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Creative writing at the Moravian Settlement

  • 2 min read |
  • Posted by Justlife
  • On 02 May 2014

Last week Justlife hosted a creative writing workshop. Six service users visited to Fairfield Moravian Settlement, a historic community close to the Manchester centre. The group used the architecture as a starting point and imagined the people that may have used and lived in those buildings over the years.

The Teacher – Don

This morning I arrived early in the science lab at the local high school to setup the pendulums for physics experiments. The curriculum requires that we cover this area of physics. This is to enable our students to have an appreciation of gravity. My goal for that lesson was to have the students complete at least two experiments within the allotted two hours including some exercises. The students came in all on time and all experiments and exercises were completed on time.

The Nanny – Florence

My name is Florence.

I’m seventy years of age and I live as a nanny in a beautiful home. I look after one wonderful little girl who I have raised and who feels like my own. I also raised her mother from a very young age, however we don’t have the same relationship anymore as I much prefer them when they are younger.

My family is what I live for. I have four children – two boys and two girls – and I’m a very proud grandma of two beautiful little girls. I’m working hard so I can live closer to them so I can spend my days watching my grandchildren grow into adulthood.

To my great regret I lost my lifelong partner many years ago but I know he’s watching and guiding me with the angels.

Demolished Flats

The smell of excitement, the whiff in the air, the shaking of hands as we all wait to cheer. All people sharing memories they have. The sight of it going makes them feel sad. We all hear the siren, so loud it had rang We all come together and wait for the bang ‘Boom’ is the sound so deadly And just the taste of debris And the scent of dust. We pat ourselves down and all walk away Knowing we will never see the flats again

The Old Oak

The old oak small and sadLost is leaves now it’s madSpring is here buds are growing on its branchesSummer comes then leaves have stuckAutumn’s here. Leaves are falling from the branchesWinter comes. The old oak is sad.No leaves on the branches.Standing there all on its own.Bare as can be til spring comes and new buds on its branches

Liz Postlethwaite (Director of Small Things Creativity, Community, Performance) led the workshop