This story is a confection based on a few facts. It was written for our Writers’ Circus
February 2018 meeting for which the topic was set as: “Love, in any of its many forms”.
Several years ago a nice chap from our golf club lost his wife to cancer.
He was lost, sad and lonely.
After a couple of years of moping around aimlessly, he ‘disappeared’.
Some reports said he had moved to Troon, others said Ayr. No one was sure.
Then, as if by a miracle, he appeared at our Hogmanay gathering two months ago.
He was with his new wife, a very pretty, chatty, slim lady.
It was clear to us all they were deeply in love.
They danced almost every dance, very proficiently.
Every time I glanced their way, they were smiling secretly to each other. True love.
What might one do when ‘trapped’ on a plane for over four hours on a homeward flight from
Well, if you have a fully charge iPad and an idea comes which will not be ignored, tap it
out, why don’t you?
Here is a tale about a sloth called Willi and his adventures.
This is a tale of our celebration weekend in Edinburgh, one of our favourite places now
made easily accessible directly from our local station at Hillfoot, a short walk from our front
There was no high drama, no contretemps, no hassles. Just boringly comfortable,
everything done at walking pace and very enjoyable it was too!
Had the weather been warmer, the sunshine brighter and the snell wind absent, it would
have been perfect.
But hey, it was the last weekend in January!
This is another Maisie Kaywood outing which reveals a different side of character.
Here we enter briefly into the world of of the medicine.
This is the revised version, posted after a third edit by my eagle eyed Editor, Kareth
Paterson. My apologies to readers who attempted the previous version before it was
Many thanks are due to Kareth for her diligence an fortitude.
Any remaining errors are all mine,
Here is a story set in the year 2057.
It focuses on Cynthia Beattie as she enjoys the first day of Festimas, the four-month festival of shopping which commences on 24 October 2057.
In a way, this tale is a trip down memory lane with a list of golden oldies which I hope you will look up on YouTube.
Could this be the near future which some of us oldies might see, helped by leaps forward in medicine, pharmaceuticals and care robots enabled by artificial intelligence?
I offer this with particular thanks to Kareth Paterson, my friend and editor who has stuck with it, advising and correcting, at times mystified by my flights of fancy. Without her input I doubt this piece would have been readable.
This little tale is a response to a Writers’ Circus challenge:
“I said I’m sorry. What more do you want?”
In this tale, as my Muse took me on a voyage of discovery to distant lands, we visit Shoppers’ Paradise, which could be a shopping centre near you.
Although not set at Christmas, perhaps this story should have been, with a Salvation Army brass band intoning “We Wish You a Merry Christmas”.
Which, actually, we do!
Hey, Jude is a novella, around 50,000 words and so would take about two hours to read at one session. It would be best to download the PDF to your iPad or Tablet and dip in as you have time.
This story tells the tale of a modern girl called Jude, revealing her thoughts, love life and some unexpected truths about her family and her neighbours.
It is based mainly in Glasgow and I expect locations will be familiar to many of my readers,
Be warned, it contains scenes of an adult nature.
Go on, dive in and see if you like it.
If you want more like this, try other Maisie Kaywood stories on this website.
I am always amazed at what comes from the topics set at our Writers’ Circus meetings.
Choosing arose from a challenge to write about ‘the thing you love best’ or ‘my favourite thing’.
Once the first few words were on the page the rest came in a rush, one of the easiest stories I have ever written, perhaps because the material was all there, in my noddle.
Have a go, you might enjoy it!
This is another tale about my father, usually called Jack or sometimes Jock.
It came from my Dad and recounts an incident which happened in retirement when Mum and Dad lived at Dewshill Cottages beside the busy M8 motorway in the shadow of the Kirk o Shotts TV and Radio transmitter.
I have enjoyed telling this story down through the years because it captures the essence of Dad.
After a recent re-telling I was urged by my son Craig to write it down.
If you enjoy this one, try Early One Morning, a story from his time working at Yorkhill Hospital for Sick Kids.
This is a wee tale prompted by a Writers’ Circus challenge - ‘the light switch’.
As I wrote I thought of it as a tale to be told to children, that is, as a ‘read to’ story. And, as usual, I wondered how to find a willing and affordable illustrator.
My writer friend Peter soon pointed out that this is in fact a story for adults, an archive story to remind us all what our wee ones are/were like at Ethan’s stage when questions come relentlessly.
Kareth Paterson my editor suggested that if it was to become a story for kids then it would need a lot of work to dramatise the language etc.
So, here it is, nearly as written. Many years from now Ethan as a bigger boy might read and enjoy it.
Perhaps one day, when Santa brings or sends me an willing and industrious illustrator, I will re-vamp it as a children’s story. Pigs might fly.
As you read you may detect that Ethan is keen on ice-cream and sweets, items he gets only very infrequently. Think healthy eating, think fruit!