad would beat me many a time. I still have them all. I also loved skipping. I liked to play with others and by myself. How the hours would pass away! Bubbles and bubbles I would make in the bath tub, I would play making as many bubbles as I could. I loved to play blow football. Me and my sister had a tube like a straw and a ping pong ball. She would be at one side of the kitchen table and me at the other, both of us with tubes in our mouths waging war with a ping pong ball to score a goal. © Karen Porter, Spotland Story Group

The Rain Game Many years ago I was a single parent on benefits with a young daughter living on a very rough housing estate. We had nothing and lived a hand-to-mouth, jumble sale, charity shop type of existence. My daughter Ruby attended infant school six bus stops down the road. She was too young to travel on her own and I could never afford bus fares so every day we would walk half an hour to school, half an hour back. On the coldest days I would keep her off school and say she was sick. One day I walked to school in the afternoon to pick her up. Suddenly the heavens opened. It poured down - torrential rainfall. Ruby looked at me plaintively and asked “can we get the bus home?” Bus?!! Bus?!!

Space Hopper Gymnastics In the mid 70s my sister and I had a bright orange space hopper with horns for handles and a big grin. We soon got fed up of bouncing about on it and invented a better game. We lay the space hopper horns down on the ground and one of us stood on the horns anchoring it firmly. The other did a handstand over it and as your body went into the ‘crab’ position the force of the air in the space hopper propelled your body into a walkover. The feeling was amazing and, looking back, so was the fact that we never got hurt. You had to have complete trust in each other which we did and still do today. © Denise W, Dumer’s Lane Story Group

over to you... PLAY We played with marbles when I was young. A marble is a very small, smart and round glass ball. Shiny and colourful. When I played I held them and felt. When I looked carefully I could see many waves and designs inside. It looked wonderful and cool. I really enjoyed playing with marbles. We had fun when we rolled and caught them. © Attiya Malik, Spotland Story Group

A bus-fare was a luxury item that had to be carefully factored into the budget the week before. Something else, like a meal or half an hour of heating had to be just as carefully factored out. But of course you cannot explain this to a six year old, especially when it’s raining cats and dogs and there is half an hour’s walk ahead. So I thought quickly and said we would play a game - ‘the Rain Game’. Instead of running out of the rain we would walk in the rain and it would be lots of fun letting ourselves get soaking wet to the skin. Arriving home would be the surprise - a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Ruby was quite excited by this. So we walked home, holding hands; singing songs; wet hair plastered to our heads; rain dripping off our noses and shoes squelching. At home it was - quick, off with the wet clothes and on with the dry pyjamas and slippers; and a towel wrapped round our heads (no hairdryers in those days!) Then we sat and had a lovely, lovely steaming mug of hot chocolate. That was twenty six years ago. A few weeks back we were chatting about old times on the estate. Ruby said when we lived there, she had no idea it was a very rough estate and was not aware of having a deprived childhood. She described her childhood as being idyllic and filled with happy memories. And the happiest memory of all was - guess what? The day we walked home in the rain and that mug of hot chocolate! Then she added thoughtfully, now I understand! © Eveline Harris, Seedfield Story Group

over to you... PLAY

Hobbies My hobbies are my play. They always have been. I was never keen on dolls. Probably because I only ever had one and I can’t remember playing with it. Also, we lived on a steep hill and I wasn’t allowed to push my brother’s pram in case it ran away, which was understandable. I would rather read or play hopscotch and whip and top. My bicycle in my teens was my pride and joy. It was a Triumph and sky blue. Off to Pickmere Lake or Southport. It was personal triumph for me. It gave me freedom. I’ve tried lots of handicrafts and there’s always more to learn. Painting is my latest. It’s not that I excel but it really doesn’t matter as I’ve enjoyed them all - each one. © Joan Birch, Seedfield Story Group

Game on (Nintendo at play) Mario says here we go! Luigi shouts Mario Donkey Kong bangs on his breast Wario’s opening a treasure chest Bowser plots breathing fire Boo wants to scare you - his desire Toad the mushroom is a fun guy Kirby inhales anything, oh my! Yoshi the dinosaur likes to jump or hover Princess Peach keeps getting kidnapped - oh bother! All fight together in super smash bros These are only a few of the Nintendo characters everyone knows © Julia McClay, Langley Story Group

over to you... PLAY

scribble spotlight ON..Dominic Berry Here is a poet well and truly keeping a strong place on the North West poetry scene. We got in touch to see what his latest imaginations were cooking up:

-How did you get into writing?

Skipping You don’t see children skipping The way we used to play Mum’s washing line across the street But not on laundry day. One potato two potato Three potato four Five potato six potato Seven potato, more. This game we decided who was ‘on’ And had to turn the rope One each end and off we’d go Not being ‘out’ we’d hope. Two in together, two out together You had to take the end No matter who it was Your sister or your friend. There were lots of different games We’d play in the streets all day But you don’t see children skipping The way we used to play. © Ann Robinson, Langley Story Group

I got into writing at school. I was very lucky that my English teacher was amazing and inspired me to explore literature in a fun, not-too-analytical way. He encouraged me to enjoy words. It seems many people didn’t get that experience of poetry at school which is very sad to hear. A lot of people tell me they were made to dissect stanzas to death so any potential enjoyment was destroyed. I was lucky in that regard. Don’t get me wrong, 90% of my school days were a living hell, being a young, gay poet in the very traditional, very religious Welsh valleys. But English lessons were great.

-Who inspires you? First and foremost Gerry Potter. When he created his Chloe Poems character it hit me as powerfully as anything from Bowie or Rocky Horror - my two other big queer influences. Up until then my favourite poet had been Leonard Cohen. I still adore his work and his delivery but Gerry goes totally the other extreme - the flipside of the same coin. Cohen believes if you write about a butterfly you shouldn’t try to be the butterfly. Gerry is the butterfly, the hurricane and everything tornadoing in-between. His new, post-Chloe work is so theatrical, so deep, so heart-poundingly passionate, it is just amazing to behold.

-Tell us about your latest projects Arts Council England have funded a tour of my poetry show, ‘Wizard’. I had a grant last year to research and develop some poems about agoraphobia and gradually, through Manchester’s Contact’s support of me, they became a play. I take the role of ‘Wizard’, a man who sees amazing magic in places most people don’t. A dragon-ninja-drag-queen scales his shower, a menopausal midwife haunts his kettle. When he shares this world with a friendly neighbour, three days of events change both their lives forever. ‘Wizard’ will be touring all over the country and is starting with a run at Contact from Wednesday 28th March. 37

-What do you enjoy most about writing and performing? I enjoy writing what I really care about - people, dancing, eating, my vegan lifestyle, being queer - all the things that bring me passion. There are so many different ways to perform any one set of words. It is sad to see amazing writers read who don’t put any attention to how they speak their work. If you’re going to stand up and say what you’ve written you just have to put a little thought into how you say it... or it won’t sound very good. However excellent your words are, they will get lost. I love performing to an audience, be it a quiet gig in an intimate space or a massive, loud, outdoor festival, it’s all a buzz.

-This issue of Scribble is all about play. What is your favourite party game? Video games! Yup, a vegan wizard who likes killing dragons. The scandal! I am far too inferior in my real life martial arts skills so fighting games let me live out dreams of being a ninja! There’s a Japanese one called Guilty Gear which is especially good for having ‘out’ queer characters who are tough, inspired and just really cool - I’d recommend it to any Street Fighter or Mortal Kombat fans!

-What top 3 tips would you give to anyone wanting to have a go at writing professionally? Writing professionally is a specific thing - not all my writing is for my job, a lot is just for my own pleasure. I wouldn’t perform that stuff. My first tip is to learn the difference between the two. Just because I care deeply about a poem describing my broken heart does not automatically mean anyone else will. Writing that is very personal to you doesn’t automatically translate into something someone will pay for. So don’t be offended if someone doesn’t want to pay for your favourite poem. Second tip is to ask potential funders / venues / slam organisers / publishers what they want and then find a way to link that to what you’d like to write about. Sending a free verse love poem to an anthology asking for villanelles on loss is no good. Lastly, strive to be better. Never think you know it all and always take opportunities to study under folk you respect. Find out if your favourite poet does workshops and then go to them. And listen. None of us know everything and stopping learning, at any age, is always a shame.

-When can we see you next? In ‘Wizard’, at Contact in March - www.contactmcr.com. Also at various events promoting my new book with Flapjack Press, also called ‘Wizard’. It contains many of my latest poems and the full ‘Wizard’ script. Flapjack is a great publisher, I am proud to be in the same house as Rosie Garland, Jackie Hagan and Ben Mellor, not to mention of course Mr Gerry Potter. I’ll also be entering a load of slams this year. I have had very varied views on slams over the years but love them or hate them they are a way of getting out there and being seen. And hearing what folk really think of you! If you’re strong enough to take it, that’s never a bad thing! Check out Dominic’s exquisite piece on the next page...

Do Ken and Ryu Cuddle After Fights?

(for all who play ‘Street Fighter II’)

Do Ken and Ryu cuddle after fights? They must need comfort after all they face. Believing this might get me through my nights. Such pumped testosterone surely invites the kind of hug some men think a disgrace. Do Ken and Ryu cuddle after fights? Do lovely snuggles make them high as kites? It’s not just brawls, it’s nuzzles these two chase! Believing this might get me through my nights. Can love and anger, both felt at their heights, give something more than guilt as heartbeats race? Do Ken and Ryu cuddle after fights? In my mind’s eye I see such tender sights. Does Ryu spurt, “HA...DOU...KEN!” mid-embrace? Believing this might get me through my nights. When I’m alone, my playstation invites me to a violent, thrilling, frightful place. Do Ken and Ryu cuddle after fights? Believing this might get me through my nights. © Dominic Berry 39 39

online poll

Would you like the chance to win a £25 book token?

If you live in Oldham check out this delightful package of writing workshops from Oldham Library and Lifelong Learning Centre:

LOVE & LAUGHTER Loving your weekend… 11 February -The Art of Love 1-3pm. Oldham Library & Lifelong Learning Centre

If so simply enter our prize draw by telling us your preferred format for Scribble magazine this one or the A4 size of previous issues?

This is your chance to explore your creative side in two ways. Firstly, you’ll compose a piece of love prose and then you’ll have fun creating a piece of art to display your writing. Don’t miss the chance to work with local artists to create a piece of work you’ll be proud of. 12 February - John Siddique 1-3pm. Oldham Library & Lifelong Learning Centre

Go to Scribble poll at Tell Us Another One.org tweet BIG or SMALL to Cartwheel Arts # Scribble size or text BIG or SMALL to 07407 693271

er from Here’s another cork Robinson the wonderful Ann oup: of Langley Story Gr

funny things kids say... and Amy My grandchildren Zak with their were playing happily , lego figures. Zak said ke Lego lady “Legoman, will you ta ed wife?” to be your awful wedd

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Workshop 1-2:30pm . Poetry Reading 2:30-3:00pm The master of real love poetry John Siddique will be facilitating a poetry workshop, followed by readings from his emotionally charged compilation Full Blood. John is well known for his captivating readings and his infectious love of literature. He has worked with The British Council, PEN, and London 2012. Full Blood is described as ‘Bold as love... Each word is to be savoured like a sip of forbidden wine’ and we invite you to savour his work over the Valentine’s weekend. Free workshop and reading. To book please call 0161 770 8010/8016

Love Writing… Love to Write - 5, 12, 19 and 26 March, Lees Library 5:30-7pm Creative writing can be a great outlet for expression and a satisfying hobby but getting started can be intimidating. These workshops aimed at beginners will cover the basics to inspire a love of writing and help you to get your thoughts, feeling and ideas down on paper. Getting back to basics may also prove useful for more experienced writers. A Write Laugh - 6,13 and 20 February, Failsworth Library 5:30-7pm What makes a great comic author? Come and have a go at injecting some humour into your writing and find guidance on word play and how to add visual humour to your work. The sessions will help you to break through your writers block and have fun sharing your work in an informal setting with like minded people. To book on the workshops please contact Suzanne Hudson on 0161 770 8010 or Punam Ramchurn on 0161 770 8016.

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COMPETITION corneR Readers’ Competition Congratulations to Shaun McGrath for this eloquent recollection of a children’s classic. A signed copy of Rachel Connor’s book Sisterwives is in the post and heading your way!

It was a bitterly cold Christmas morning (1979 if I recollect), when the gaudy wrapping from my last present - sitting forlornly on the arm of the living room chair - was torn from the pristine body within. Rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from my eyes, a series of jumbled letters coalesced into five distinct words; five scrumptious, lip-smacking words that excited the senses “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”. Who can forget that childhood longing for adventure and excitement, the burgeoning imagination soaring above the humdrum concerns of the adult world? The voices of our parents, chastising and comforting - receding in their influence - supplanted by a more commanding, enticing and… oh so delicious fare. On that chilly winter’s morning, surrounded by a dozen or so gifts, a fifty pence book would change my life forever, open up a literary vista, that in the years and decades to come, would become ever richer and wider. Over the course of the next three nights, my dreams took on a singular peculiarity, being filled with the most wondrous sights and intoxicating aromas - rivers of hot melted chocolate, square sweets that look round, everlasting gobstoppers and fizzy lifting drinks. As the last chapter drew to a close, with our eponymous hero triumphant, a strange mixture of sadness and joy overwhelmed me - sadness at the conclusion of a much loved book, and joy in the knowledge of a journey only just begun. 42 42

Writers’ Competition We had so many good and varied pieces for this quarter’s competition we had to allocate a 2nd and 3rd prize! Sit back and enjoy these very different takes on play and you’ll soon see what we mean.

Rain Stopped Play It’s raining, and I can’t play out. There’s not much to do but watch the raindrop runs, coursing down the window panes, one stream joining another, guessing which drop will get to the bottom first. I like pressing my face up to the window, but Mum says it leaves greasy marks behind.

1st

I want to put my wellies on and go out, but Mum doesn’t like me jumping in the puddles. “Big boys don’t do that” she says. So I have to stay inside, and “Play quietly.” and “Wait for God’s tears to stop falling.” I don’t know what I’ve done to make him cry. Mum says she’ll tell me after tea. Mum says “Play with your sister,” but she makes me really cross. Mum says “She’s only a baby,” and I have to “Make allowances,” (Whatever those are) My sister always wants to play with me, but I don’t want to play with her. I don’t want to push a pram around. It’s more fun watching raindrops on the window. © Steve Mellor

2nd

Games People Play In days gone by, games people played Were social activities on sunny days. Football in the great outdoors, Playing with toys, sharing your joys. Skipping, marbles, conkers were played.

3rd

Now having reached a “certain” age, Vulnerable, lonely, bored at this stage. Tempted into a virtual world as daydreams, advertising media unfold Beckoned by smiling, friendly faces; Zip wiring, rock climbing, days at the races.

Simple pleasures The open jaws of an empty fox-hole lured us in. Excavation heaven. Confined in a womb chamber we quickly enlarged the accommodation. With a piece of board to cover the entrance, we were tucked away inside our burrow where light from a flickering candle played on our dirt-streaked faces. Moved house and moved on to a summer spent in a labyrinth of excavations. We were willing prisoners in our small complete world of earth odours and beetles, of twisted roots and empty sockets where pebbles had nestled. Our leathery hands and knees were ingrained with grubbiness. We covered our passages with scrap wood and crawled through like moles. At the end of the summer holiday a cloudburst engulfed the August drought and we were glad to be free of it. Glad of the excuse to walk upright after a month of nights.

You can have fun twenty four seven. Enticed into vice, but at what price? An advertiser’s idea of heaven, Suck you into “Tombola” and online gambling, a world of hilarity in virtual reality. It’s all a dream in the cold light of day, Debt and despair is the price you will pay. You will never have your day at the races, Face it! “Foxy” holds all the aces. © Catherine Coward

Aren’t they magnificent?! Steve Mellor - a £20 voucher and a signed copy of Gemma Lees’ Method in My Madness’ are on their way to you, with a £20 voucher heading to Heather Ferrier and a £10 voucher to Catherine Coward. Enjoy!

There are more opportunities to write for Scribble overleaf.

Competition

For the Readers

What’s going On If you live in Rochdale, Oldham or Bury, why not join us for the next monthly Story Groups? Full details at www.tellusanotherone.org

Our next issue of Scribble is on the theme of Music. To win a £15 book token and a copy of The Book Thief by Markus Zusak simply answer the following question:

Love and Laughter See page 41 for some exciting

Which book inspired you with music?

upcoming events at Oldham Libraries.

Perhaps it was a trigger for you to take up an instrument, to seek out a song or an artist. Perhaps it was an autobiography of a musician you adore.

Royal Exchange, Manchester. Carol Ann Duffy and friends

The best answer will be printed in the next issue of Scribble so think back to those music-driven stories and wax lyrical about them!

Competition

http://www.royalexchangetheatre.org.uk/event.aspx?id=444 Open Mics • Write Out Loud continue with the fantastic open mic night at Ring O’Bells, St Leonard’s Sq, Middleton, 8pm every fourth Sunday. • Weaving Words is the second Monday of each month, 5.30pm at the Wheatsheaf Library, central Rochdale.

For the WRITERS

• Manky Poets, Chorlton Library, Manchester is the third Friday of each

As our next issue of Scribble is on the theme of

Touchstones, Rochdale. Just Poets run Touchstones Writing Group in

MUSIC

We want you to write about music that takes your breath away, music that relaxes you or inspires you to dance, your festival highlights, your attempts to play and write music (good or bad!). The winning entry will receive a £20 book token and a signed copy of Harmonica by Geoff Hattersley (featured on page 9). The runner up will receive a £20 book token and both will be published in the next issue of Scribble. Deadline for both: Wednesday 28th February 2012 Only pieces on the theme of music will be in with a chance of winning. Happy writing! (Please note: only one piece per entrant)

ONLINE Competition Don’t forget the Borderlines competition too. Visit www.tellusanotherone.org/live for details of how to enter. The winner will be announced in next issue of Scribble, and will win a £20 voucher and a ‘GO away, I’m writing’ mug.

month at 7.30pm Rochdale. This is free and monthly. They also run an open mic night at The Baum, Toad Lane, Rochdale at 7.30pm on the second Sunday of each month. Call 01706 670829 for more info. Dominic Berry and D’Lo will be leading a FREE poetry slam workshop on Monday 6th February, 6.30pm at the Contact, Manchester. Then on 8th Feb at 6.30pm Dominic hosts the Contact’s alternative poetry slam with D’Lo headlining. Not to be missed! Call 0161 274 0600 to book a place. Suitable for ages 16+, entry £5 or £3 concessions.

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Scribble c/o Tell Us Another One Cartwheel Arts, 110 Manchester Street, Heywood OL10 1DW T: 01706 361300 F: 01706 361400 E: emma@cartwheelarts.org.uk