Hartlepool Author Showcase

Well, that was fun at Community Hub Central with twenty-four other (mainly) self-publishers. Lots of supportive chat among the authors, swapping ideas and experiences. Fortunately, there were also sufficient Joe and Josephine Publics to keep us engaged in the purported task of selling a book or two (or three in my case). And many of those not buying were happy to engage and show a polite interest in the wares, taking away a promotional bookmark that might prompt an on-line purchase further down the line.

 

[Authentic selfie - 24 October 2026]

RIVER SONG

The two Americans sat on the riverside bench and looked over towards the bridge.

“River’s high,” said Paul. “Almost up to the arches.”

“All that rain yesterday,” replied Arthur. “Up in the dales.”

“Lot of debris floating down,” said Paul. “Tree branches, lumps of wood, maybe from boats washed away.”

“Look at that foam on the surface,” said Arthur. “Must be something to do with the peat.”

“Like bubbles,” mused Paul.

“Gives me an idea for a song,” said Arthur.

“What’s that?” asked Paul.

“Bridge over Bubbled Water,” said Arthur.

“That’ll never work, Art,” said Paul. “But what about …”

 

[A hundred-word story - 8 October 2026]

AUTUMN EQUINOX

The slanted Earth points

Its northern pole away

From the sun.

The hemisphere turns

Its shoulder from the warmth.

Autumn has begun.

 

Around the church, bells now silent,

Trees ring in the season’s change.

Leaves are shed,

Spiked conker cases fall and split,

And turn the pavement red.

 

[Poem - 23 September 2026]

Beamish in September

A ticket to Beamish lasts all year, and we generally get three visits in – December for the festive displays, Easter or summer with the grandkids, and best of all early September when it is warm but not too hot and the school parties have not yet got themselves organised.

So it was pleasantly quiet last Friday, enabling us to sample some of the attractions often crowded out on busy days. Iced buns were aplenty at the Edwardian bakery, £2.50 each but bigger than some loaves you see. The 1950s cinema was open for a look round and we even took in the 11:30 show of coloured advert slides, a coming-soon trailer, and a short feature. These last two in glorious black and white, all ending with two verses of the national anthem, standing optional (though in my memory the tradition was to join the stampede to the exits while the opening drumroll was still building itself up).

Up to Pockerley Manor for a pub lunch 1820s style at the Drovers Tavern. Emerging, we spotted puffs of smoke rising from the railway so strolled down to the engine shed and straight onto Locomotion for the short pull up the incline. We were accompanied by a well-behaved early bird school trip, and it was good to see primary age children still able to get excited about a train ride.

We rode round to the town atop the tram then walked back to the entrance via the railway station and fairground. As ever, a grand day out.

 

[Authentic selfie - 17 September 2026]

BOVRIL

There was a young lady named June

For whom Bovril was really a boon

On toast spread so thickly

It would make one feel sickly

She’d ladle it on with a spoon

 

[Limerick - 10 September 2026]

WHAT’S IN A NAME

Tracy Stopford-Baines had an identity crisis. Everyone at school thought, having heard the name, they knew all about Tracy Stopford-Baines. Upper class twit was one of the milder labels used.

Why’ve you got a girl’s name, he was asked. And, why’ve you got two second names, doesn’t your mum know who your dad was?

 

The answers, though nobody cared, were: (a) his grandfather was Irish, hence Tracy. No E he always had to say; and (b) his mother’s family, the Baines, were full of their own importance and long heritage. Long but long fallen on harder times, such that Emily Baines had ended up marrying (in haste to preserve legitimacy) Johnny Stopford, ace winger of the Salford rugby league team. Of course, if he’d been ace winger of a football team, say Everton or Liverpool, it would all have been different. Then Tracy Stopford-Baines would have been accepted without question by his peers at some fee-paying private school in leafy Cheshire.

 

But not at Ellesmere Comprehensive in Eccles.

 

[Flash fiction - 3 September 2026]

Roseberry to Slapewath

This month’s leg of the Cleveland Way had a complicated itinerary.

Set off at nine for the drive to Guisborough, get the number 18 bus from there towards Stokesley alighting at Newton under Roseberry. Walk over the shoulder of Roseberry Topping, up onto Hutton Moor, resplendent with purple heather. Packed lunch at Highcliffe Nab with panoramic views of the North Sea. Down through Guisborough Woods to Slapewath in good time to catch the X93 bus back to Guisborough.

 

However, the X93 bus starts in Scarborough, over an hour’s drive away so no surprise its running late, but fifty minutes! Fortunately, Café Slapewath at the Fox and Hounds is open, so a seat and a hot beverage fill in the wait. The eventual ride into Guisborough is short, the sun is still shining, and the Ironstone Miner has a tempting beer garden to the front. It’s a Wetherspoon, but they have cold Guiness (Zero of course) so a pint goes down well and I’m still home by six-thirty.

 

[Authentic selfie - 27 August 2026]

Library of the Four Winds

By pure chance our visit to Castle Howard coincided with the duration of an art installation in the Temple of the Four Winds. By artist Es Devlin and appropriately entitled the Library of the Four Winds, it took up most of the space in the tall folly to the west of the house. A high arched bookcase, reaching up into the domed roof, rotated on a reflective black revolving plinth, which provided a disconcerting perspective looking down. The bookshelves were stacked with paperbacks inserted with their spines innermost so showing only page edges to the world. Projected onto the revolving structure was text, extracts from some of the books weaved into a stream of consciousness, the words matched by a soundtrack that voiced them.

Impressive, but the words were hard to make out on the moving uneven surface, and the voice was ethereally quiet and underlaid by a droning dirge. So, while odd words, phrases, and the drift of meaning could be made out, I was left wanting  a transcript, which was not available.

 

[Authentic selfie - 20 August 2026]

Eyes on the Universe

How mind-boggling is the universe. Which is why I rarely try to comprehend it these days. Yesterday’s solar eclipse at 90% was strangely compulsive viewing. TV tuned to the BBC News channel with live streams from total eclipse sites in Iceland and Spain, while periodically popping on my eclipse glasses to check progress outside. The glasses dated from 1999 when I went down to Lands’ End to view the total eclipse there. It was cloudy that day, so they were not needed; thankfully this time it was clear, and I had a perfect view of the cosmic phenomenon.

Then, past midnight, I was back in the garden to recline in a deck chair and look skyward for meteors, the Perseid shower. Shower is a misnomer. I saw three in half an hour but in between stared at the stars and contemplated both the vastness of the universe and its impossibility.

 

[Authentic selfie - 13 August 2026]

LAST HOPE

You’re my last hope, she said.

I’d answered the frantic knock on my door with trepidation. It was, after all, past midnight. I peered through the narrow gap afforded by the security chain, saw a woman and behind her two smaller shapes, children maybe.

At a loss, I said, why me?

Yours is the last house, the last door.

She wasn’t wrong. The street was a dead end terminating in the high brick wall of the neighbouring factory.

Can we come in? she said, pleadingly. They are after us, you’re our last chance.

There seemed an urgency, time to consider options was limited, and emotions crowded out rational thought. Curiosity - what was behind this panicked approach to a stranger’s door? And anxiety - what would I be letting myself in for? And, admit it, excitement - was my humdrum existence about to get jolted out of its recent torpor.

Or should I just close the door and leave them to their fate?

 

I shut the door, unhooked the chain, and beckoned them in.

 

[Flash fiction - 23 July 2026]

ADAM’S APPLE

“One green apple with stalk and leaf”. Adan re-read the requirements for entries to  Class 32b at the village show and pondered. He had apple trees, fruit in abundance, all with stalk and leaf, but no apple of his would ever win a prize. Unless the requirements were for one apple pecked to bits by birds, or one apple worm infested, or one apple mottled with blight.

So he needed to cheat, somehow attach a stalk and leaf to one of the perfect apples bought this morning at the greengrocers. He’d also shopped at the hardware store for a tube of super glue.

The first attempt did not go well. Gluing the existing apple stalk to a three-inch sprig off tree was impossible. Take two worked better – removing the stalk from the apple, filling the hole left with glue, and sticking the tree sprig in place. It looked authentic enough, provided no-one tried to lift the composite fruit up. But next day, he found the sprig wilted and the apple brown at the top. He would need to apply the glue on the day, as close to judging time as possible.

Come the Saturday of the show, he hung around in the tent until the last minute and then, hunched over his produce to shield his felony, he got to work.

Ten-thirty sharp, time for judging, time for the exhibitors to depart. A man in a white coat and trilby walked towards him. “Time to vacate the show tent now, sir.”

“Do I have to?” asked Adam.

“Yes, sir. You must. It’s okay, your apple will be quite safe.” Adam shook his head. The official continued, “You seem very attached to your exhibit.”

“More than you think,” replied Adam. With a shrug he rose and walked out of the marquee.

 

Outside he headed straight for the St John Ambulance tent where he nonchalantly asked if they had anything that could remove apples superglued to fingers.

 

[Flash fiction - 2 July 2026]

After sun

A day walking the Cleveland Way at Kildale brought splendid views of Roseberry Topping and Captain Cook’s monument. It also brought a warm sun offset by a stiff cool breeze. The latter did little to mitigate the effect of the UV rays of the former on my unprotected face. After using the razor this morning, it was a case of applying aftersun rather than aftershave.

[Authentic selfie - 18 June 2026]

SUPERMARKET SWEEP

I see you won that prize – the supermarket sweep.

Yes, sounds better than it was.

How’s that.

They only gave me one minute! Sixty seconds and the aisles are a mile long.

I’d have gone for the booze, and the meat fridges.

Yeah, but I don’t drink much and the freezer’s already full.

So what did you get?

Cat food – the pouches. They cost a bloody fortune, so I stacked boxes of 48 high as I could, a bit risky though.

How risky?

Well, the cats are getting on. I only hope they live long enough to eat the stuff.

[A one-hundred-word story – 7 May 2026]

Westwood at Bowes

A trip yesterday to the Bowes Museum at Barnard Castle to view the Vivienne Westwood exhibition. I’m no follower of fashion but still found it interesting and some of the exhibits on display surprisingly smart and well finished off. Highlight though was the video loop of cat walks, which included Naomi Campbell’s tumble from a pair of eight-inch heels. Never have I seen anyone fall so gracefully.

[Authentic selfie - 23 April 2026]

Small game

Two unusual visitors to the garden this morning. It happens from time to time. A couple of years ago we had a moorhen pecking at the patio doors. The two today were less cooperative, rooting around in the far borders. Game bird shaped, brown, smaller than a pheasant or a grouse. I thought maybe a quail, but the eye stripe seemed to have some red in it.

I took photo, blew it up blurry, then fired up the Merlin bird ID app. From the image it was right back at me – red-legged partridge. What red lags? Must have been up to their knees in the yet to be cut grass. So, two red-legged partridges, or is it a brace?

Or do you have to shoot them first to use that moniker.

[Authentic selfie - 12 March 2026]

Verses for three alternative greeting cards

 “Commiserations on your rejection”

Your manuscript arrived today

We looked at it right away

It took no time to decide

Of the mark it was well wide

 

But please continue to try and write

One day perhaps you’ll get it right

At the award winners’ table, you may sup

But ‘til then, the day job, don’t give up

 

 

“Happy Dog-owner’s day”

 

Greetings on dog-owners’ day

We hope it finds you fit

And ready to go walking

And pick up lumps of ----

 

“Happy (leap day) Birthday”

 

You’re a leap-day baby, what a chore

Your birthdays come but once in four

Worst of all your pension’s not due

Until you’re two hundred and seventy-two

 

[Poems - 4 February 2026]