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Writing workshop
Jul. 16th, 2005 12:05 pmI've been in Glastonbury for the last few days, mainly getting on with some writing. I also went over to Wales to do a writing workshop near Monmouth - this was at a Druidic event and we had to do the workshop in a yurt. It went well, with about 20 people in attendance (and a lot of horseflies...ack), and was a first for me - most of the workshops I teach tend to be very 'nuts and bolts' about the business of getting published, and this was more of a combination of ritual, meditation, tarot and writing, based around the theme of the personal story (a subject which came up at the last Borders, in fact).
Druid camps tend to be a little...freeform, let's say. T came up with me (billed as 'my lovely assistant' - I've never got over having a father who was a stage magician) and when we were sitting in the tea tent, I realised (in the way women do) that he'd stopped listening to me and was staring over my shoulder with a curious expression - the expression, in fact, of a man who has just realised that there is a naked woman on a trampoline a hundred yards away.
It was very hot - in the evening we decided something more civilised was called for and drove up to a little village called Skenfrith: this was one of the Border garrisons and there's the remains of a big Norman castle built out of red sandstone. Very quiet and peaceful, with swifts shrieking over the river. We went in the local pub - I remember getting indifferent sandwiches here once, but now it's reinvented itself as a gastro pub...T had sea trout; I had duck, and we got some excellent claret (1997 Chateau Cissac). T knows the bloke who produces this, oddly enough, and so does the owner of the Bell.
Druid camps tend to be a little...freeform, let's say. T came up with me (billed as 'my lovely assistant' - I've never got over having a father who was a stage magician) and when we were sitting in the tea tent, I realised (in the way women do) that he'd stopped listening to me and was staring over my shoulder with a curious expression - the expression, in fact, of a man who has just realised that there is a naked woman on a trampoline a hundred yards away.
It was very hot - in the evening we decided something more civilised was called for and drove up to a little village called Skenfrith: this was one of the Border garrisons and there's the remains of a big Norman castle built out of red sandstone. Very quiet and peaceful, with swifts shrieking over the river. We went in the local pub - I remember getting indifferent sandwiches here once, but now it's reinvented itself as a gastro pub...T had sea trout; I had duck, and we got some excellent claret (1997 Chateau Cissac). T knows the bloke who produces this, oddly enough, and so does the owner of the Bell.
