Memoirs - Telling It Like It Is
A writing group where elders can put their thoughts on paper, giving glimpses into their lives. Or this can be a change to delve into 'fantasy' !
Writing Group Members
Mr Roy Cameron; Mrs Veronica Philips; Mrs Rhoda Marfoud; Mr Neville Bourne; Mrs Clarita Wenham; Pastor Parris; Mrs Winifred Scott; Mrs Harriet Mendy; Mrs Odessa Stoute; Mr Ian Charles; Mr Arthur France; Mrs Ruth Door; Louise Crumbie; Moses Griffin; Georgina Webbe; Marilyn Walwyn; Yvonne Hylton; Manasseh Louise; Brontie Saddler; Elaine Davis
A Situation where I lost my Temper by Winifred Scott
A Situation where I lost my Temper
A few years ago, I went shopping in a supermarket. When my turn to pay for my items came, I handed my card over to the checkout assistant. She took one look at the card and disappeared into the back of the store. When she returned, she announced in her loudest possible voice that I did not have enough on my card to pay for my goods. Needless to say, I was very angry indeed and did all I could to hold on to my temper. I responded in an equally loud voice and asked the check out girl to put my items to one side; I would be back to pay for them.
Read more: A Situation where I lost my Temper by Winifred Scott
The Transformation by Winifred Scott
Writing Group - Memoirs - Telling It Like It Is
The Transformation
I was born in Jamaica, one of twelve children. Thinking back, my life in the West Indies was truly magical. We were a close knit Christian family always there for each other. My mother was a strong, proud, honest and giving human being. She always had time for family, friends or community alike. No problem was ever too much for her. I remember saying to myself with conviction that when I become an adult I was going to be just like my idol, my role model – my mother who was everything to me.
The Avenue by Yvonne Hylton
Writing Group - Memoirs - Telling It Like It Is
The Avenue
As I strolled down Avenue Hill
And turned right onto Harehills
Avenue, up along Potternewton Park,
I suddenly stood still, looked with
Awe as a sound echoed through
The trees, each leaf seemed to gallivant
In the same direction with such
Beauty. Each branch bowing its head,
The billowing sound suddenly became
A whisper, almost as if slowing down.
As I started to notice the different
Shades of green, it was as though the
Trees whispering sounds were
Speaking to me. Yes, I felt sure of the power,
Strength and awesomeness of God
Upon me. I realised the trees were
Worshiping, so I worshiped there
And then on the pathway along side
The Park, with the trees of
The field as they clap their hands.
Neville Hilton Euroy Bourne
Writing Group - Memoirs - Telling It Like It Is
Neville Hilton Euroy Bourne
I was born of 3rd January 1931. Son of Charles Hilton and Viola Bourne “Frenches” in the parish of St George on the island of Barbados in the West Indies. I went to school at St Luke’s Boys until the age of 16.