I’m doing the “Couch to 80k” – a writing bootcamp from writer and poet Tim Clare. For more information go here: http://www.timclarepoet.co.uk/couchto80kwritingbootcamp/
Write for ten minutes about whatever you like – no stopping. Don’t worry about grammar, feel free to change subject at any point. Try not to filter for quality, just keep writing. Let it be bad if it needs to be.
It’s weird trying to think of the things that are going through my head and decide what to write down and what not to write down. I’m supposed to be not filtering for content but I worry that what if I put something wildly inappropriate? I probably want but I’m also trying to filter. I’ve been thinking a lot about family recently. This morning, for reasons, more than ever. My godfather, Uncle Ray, passed away about ten years. He was an amazing man. He lost both his legs through diabetes in his old age but it didn’t stop. He ran his family butchers in a tiny village in the West Midlands in the UK. A family business that has been going since the 1800’s and they have the history to prove it. History. Now there’s a subject I love. I hated it at school because I had some shit teachers. My first was Mr. Capel. He was young and it was very clear he didn’t care about his students, just coming in and doing his job. Okay, maybe it wasn’t clear but that’s how I saw it. I once got confused by the home work and tried to ask him about and it and he laughed and still didn’t explain. This was a grammar school and it was horrible. My second history teacher, who I had for two years, was Miss Mart. She was easily one hundred years old. She was related to the Royal family and to Churchill. That sentence enough should tell you everything you need to know about her. She took us on a field trip to Westminster and the Houses of Parliament. She got into a lot of trouble for it as we got back late. We were due back at 6pm and it was gone 11pm when we finally got back. This was in the days before mobile phones and she didn’t think to ask the coach driver to pull in at the services so she could call the school and let them know. We were late because we had to hang around to meet the Prime Minister and she’d been held up in parliament. Eventually I got to shake hand with Maggie Thatcher. The woman who ruined my childhood. The woman who my dad adored! After Miss Mart we got, for two years, Mr. Dutton. He was useless. He taught us about the two World Wars. Well I say taught. If we weren’t in the mood to be taught we just had to ask him if he’d seen any good films recently. His favourite film was Crocodile Dundee and he’d talk for hours about it and we’d get no work done. So history. Hated it at school, love it now. I stayed in a castle on Monday night. It was stunning. The room wasn’t to my taste but still very nice and clean. Clearly playing to the American tourist market. Galway gets filled with US tourists, tracing their family trees. I’ve done my family tree. It goes back to the 1600’s so far. I should really get back to that. It’s a topic….
This exercise was interesting. I wasn’t sure where I was going but it was good to just keep typing.
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