The Best View in England: Arvon Foundation Creative Writing Course at The Hurst

John Osborne's Best View in England

Last week I went on a residential writing course with the Arvon Foundation.  I’ve been longing to do one of these courses for years, putting it off because of lack of time, family commitments and hesitation about spending so much money on a ‘holiday’ just for me. I’m so pleased I did sign up - I had a brilliant time.

The Hurst Photo credit: Anise Hamilton

The course I took was held at The Hurst in Shropshire which was formerly the home of playwright John Osborne.  It’s a beautiful old building in a rural setting surrounded by a huge garden. Every morning before our workshop started I did the ‘azalea’ walk through several hundred metres of very colourful, scented azaleas and rhododendrons.  Stunning but a bit too much - clashing colours and slightly sickly sweet scent.  I  preferred the wilder section of the circular walk which was at its peak spring luxuriance with fresh leaves, fading bluebells and a pink/purple weed (red? campion) and, on one glorious sunny morning, dragonflies with metallic blue wings.. I wasn’t alone in appreciating the garden - quite a few of the other writers enjoyed attempting to identify the wildflowers and unusual garden plants. 

Photo credit Anise Hamilton

Another day some of us went on a longer walk in the afternoon.  We walked past the giant redwood trees and then followed the track across a steep meadow dotted with buttercups to the pretty village of Clun and its ruined castle. And then there was the reassuringly messy kitchen garden and the bench looking over what John Osborne insisted was the best view in England. Just being in this place was inspiring.  

Each evening the course members and tutors got together over dinner.  We took turns in groups to cook the evening meal and wash up. Good fun if a little stressful at times.  The Hurst isn’t run like a hotel - you help yourself to breakfast and can make yourself a drink in the kitchen whenever you want. This made it seem very welcoming. The food was simple, healthy and there was plenty of it including a new cake every day.   

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Our tutors were crime and historical novelist, Andrew Taylor and Janine Giovanni who had a career in publishing and now works as a writing coach.  Each morning they ran lively workshops for the group of fifteen writers.  Andrew has published over forty novels so he knows what he is talking about yet he was very modest.  One thing he said which I found reassuring was that he does not fully plan his novel before he begins to write.  In fact he says he ‘gets ideas’, he ‘blunders forward’ to complete a first draft and then much of the work happens at the rewriting stage. He also stresses the importance of what he called wrong-footing the reader and allowing them to make up their own answers.  And this doesn’t just apply to crime fiction.  Janine set out to help me and my fellow procrastinators on the course explore and dismantle the blocks which prevent us from actually completing the writing projects we have embarked upon.  Her practical advice and gentle guidance have left me feeling more determined and positive about moving forward with my writing. 

One of the best things about the course was meeting the other writers, a really interesting and diverse group of people.  The oldest was in her 80s, the youngest only 20, with most somewhere in between. Some were experienced writers, others were just getting started.  We came from all over England and beyond - one writer had travelled from Canada, another from the Isle of Man.  There were, among others, journalists, teachers/lecturers, young professionals from London, and an engineer from Yorkshire who brought along her violin to entertain us. We wrote in a range of different genres - crime fiction, fantasy, children’s fiction, romance, historical fiction and climate fiction.  On the final evening we had to read some of our work to the whole group.  Although I was a bit nervous,  I felt more confident than I did at the beginning of the week and enjoyed reading the piece I’d written.  

Regular readers of this blog (all three of you) may recall that this is not the first time I have attended a writing course. I returned from that one full of inspiration and good intentions but still did not complete the project I started.   This time I’m not letting myself off the hook.  One problem I have is that now that I am largely retired I have too much time.  And no deadlines.  So I have taken Janine’s advice and have made an arrangement with another member of the group to swap 1000 words every month. No excuses.  . 

Visiting The Scullery in Ballyronan

A couple of weekends ago I went on a visit to Northern Ireland along with two of my sisters.  We booked a holiday cottage near our home village of Ballyronan.   Normally we stay with Sylvia who lives in Co Down but this time she joined us to stay locally so we had a bit more time to see relatives and in particular to check out The Scullery, the cafe which has now opened in our old family home.  

My mother Sadie was postmistress in the village for 35 years.  This photograph of her and Jim, my father, was taken in 1998 shortly before she retired. Photo Credit Ardboe Gallery.

This is what the old post office looks like now. 

On Saturday we had lunch in The Scullery with my Aunty Mary. She used to help Mum in the Post Office covering holidays.  We also used to help serve customers with varying degrees of competence.  I wasn't much good, being too absent-minded to remember to tear out the dockets in pension books so the accounts wouldn't balance at the end of the week. A cousin who lives in Belgium also joined us for lunch with her husband - she's not in the photo as she took it. So it was a real family reunion. 

It was very strange having lunch in what was our old sitting room.  I am pleased, though, that the house is now full of people again. Joanne who runs the cafe and her husband have done a really good job renovating  - it looks really smart and modern. I gave her a copy of this photograph of Mum and Dad. and hope she will display it. She says that quite a few of her customers remember coming into the  Post Office and talk about them.

The food was good too.  I had homemade vegetable soup which was delicious and a slice of wheaten bread. Some of the others had 'Ulster Fries' complete with plenty of fried bread - soda farls, potato bread and a pancake.  This comes in the standard size below and a 'Wee Fry' for smaller appetites.  There are also plenty of buns and traybakes to have with tea and coffee served in pretty floral mugs and you can buy Morelli's ice cream to takeaway at the counter.  We used to have to drive all the way to Portstewart for that and now you can get it in Ballyronan.

We stayed in Moyola River Cottage, just a few miles from Ballyronan.  It was really lovely clean and well equipped cottage in a quiet spot near the river.  We didn't know the owners though some of our relatives did. They were very friendly and it's a great place to stay if you want to visit the area.  It's near Seamus Heaney HomePlace too - I'd have like to go back there but there wasn't time.

On Sunday morning we went for a riverside walk right down to where the Moyola joins Lough Neagh.  It was a glorious day - the sun shone all weekend.  And then we went back to Ballyronan for a walk around the marina there.  It's a long time now since any of us lived in the village so not many people remember us but we did run into some familiar faces in the local shop. 

 

The Moyola River.  Seamus Heaney writes about the river in his poem 'A New Song'

My cousin Lorna and I also visited an elderly lady who was friendly with my mother before she was married.  I am continuing my research into family history and it was a real pleasure to talk to this lady, Nan Dale, about her memories.  She told us about what life was like for them in the 50s.  They used to cycle together to Magherafelt to catch a bus.  Mum used to work in what Nan called the Assistance Board and Nan worked the telephone exchange.  She also told us about holidays they spent in Bray in Co Wicklow and also in Portrush. 

We only stayed two nights as at present it is only me, the eldest sister, who is retired.  It was all over much too quickly. I plan to return later in the year to do some more research and visit relatives I didn't have time to see this weekend.