THE BRISTOL SHORT STORY PRIZE

How could I not love the Bristol Short Story Prize?



Most of the pictures on their website are of people writing and reading short stories on benches!



So it's a particularly thrill to be invited to speak at their prize presentation this year.

You can find out more, and read an interview that I did with the talented Ellen Grant, a writer and student at Bath Spa University here. I particularly liked her last question: 'And finally, would you rather be re-incarnated as Samuel Taylor Coleridge or Samuel L. Jackson?'.

However, nothing really beats an interview I once did in America during which I was asked, 'what sort of cake are you?'

A perfect Sunday ...

... consists of ....



Seeing the oldest bench in England at Ham House - a receipt records it was made by one Henry Harlow in 1674. Those who know me will realise just what this meant to me. I only just restrained myself from texting my kids, feeling rather like I did when I went to Coldplay and rang them so they could hear 'Fix Me' play live. Yep, folks, this is a bench with rock star glory (and about ten times the glamour of Chris Martin, let's be honest)



BUT... I'm whispering so the bench doesn't hear, the possible tinglings of a new obsession - stone pineapples. The traditional sign of friendship, a lovely thing for any house.



Exploring the Privy Gardens at Hampton Court Palace with my garden history class, no one asking if it was time to go yet, where was the cafe or complaining about just how many photographs I needed to take. But more than that, seeing something I've only just seen in books or slides actually laid out in front of me, and being able to put into context just what the river meant in relation to the house, how the designs would have looked from the main windows and the surprising restfulness of it all.



In comparison at least to this part of the garden which looks peaceful now but would have housed a collection of heraldic beasts on poles designed to show Henry VIII's power. I had thought of the impact as just being visual before, but Brian Dix (who was showing us round) talked about the creaking noises the metal beasts would have made as they swung round in the wind, and the formidable impression this noise, mixed with the smells of meat roasting from the kitchens, would have had on visitors arriving to the palace by boat ... even before they saw anything. The garden as a deliberate sign of strength and status ... I'm excited how this keeps coming up in my reading. I had thought about them just being places of tranquility and escape mostly.

So a whole other dimension to my thoughts about gardens.



And last but not least, meeting and spending some time with one of my aboslute blog idols, gardenhistorygirl. She is just as lovely as her blog and of course, I got my picture taken with her - but I didn't ask for her autograph. Oh yes, I still retain a little bit of coolness.

Admittedly, not much, but some...

Dancing in the Dark

It's been far too long since we've danced on this blog. (Lovely benches too)

Things that make me happy no 2

Coming across this gentle bench unexpectedly.

(Let's gloss over last night's Eurovision Song Contest, apart from to say the olives were particularly delicious and should have won.)

Rain rain go away

And as it continues to pour I'm trying to capture my memories of Saturday's sunshine and just being able to sit out on a bench at Sissinghurst and watch the world go by.







And here's the bench at the bottom of the staircase up to Vita Sackville West's famous tower writing room. Although I think she probably didn't sit on it sideways ...

Places to sit...

I've loved public benches for many many years, possibly since I was a teenager and we used to hang out round the bench near the public telephone box. Drive through every small English village, and you'll see teenagers gathering round benches, just doing nothing, except of course they're not doing nothing, they're doing the only kind of living they can until they 'break right OUT of there' and hit the big towns. Anyway, my heart must have got lost somewhere on those benches, because they still have the power to make me excited. So excited, in fact, that I started a small bench blog some time ago, just for me. But it seems people have been visiting, perhaps having a quiet sit down there, so I guess I'll have to start doing nothing on it properly.

In the meantime, here are two of the benches in Tunbridge Wells from my photo collection. I've picked them, not because I knew the people, or they're particularly beautiful, but there something so poignant about where they are both placed.

This one - 'it's all good' ...



... sits directly above the park basketball courts where I hope Aymen was able to enjoy playing once ...



And this one - 'someone special' - says nothing more than that, no dates or reason why she's special....



... although the view of the children's playground you get when you sit on Jane's bench somehow speaks of a love of life and gentleness to me...



And I'm away now for a couple of days, so just so I don't fall behind on prompts, here are two ...

Wednesday - ... Wave at the grey car ...

Thursday ... lay your head on my shoulder ...