Bridport’s ‘From Page to Screen’ film festival is a great annual event. Being so local means I can get into the atmosphere even if we only manage to go to a handful of events. This year’s chosen tasters turned out to be excellent choices (although I suspect if we’d gone to a different three I may be saying the same!) and last evening’s showing of Quartet was made all the more special with a Q&A session with producer Finola Dwyer. If you haven’t already seen it, look out for the interesting comparison with rap and opera.
Author Archives: Sally Beeson
Treasured recording
What a treat to hear my grandfather’s voice once more. I’ll be posting his story soon but tonight I have listened again to the tapes where he is reading his story of ‘The Long Walk’ and remembered with fondness his principled and gentle ways. Twenty-seven years since his death yet tonight it seems like he was with us only yesterday.
Read the foreword to The Long Walk
Storytelling Workshop
How exciting. I’ve just booked into the storytelling workshop with Shonaleigh at the Bridport Arts Centre on 1st June. Entitled ‘Stories of Myself – the Root of My Journey’, it’s perfect timing to coincide with my current ‘storycraft’ project with the Bees-on stories. Shonaleigh will also be performing at the next Story Café at Bridport on 31st May – should be a treat.
Hand-written and precious
I transcribed my grandfather’s story many years ago, some years after his death but whilst my father was still alive and able to help me make contact and share copies with close friends of my grandfather and near and distant family members. There is also a copy in Birmingham Library, lodged there by Carl Chinn who also kindly wrote a piece in the Birmingham Mail as part of its ‘Old Brum’ magazine features.
- Book and newspaper article
But it is in re-visiting my grandfather’s story now that I have once again picked up his hand-written notebooks and it’s like newly finding a lost precious object.
There are tapes too, where he recorded his story but those I will need to find a way to clean up. For now I want to spend time with his notebooks where he scribed his childhood memories and reflected on the wisdom of his years.
Bees-on Stories
There is a tale that my grandfather wrote about an event in his early life. It tells the story of a 120-mile journey, largely on foot, from Birmingham to Ealing that he made with his father. I’ll replicate the story on these pages but I want to join my grandfather on that voyage. Some parts of the journey I have already visited and one day I would like to walk in his steps but for now I’ll share his words.
An introduction, in my grandfather’s own words, can be read here.
Wooden Tony
I must find a copy of ‘Wooden Tony’ by Lucy Lane Clifford. This was the inspiration to tonight’s wonderful adaptation of ‘The Boy at the Edge of the Room’ presented by Forest Forge at Bridport Arts Centre. Written a long time before autism was diagnosed and around the same time as Pinochio, it tells the story of a boy who longs to retreat into a ‘life’ as a wooden puppet. Somewhat tense and reflective and yet very moving. Great to hear the writer in conversation afterwards too and to get an insight into his and the actors’ motivation.
Story-telling Café
Another wonderful evening at Bridport Arts Centre. I do so enjoy the story-telling café events. Each one has been so rich and varied. It’s almost impossible to make comparison. Last night was a fresh working of a silkie (or selkie) tale – a seal which sheds its skin to take on human form. Entitled ‘Under her Skin’, it was a beautiful crafting of fine words and music and so energetic. If you get the chance to see either Debs Newbold (storyteller) or Laurel Swift (musician) then do – their energies are contagious and heart-warming.
A new adventure
These entries are where I hope to weave some stories and essential threads of my live and the lives with which I come into contact.
There are some family stories I want to re-visit – my grandfather’s story of ‘the Long Walk’ and stories I have pieced together whilst researching my family history. And then there are the stories I loved as a child – well worth a fresh look – and new ones I have learnt to treasure in my adulthood. And still there are those special stories of what might have been or what could still be if only forgotten or misplaced threads can be re-found and re-worked.
So, here begins a new adventure of discovery through imaginings and reality. Bring it on.
It Begins
There is a long-held tradition amongst beekeepers to “tell it to the bees”. I’m a beekeeper and I can tell you that, sitting beside an active colony of bees, with a background of buzzing and the constant mesmeric note of the hive, there is no better place to form up one’s thoughts and reflect on the many aspects of life. I often talk to the bees, sometimes aloud, sometimes in my head. I tell them my news and of any upset and joy. And on those sad occasions when there is a death of someone close, I tell them … and one day, when it is my turn – long in the future I hope(!) – I trust someone will tell them of my passing.