This is a fictional account of a real incident involving the WW2 Submarine HMS Sybil.
From what we know about my father, Ordinary Submariner Jack Bonthron, he must have been aboard.
Like many who survived WW2 my father found it difficult to talk of his experiences but, as he got older, they did dribble out, piecemeal.
He did mention to me that most of what the Sybil did was drop off and pick up spies. The phrases “Black Ops or Special Ops” were not mentioned.
This story is accompanied by another piece called “An Ordinary Submariner” which gives some ‘factual’ information about Jack Bonthron’s War.
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At The Writers’ Circus we were asked to write about “a Dream”.
Louisa, our oldest member, normally writes poetry, very brilliantly!
Tragically Louisa lost her husband prematurely to asbestosis.
She wrote a piece called “Home”, a very poignant short story.
For our next assignment we were tasked to write a “sequel” to one of these stories.
Assignments were allocated by lot: I was lucky enough to choose “Home”.
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This is a tale about elderly men trout fishing on the Island of North Uist.
I have hoped to catch the Hebridean ‘lilt’ in my words.
It is suitable for older children of all ages.
It complements another tale called “Murphy’s Midnight Manuevers” about two dogs.
If you find yourself on North Uist do try “Langass Lodge” for excellent food and comfortable friendly accommodation.
Click here to download the PDF.
This is a simple tale of a Labrador called Murphy.
Murphy is led astray, by another dog called The Corgi, who is his brother.
It is set on the Island of North Uist, where I go fishing each June.
It complements another different tale, also set on North Uist, called “Three Men and a Minnow”.
Both stories are suitable for children of all ages.
I unreservedly recommend “Langass Lodge” as the place to stay/eat, if you are in this area.
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This a classic People’s Friend type short story.
I still love it! It makes me feeling ‘gooey’
Go on, try it!
It’s only a ten minute read!
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This is a further revised version of the original Trumped story.
The original was crafted long before we have been plagued by the man who has dominated the headlines over the last decade.
It is a romance, set in Glasgow of the late 1950s.
Louisa at our Writers’ Circus set us the challenge of “Betrayal”.
The idea of setting this story against a background of Greyhound Racing came at once. My Dad was a weekend gambler, not addicted, but he did enjoy Friday nights at Shawfield Stadium, which still exists as a Greyhound Racing venue.
The ambiance I am trying for is post-war Glasgow, seeking to contrast the gulf between the lives of rich (living in the grand mansions of Pollokshields) and poor (living in the Oatlands district, where my Dad was born).
I have re-formatted it and re-edited the original using Read Aloud in Word. If you a typo or logic error, please forgive, make your best judgement and read on.
Thank you Kareth for editing the original version all those years ago.
This is a re-working of a previous story. ‘Re-working’ is a dangerous thing!
This version is steamier, and contains a few naughty words, so be warned!
Its genesis was a combination of two encounters.
The first was in the wake of the second Icelandic Volcanic Ash airline disruption.
Ryanair cancelled our flight.We were stranded in Bordeaux.
Irina at Customer Services was charming, beautiful and efficient.
I promised her a story!
The second encounter was on the early morning commuter train from Bearsden to Glasgow.
Our friends Ian and Linda overheard a lady asking for a First Class Ticket to Copenhagen.
I did read a short clip of 50 Shades, in Asda, at the bookstand.
I am confident that my offering is better, much better, I modestly declaim.
And I read an excerpt of Kirtsy Wark’s steamy novel, courtesy of the (Glasgow) Herald.
Unlike the critics I thought the sex scene was very well written.
What disturbed me was that I thought I knew Kirsty, from our intermittent ‘meetings’ on TV.
So before you read this, if you know me, think of someone else.
Think of the author as, say, Gina Bontroni.
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I was listening to the radio in our caravan at Rosemarkie.
The Beatles sang “Get Back, Get Back, Get Back to where you once belonged”.
The history of humanity is one of migration.
Think of all the Scots roaming the world over the last three centuries.
This sad tale wrote itself in less than thirty minutes.
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This tale has it’s origins in an assignment for one of David Pettigrew’s Creative Writing Classes.
The given topic was “Sibling Rivalry”.
This is a revised and expanded version of the original.
My friend Mana is correct. If I ‘edit’ my work, it expands, never shrinks!
The CURSE of loquaciousness. (Try saying that word with wobbly dentures.)
This is an adult story.
I offer my apologies here to all my Italian friends.
(2,300 words, 11 minutes)
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We were on holiday, in Rosemarkie, with our caravan.
Whizzing along in our car one day, I saw a sign advertising a “Car Share Club”.
I started to write this piece, with no idea what would come from the Muse.
This is a piece which has drawn criticism.
It contains dark material.
I defend myself by pointing readers to the nightly news.
In my mind, however, this story is a ‘true romance’, albeit involving strange bedfellows.
I spotted some anomalies and revised it in February 2016.
Click here to download the PDF.