Herring House: Stories and Other Writing

  A long while ago when I used to live with my mum and Dave, my sister in Ormesby near Yarmouth, we had a big garden with hedges and trees.  I liked climbing them and hiding in the hedges where no one could find me because it was my own place (my self place) where I could think.  Sometimes, I liked climbing trees and siting under them to think about things. Now, I live in Great Yarmouth. You can't think so much as I did but when I had a dog called Pebbles, I walked miles and that makes you think. That was my space as well. In the absence of trees, there aren't any in Yarmouth, there was always my dog.  Cathy

  Thank you my friends. Thank you for giving all of us what we need to live. Thank you for the things we need to eat. Thank you for keeping me warm, Thank you for keeping me cool. Thank you for your beauty. Thank you for holding me as a child, for being a place to meet and sometimes to get lost.  We even named some of you, you know so much fun we had together. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've not seen you enough.  I've seen you but I've not spend time with you.  I hope I do soon. You are worth more than gold. You're even waving at me every time I see you from afar. You are an amazing friend, provider. All my love, Daniel.

  I see the sea, I see a strip club, I see a pier, I see a hut, I see a dog, says Dave. NOTICING The sky is almost void of cloud, vapour trails follow three planes silently in flight. The sun is glistening on a calm sea. Britannia Pier is deserted and sleeping, The cool sea breezde turns the silent wind turbines. All of a sudden, a crowd of people come round the corner, you can hear the people chatting and the sound of baby buggies being pushed.  A lady sits ion the beach, watching her little boy with his bucket and spade, playing in the sand.  Council men are working in the toielts and there is a fleeting aroma of chemicals.  Alan The wind mills in the sea - flowing to the wind amile offshore, moving from West to East - a golden beach stretches for miles with some tiny sand dunes. The Deck Chair house is not open which is weird on a day like this with the sun blazing.  Behind me people prepare for a game of bowls on lush green grass. The quietness of the beach ...

  Standing on the edge of the falls, my mind was more active not because of the view but the movement.  I felt it all through my body, it made me feel unsafe but excited at the same time, surrounded by granite rock beaten by the torrent of rushing water which was wild then the water fell to earth. There was no big splash it just seemed like light mist falling on a still pond and disappearing into a small tame river. It didn’t make sense how could so much water came over the horseshoe shaped falls forever but leaves something so calm and beautiful.   Simon

  I was waking by the side of the Thames when I saw a man collecting mud in buckets. I asked what he was doing. And he said he was doing art with it – and asked me if I would help him back to his workshop as the buckets were heavy.   I said yes, and as we were walking back, I asked him when he started making art out of mud. ‘About 20 years ago,’ he said he’d done hundreds of pieces using mud. After about twenty minutes we reached his studio which was a rundown building in the back streets of London. I walked through the broken door into a room with white boards covering the brick walls and sheets covered the floor with dried mud. When we put the buckets down, he asked me if I wanted to try it. He passed me some overalls, gloves and a mask and I started out on a small board, drawing with the mud.   It was really relaxing which surprised me because I am not the best at drawing, but when I’d finished, he came over and asked me to take a step back and look at what I h...

  The table  that the blank white pieces of paper rest on that I can feel as my hand slides over the cold surface. The flowing lines of the tree that lived and reproduced on the surface is cold and reflects the light streaming  through the window. People walking past in silence the traffic drownuing them out. Do they notice me?  No I think not. But life isn't all about me. It is all about life on this little planet we live on  in the universe. Heather

Chloe was 19 years old and studying at Juilliard Ballet Dance School in New York City. She’s danced since she was four years old, her mother Alice, was a primary school teacher and Ted, her father was a piano teacher. Chloe was an only child, her family were quite well off, loving and encouraging. They cherished Chloe and supported her dreams. As a small child Chloe loved to dance around in fairy costumes and pretend to be a ballet dancer. She was never shy, but a lively, outgoing child. They lived on the edge of a big city on a quiet street where many families had settled to raise their children away from the hustle of the city. Chloe had a best friend from the age of six. Her name was Holly and she had a little pony, Jess, a happy go lucky Arab cross. The two girls had a happy childhood, one loving ponies and the other loving dancing and the ballet. It was a cold Friday morning in February and started off like any other day in Chloe’s life when she received an urgent call a...

  Gripping the bricks with all my strength, my joints within my body ache with a burning desire. A few more struggling moments until I reach the top of the watchtower knowing I am within reach of this small but achievable moment of today.  The struggle of pushing my body to its limit, the overwhelming desire flowing within my veins is achieved. I stand up panting, slowly lift my head , blinking and regathering my thoughts before looking out across the ocean. The cold breeze gently caressing my skin and I take one look at the sun rising above it and close my eyes and say - 'It was worth it.' Leia ***   Looking out of the window, being above the people, traffic, houses and trees, I could see for miles. Breathing in deeply the smell of the room, the dust, the mildew in the corner, the age of the tower.  The watchtower had been in the town for generations, in my family. My Grandpa would tell stories of how he would watch for planes in the war. But today, I just get ...

Last week I had a long day. The night had been cold and wet.  I mean it is the UK what else did I expect/  But it was time to move on. I picked ip my stuff and the tent. Looked back at the graveyard, took a quick photo. It was hard to see cause of my tremors. But I walked away, thinking... I will never come back. H  

  I'm in a boat to Amsterdam. I'm running away again. Somewhere familiar, somewhere I feel safe but far enough away that I'm not worried about being found.  I've been here before time and time again but this time it feels different. This time, I'm not excited, as such I'm really taking in my surroundings.  The cold, barren ocean, it's never bloody sunny on these trips. It feels like the price of solitude.  The old hot tubs still there, it's always a lone guy, they're bloody bonkers.  I always miss England until I get to Holland. I never miss England on a plane, why's that? I guess I have more time to think on here.  I've just remembered the chaos I caused the last time I was on board this thing. I wonder if they remember? Better be on my best behaviour, the cost of being anywhere familiar. At least I'm not trapped on a bloody plane. At least I can smoke, at least I can walk. Who gives a fuck! What are they going to do? Throw me off the bo...

  December 12th and everyone gathered - the trustees, the friends, the staff, the writers - the lights clicked off and we were met with a series of chilling tales.  It is after all close to Christmas, the nights are darkening, the sun rises late, it is the perfect time for a haunting story. Read these scary tales here - written by Simon, Dave and Alan - all linked to Great Yarmouth - itself a town of tales.  The Haunting of the Star Hotel By Simon   In the heart of Great Yarmouth stands the Star Hotel. It’s a grand building with a long and mysterious past. Overlooking the river it has grown derelict. I was a carpenter, a good craftsman and I can remember looking at the architecture of the place, still grand despite its neglect but inside. The heart of the hotel was empty as if it had stopped in time. It was up to me as the top carpenter to create a new heartbeat in the place. I thought this many times over the six months I was there. It was strange working th...

  The summer had come at last with long light days. This meant more time out of the houses we lived in or just stayed at.  This was because we were all related and lived in a close community as a family of travellers from Ireland.  We all stayed together. This was also the time to do whatever we wanted. There was a varied age gap between us all. There must have been about twenty of us and the age bracket was 8-12.  Me - I was ten going on twenty; just like the others, older than you would have thought.  So we could stay together and not get into trouble. We would go camping, never too far only two miles to the meadows and a wicked river with many things to do, including lighting a fire in camp which felt naughty because we were so young.  We could always go back and get food.  I was one of the youngest and I loved to get about so i would always go back and return with some goodies.  I remember one time I went back to see my Nan but she wasn't in s...

  We experimented by putting words and phrases randomly together making odd and sometimes lyrical connections - this was a favoured mode of expression for David Bowie who used it to construct his songs and many others. It was a favoured way of writing for the Surrealists and Dadaists.  This is one of my favourites by Mat. Limping postman slow pensioners I went to ask what mattered. Daylight, the clouds, the river silent and their tears in the middle of me.

  Actors Joanna Swan and Martin Kray performing the group-created audio drama - The Train. Sue - Lived Experience Coordinator introducing us all and the Lived Experience Collective. Rachel and Mel making the presentation. The audience who turned out on a fine Friday afternoon were rivetted. It was a very special event...thank you to St. Peter Mancroft Church...our actors and everyone who came.