Wrexham Write Now!

  "Rule number 888 states about unforeseen circumstances, I don't know if it means pig swill but it was definitely unforeseen!" read Chalky.

  "Come on everyone take your seats and let the tournament begin."

  "On my right, I have The Robins and on my left I have the not so baby Red Dragons," declared Bugle Bee.

  "Come on you Reds!" cheered half the crowd.

  The teams picked up the rope, and just as they took up the slack, there was an almighty cry from the Castle.

  "Help, Help!" screeched Lady Jelly Belly Jiles. Her ladyship came running from castle, which was the opposite direction Dr. Bumble had run. She was galloping so fast that her slipper got caught in the hem of her gown. She lost her balance and Fluffy her toy poodle went from under her arm to flying in the air and her ladyship landed bum first into the flowers along the drive. Picking herself up and collecting Fluffy who landed safely on a bush, they managed to get to Queenie in one piece, but minus a slipper.

  "Jellamena, what on earth is wrong?" queried Queenie.

  "Oh dashing dastardly balderdash, there's been a robbery of ginormous proportions!" she said whilst picking the rose petals out of her hair.

  "What now? I thought we'd had enough drama for one day," sighed Queenie.

  "The 'Y Beibl Bach' has been stolen!" declared Lady Jelly Belly Jiles. "I went in to say my prayers and it had gone. Oh my giddy aunt, I can feel one of my turns coming on," cried her ladyship covering her forehead with the back of her hand.

  "Squiffy mead-filled men and a robbery are one thing, but one of her ladyship's turns would be enough to push me over the edge." thought Queenie. "It's too late to ask Vonnybee to help, she will have gone by now," said Queenie.

  "I thought you might be needing my services a little while longer," said Vonnybee stepping through the crowd. "Dr. Bumble do you have the results from the shoes please?"

  "Why yes ma'am, but I am a tad confused, because the results show everyone's shoes had pollen on them. Because everyone followed Queenie who followed me through the wildflower meadow," said Dr. Bumble.

  "Everyone?" asked Vonnybee.

  "Yes everyone, oh except Beefy Bee the butcher's delivery lad. He was sorting out the Hog Roast."

  "Present yourself Beefy Bee," demanded Queenie on Vonnybee's instructions.

  Beefy Bee appeared from the jousting arena, hog fat dripping from his apron. "I was here tending to the hog your ladyship," said Beefy Bee.

  "Is that a dollop of hog roast hanging from your beard?" questioned Vonnybee.

  "Yes, it's delicious. I do like a little bit of roasted pig now and again," he slurred, licking his fingers.

  In a slow, silent movement Vonnybee left her chair and edged to where Beefy Bee was standing. "Beefy, do you not know that bees are vegetarians and that they do not eat meat? However I do know who does eat meat," she said. With that, she leapt forward to grab the belt of his apron.

  Before anyone could move, Beefy jumped up onto the rotating spit carrying the hog, ripped off the apron and beard to reveal to the crowd: "Tiz I, zee great master of dizguize. Ze great Wasssa Ze Wasp." Grabbing the apple from the hog's mouth he sneered. "Ha, HA, HA! You may have outwitted me zis time but it won't be long til zis is mine, ALL MINE! Bon Appetite Vonnybee," he shouted as he took a bite from the apple, and in a puff of smoke he was gone.

  "Where has he gone?" enquired Chalky.

  "Never mind where he's gone, where's the 'Y Beibl Bach' gone?" screeched Her Ladyship.

  "It hasn't gone far," assured Vonnybee.

  "Could you please explain to us common folk what you mean?" asked Dr. Bumble.

  "Bamby do you remember that you heard my hum this morning and then it went away?" questioned Vonnybee.

  "Yes," said a puzzled Bamby

  "That's because en route to the Knights' medieval tent, I went for a quick fly around the Castle. I do so love a visit to Chirk Castle. Once I got into the tent and smelt the Honey Mead Beer, I put two and two together and solved the crime."

  "I'm still not getting it," said Dr. Bumble.

  "You see, getting the lads squiffy by fooling them that they were drinking an energy drink was just a decoy so that Wassa the Wasp could get into the castle and steal 'Y Beibl Bach', undisturbed. However, he hadn't planned on her ladyship taking her mid morning nap," said Vonnybee. "I bet you scared Wassa; he must have thought you were the famous ghost of Chirk Castle," chuckled Vonnybee.

  "Ahh!" said Dr. Bumble, "so if I'm not mistaken, you knew that one person's shoes wouldn't have pollen on because they never came over...they went into the Castle instead?" said the good doctor.

  "Exactly," said Vonnybee.

  "Aren't we all still forgetting something?" cried Her Ladyship. "There's still no sign of 'Y Beible Bach'."

  "If you go to the King's Cabinet you will notice tiny speckles of Honey Mead on the floor. I'm sure what you're looking for will be safely inside the cabinet. Or my name isn't Vonnybee."

  "And now to more important matters, don't we have a tug of war to be had?" asked Vonnybee. "Don't forget boys, slow and steady wins the race."

  The crowd cheered, the sun shone and the competition finally got underway.

  In the distance high above the crowd, balanced on magnificent Chirk Castle gates, a voice whispered, "Nos da cariad. Till vee meet again mon ch?ri?"

  By Yvonne Matthews

  Merseyside

  @vonnybee

  The Wrexham Dragon

  The Wrexham Dragon is green and red.

  It watches the town as you sleep in your bed.

  His wings spread the darkness and cover of night.

  His flames make the stars that twinkle so bright.

  The Wrexham Dragon looks after us all.

  But you won't ever see him, he's ever so small.

  By Jude Lennon

  Merseyside

  www.littlelambpublishing.co.uk

  facebook.com/JudeLennonAuthor

  @JudeLennonBooks

  NoDim the Friendly Dragon

  On the outskirts of the little Welsh town called Wrexham, in the beautiful Welsh valley, lives a very old and friendly dragon. He is so old that all of his teeth have fallen out and his scales have fallen off. From his gummy mouth he can no longer belch streams of fire, just the occasional puff of smoke.

  As he doesn't have any teeth, he only eats vegetables. Carrots are his favourite. He eats lots of them and their orange colouring has changed his natural red colour to a deep golden red.

  This dragon is called Bob, but because he is clumsy, he would often hear people shout "Dim Draig, Dim" or "NO Dragon, No" in English. Over the years, people started calling him NoDim Draig, which is the name everybody uses today.

  One sunny day, dressed in his favourite clothes, a striped circus tent with bright colours, NoDim was quietly flying to his favourite carrot field in Holt. As with most of his meal time flights, he had to work extra hard as the local birds just loved to sit on him and chatter away. Dozens of brown sparrows perched on his wings, black starlings lined up on his tail and yellow finches loved to nest in his ears.

  Each bird always took the time to say hello and ask how NoDim was, before telling him how wonderfully warm their nests and eggs were. NoDim didn't really mind, but sometimes he wished they would flap their wings to help him out.

  As NoDim flew over Overton-on-Dee, he saw old Farmer Jones in his cabbage field. He was bent over and was rubbing his back with both his hands. NoDim thought he was pretending to be a chicken as he walked back towards his small red tractor. Slightly amused, NoDim decided to pay Farmer Jones a visit and swooped down into his field. As he landed beside the tractor, the little birds that he had carried decided to look for grubs on Farmer Jones' cabbages. As they hunted for the grubs, their tweets and chirps filled the air with excitement.

  "Ow! Oh my poor back," he said as he rubbed it. "I have been harvesting cabbages all morning, NoDim, and I am not as young as I once was. Oh! What will I do? I cannot even get onto my
tractor."

  NoDim, being helpful in nature, looked at Farmer Jones. He tilted his head one way and then the other. Stretching his long neck over Farmer Jones, he looked from the other side and then upside down. He gently took Farmer Jones in his gummy jaws and NoDim chomped him around in his toothless mouth.

  'No Draig, no!' the farmer shouted.

  Then with a loud "ooh" from Farmer Jones, as his back made a loud cracking sound, NoDim stepped back.

  Old Farmer Jones was standing straight again. He looked at NoDim with a surprised look on his face as he twisted and patted around his back with his hands. After he stretched up and bent over several times he admitted, "My back hasn't felt this good in years, NoDim. Thank you,' he said smiling at the dragon. "Now I can carry on harvesting my cabbages."

  Farmer Jones danced around on the spot and was so happy that he offered NoDim as many cabbages as he could eat from his field.

  Phil Burrows

  Wrexham

  www.pnburrows.com

  @pnburrows

  What's in a Name?

  Who is Wrexham;

  A wreath, a wife, a river-meadow, a dynasty

  A place in the shadow of Wrekin Hill

  An old English word re-worked?

  Her streets lead over bridges, past white houses, through

  Fair fields, past courts and gardens, beyond the colliery, to the brow of the hill,

  Along wide green banks and rivulets.

  Her paths stretch through oak-thick valleys and over ridges, down new roads and through old places, grey ways named for living trees

  Growing oaks and maples, chestnuts and elm.

  Some roads lead to the wilds of Wales and some roads lead to hope.

  There is history here, while ghosts of the old times

  remain with Watt's way and more time-lost names

  or tease memories of when

  There were no streets and the town had no name

  To when hawthorns and pines greeted the wanderers

  Who first hunted and gathered

  where Wrexham

  would be born.

  by Rhian Waller

  The Steel Man

  I feel a rush of excitement as I open my diary to the date of 3rd April 2016. I write down 'Gwersyllt Community Centre.' I grew up a five minute walk from this venue, having left Wrexham over 30 years ago to pursue a career in advertising. This will be my first visit back to the Centre.

  As I picture the place in my mind, a warm sense of nostalgia washes over me. It is not the type of nostalgia that merely brings forth a picture in the mind; it is much more powerful and vivid than that, bringing forth strong feelings deep enough to evoke smells and emotions.

  This wash of nostalgia brings with it a particular memory which hits me hard. Why this memory has come back so strongly I do not know. I remember vividly as a child lying in bed on warm summer evenings with my window open. The window was not left open because of the heat of the summer, I would open it so I could listen to distant sounds. I listened to the voices as they walked down the street. I listened to the laughing of people coming back from 'The Sheaf' or the Gwersyllt Club and to the sounds of cars driving past. As the night came to a close, the voices became less frequent and no more cars were heard. The sounds that were near, stopped and everything was quiet. I would then hear the distant sounds from Brymbo Steelworks. I remember feeling small and weak as I lay in my bed, often worrying about what the next day would bring. I would force myself to stay awake as long as I could, listening to the sounds of the forged steel that would be carried across the air of quiet nights. These sounds were my connection to my father who would be working through the night. I missed him when he wasn't home. When the sounds connected me to my father, it no longer mattered that I was small, weak, worried and anxious because my father was kind and strong; he loved me, he would always look after me and he was my castle.

  As I listened to the Steelworks in the distance, I imagined him grafting hard in the sweltering heat; sweat running like wild rivers down his arms which were as strong as the steel he forged. To me, my father was created from the product he made. His arms were indestructible girders, his hands were like huge ingots waiting to be used and his muscles were the strongest, tense steel cables imaginable. Thoughts of my father's physical strength provided the security I needed to allow me to stop worrying and soon tiredness would take over. I could fall asleep safely. As my eyes grew heavy, I knew that once I awoke, my father would be home and even though I would have to be quiet all day so that he could sleep and I would not see him until the afternoon, it did not matter because he would be home and I would be safe again.

  My father never once grumbled or complained. His job entailed hard work and through this, he provided for us. He only ever wore a smile on his face; a tired smile, but a smile nonetheless. He was proud to be a steel worker. Steel workers were a band of brothers; a band of hard-working, tough kind of brothers who looked after each other and their families well.

  As my nostalgic thoughts fade away, I find myself thinking of my father again and decide to visit him to inform him of the book to be edited at Gwersyllt Community Centre. I share with him my thoughts as a child and how he made me feel safe.

  I leave him sitting in his greenhouse, tired and weak, broken from the years of hard, painful, sweltering toil. I leave him sitting on a chair with the greenhouse door open, listening to passing cars. He is waiting for the sound of his friend's car. He is trying to stay awake.

  As I drive away, I will not picture him as he is now; his arms no longer made from steel but frail, rusted tin, tainted with burgundy and brown coloured bruises collected from the lightest of knocks from cupboard doors and walls. I will not picture him worried with tired eyes. I will not picture him waiting and listening for sounds in the distance. I will not remember his hands shaking whilst holding his tea. I shall picture him as the proud, strong, hard-working, caring steel worker who raised me and protected me. He deserves that memory. He worked hard for it. I can say with hand on heart that I am proud to have a father that is and always will be a man of steel.

  By Viv Griffiths

  Wrexham

  @vivauthor1

  Tidy, la!

  I walked the streets of King and Brown

  Looking for memories

  From this border town .

  Passing the Centre where Eagles rest

  I came across

  The Wynnstay nest.

  I followed the crowd to the old Queen's Square

  Where pigeons and buskers

  Competed for share.

  The latte was hot in the Nero caff?

  And I watched all the locals

  Getting on with their day.

  I mosied and nosied my way through the town.

  I tipped The Big Issue

  With a couple of pounds

  'Y'all right?" he called out,

  And I offered a smile.

  Off to the bettors, I thought, no doubt.

  Raising my head to the Tower so high

  I admired St Giles

  And its medieval ties.

  Heading on through the Island so Green

  I jockeyed and jimmied

  With shoppers too keen.

  I set off to the General to catch the next train

  But cries from the Racecourse

  Meant my trip was detained.

  'It's the Derby,' I'm told as the supporters spilled out

  The streets were alive

  With some colourful shouts.

  I take a diversion to Elihu Yale

  The pub that so wisely

  Stocks good, local ale.

  I sip on my pint and ponder my day

  In Wrexham, North Wales:

  'Tidy, la,' I say.

  By Susan Miller

  Flintshire

  www.allwordsmatter.co.uk

  facebook.com/allwordsmatterpublishingsupport

  @allwordsmatter

  Chocolate Empowe
rment

  Having been asked to do a talk to the Women's Institute group in Wrexham known as League of Extraordinary Women, at St John's Church Hall, Borras, Wrexham, I then had to ask myself, 'talk about what exactly?' They didn't have an agenda, I had free reign and I then had to have a think about this and tune into my awareness about this event.

  I thought about the time of year, a few days before Easter. What do women love? And then there were the thoughts, 'What do I know and what can these women hear from me?' Also, what am I willing to receive from this audience of WI goddesses?

  Putting all these things together, what popped for me was chocolate. Chocolate, chocolate, chocolate. Hmmm, how would chocolate create a class for these ladies? My business, Deva Empowerment, also popped into my head and then it came to me ? Chocolate! As a vehicle to show these ladies how they could empower themselves, and the name for the talk was born.

  As the ladies arrived, it became obvious to me that the majority had no idea what they had turned up for. Chocolate Empowerment hardly gave anything away as a title for a talk. That's cool, I thought. One lady thought I was going to talk about cupcakes and then there were some new members for whom the whole event was completely new. My aim for the talk became one of fun, laughter and joy. In my world there is nothing more empowering and potent than fun, laughter and joy.

  I set up my table with dishes of different chocolate, a buddha, a plant, some books and some raw chocolate ingredients. As I introduced myself, I joked that if I got bored of listening to me then there were plenty of things on the table that they could look at and I wouldn't judge them. 'Be my guest, zone out if that's what you require right now,' was what I offered.

  I started my talk by introducing myself, 'Hi, I'm Denise Oliver. My business, Deva Empowerment, is for all the goddesses who sense that their brilliance has been dimmed and who would love to reclaim that brilliance so that they can truly sparkle and shine in this world! What is Empowerment? From my point of view it's an enabling process and an inside job - heart, mind, body and soul.'

  As it's an inside job I began handing round the chocolate buttons starting with the white ones. I asked them to place one chocolate button in the palm of their hand, to look at it, then smell it before eventually tasting it and sending it on a journey into them. I suggested that if they spent time with all their food in this way that they may find themselves doing a lot less mindless eating.