Saturday, 21 January 2017


For this week’s homework for my Creative Writing Group, we are asked to write an opening dialog for a radio play. Not my forte, dialog, and I’ve honestly not got much interest in writing plays, and as I have friends coming tomorrow I thought I’d get a head start so this is what I came up with. Not laid out as per a play script, but at least I’ve made an attempt on the dialog.


“We’ll wake up one day to find the tours of the White House being run by Trump Organisation and a blue neon sign crowning the dome. Why have they voted in someone without any previous experience? It’s like taking a road sweeper and asking him to teach A level students French!” “Mind you” thought Jamie, “nowadays a road sweeper is just as likely to be a fluent French speaking African migrant as a bloke from Bermondsey.”

“Eat your dinner, Jamie” said his mum gently but firmly as she touched his hand to get his attention.

For a few mouthfuls, Jamie’s attention is on his tuna paste bake. Then he stops chewing, swallows, and says “Did you know that Tuna is on the brink of extinction? 4 Million tonnes of tuna are consumed each year, 20% of it in the US, 9.2% in the UK”

“How much is 4 Million tonnes?” piped up his 5 year old little brother.

“More than you could ever eat. Now just finish that last bit for Mummy, there’s a good boy” said Carole.

“How do you know its 4 Billion tonnes?” snapped Josie, trying not to be left out of the proceedings.

“ 4 million, Josie, A billion is 109 or 1,000,000,000, a million is only 106. or 1,000,000.“ Retorted Jamie, waving his fork in the air.

“So how do you know it’s 4 MILLION tonnes, then?”

“The Greenpeace man said they’ve published a league table of brands scoring them on Traceability, Sustainability, Legality , Equity, Sourcing Policing, Customer Info and Driving Change. We talked about it when he came to tea. I hope this isn’t John West mum, they came out worse of all.”

Carole stopped eating. She looked across the table at Jon, who shook his head. Then at her son.

“Jamie, when did the Greenpeace man come to tea?

“4 o’clock last Tuesday. I made him a pot of tea and we ate Fruit and Nut Club biscuits”

“And does this Greenpeace man have a name?” put in Jon

“Robert Brown, he’s 38 and drives an old white Vauxhall Vivira van with new black leather seats. He likes retro rock music from the 1960s, like the music granddad plays. He’s always…”

“You’ve been in his van?” said Carole trying to control her emotions so it wouldn’t start to show in her voice.

© Sheila Ash, 21st January 2017

Monday, 16 January 2017

Kiva Shiva

The picture stirs a memory
of place, of time -
the broken walls,
the market stall,
of saree colours bright and gay,

her smile of welcome every day.
Her words were new
I even learnt a few
to help me on my way.

Now the opportunity
presented most surprisingly on Kiva -
to assist in her prosperity
back her wish for diversity of stock to sell.

I click on send
and smile
in anonimity.

© Sheila Ash, 16th January 2017

Snowed in

As she approaches I smile and pick up two sliders, one to cut off my pint of milk from her upcoming load and the other to block it off from the huge mounds in front of me.

“Thanks you. It’s very busy this morning”

“Yeah” I reply politely, feeling anything but as my patience levels are strenuously tested in the face of this multitude.

“Everyone has come out at the same time”, she continues

“Just my luck” I say nodding to my solitary item still standing at the back of the bay.

“They must think they are going to get snowed in”

A dismissive “Hmmm” creeps out before I could stop it. “I don’t think so. Highly unlikely. Weather conditions aren’t right for that at all”

She says nothing.

I turn back to think of my waiting cup of tea, remembering being snowed in and what a snow sky looks like. Time passes.

© Sheila Ash 16th January 2017