Our October 2024 AGM brought a few changes to our Hay Writers’ Circle Committee. For the last two years Chairperson, Katharine Stones has steadfastly guided us. She has enabled the group to modernise, thrive and write well, and our current capacity membership is a testament to her hard work. Katy has bolstered our artistic confidence too, with regular writing workshops from guest authors and academics, as well as embracing new opportunities as they have arose.

As Katy steps back from being Chairperson, we extend our heartfelt gratitude for her years of hard work and service to the group.

Also stepping down this year is Lily Rose King, who has been our Competitions Secretary for the last two years. Lily has been an absolute asset in her role, with deft organisational skills collating all the paperwork, managing correspondence and communicating with judges for all 3 of our yearly competitions. Each year our competitions have garnered more and more entries, and Lily has been absolutely fantastic. Thank you for all your hard work Lily.

Side stepping from her role as Treasurer, we welcome our newly elected Chairperson, Corinne Harris and wish her lots of good fortune and exciting opportunities over the coming years.

We also welcome Margaret Blake to the position of Competition’s Secretary and Martine Smith as Treasurer for Hay Writers’ Circle, wishing them both well in their new roles.

The other members of our committee remain the same with Helen Smith continuing in her role as Secretary, and Emma van Woerkom remaining as the Website and Social Media Manager.

More From The Richard Booth Prize for Non-Fiction 2024

Following on from our last article containing Dr Alwyn Marriage’s judge’s comments, coupled with the 1st and 2nd prize winning pieces, we are delighted to share the 3rd prize entry from Margaret Blake.

3rd Prize – The Awakening by Margaret Blake

My eyelids fluttered open to a sea-green haze above me. I was puzzled. How come I’m underwater? I blinked. My mind cleared. Not water, but canvas, fluttered above me. I was lying on my air mattress, looking up at the roof of the tent I shared with my sister. She was still fast asleep. I waited impatiently, but there was no sign of her stirring. I wriggled uncomfortably. ‘Nature’ was calling.

I slipped out of my sleeping bag, slid carefully to the doorway and, fretting at my inept fumblings, unlaced the fastenings. (No posh zips in those days; leisure camping in 1955 was still in its infancy.) I pulled my wellies on and stepped into the new day. It was light, but I had no idea of the time. It must be very early. No one else is up yet. I headed off to the earth closet across the field. I enjoyed the feel of the long, dew-wet grass swishing against my legs as I walked towards the distant cubicle. I wrinkled my nose as I approached the planked shed. No wonder we’ve pitched camp well away from it. On exiting, I headed for the rusty pump in the middle of the field. The metal struck cold on my hands, but I swung on its handle with all the weight my six-year-old body could manage. It creaked and groaned before suddenly rewarding me with a gurgle of cleansing, icy water.

I looked around. What shall I do next? I was wide awake by now and eager for the day to begin. I wandered across the field to the stony lane that led to the lake. On either side, green trees soared skyward, with a multitude of birds fluttering and twittering amongst their leafy branches. The stones crunched under my feet, the air felt soft on my face, and I relished my aloneness. Before long, I saw the lakeside restaurant ahead: a simple, low structure. Across the yard, a huge glass-fronted tank reared above me; I paused to pay homage to the fish swimming around inside. Snatched from the lake, I knew that they were destined for customers’ dinner plates. The poor things. My heart went out to them. A pair of eels swam into view, their bodies undulating with their movements. I shuddered. Too much like snakes for me! I turned and continued swiftly along the lane.

I rounded a bend, and there it was: my favourite lake. I approached its sandy shore and stood, marvelling at its vast expanse. A wooden jetty stretched out into the water. The hire boats, held captive for the night with chains, bobbed peaceably on the rippling waters. Maybe, if I ask nicely, dad will take me sailing again today. I always thrilled to feel the movement of the boat through the water, the sound of little wavelets splashing against its side, and the wind blowing on my face. Most of all, I enjoyed those special moments with my father. Just him and me – no siblings wanting attention, no mother fretting over me. I loved it.

I strolled along the jetty, my wellie-clad feet sounding heavy on the rough planks. Still, no one was in sight. The world was mine alone. I smiled to myself as shoals of minnows, disturbed by the noise, darted out on either side of me. I moved slowly but, eventually, reached the end of the jetty. Now what? There’s nowhere else to go. I sat down, swinging my legs above the clear water, idly watching the fish below.

Gradually, I became aware of a subtle change in the light and looked up. First a shimmer, then a silvery glow, spread across the horizon. I watched entranced. I had never seen anything like it before. The sky became multi-coloured; red, orange, and yellow hues danced across the scene before me. As I watched, these were all subsumed into one glorious light as the sun appeared over the distant skyline. As it rose higher, increasing in size, it spilt rays of liquid gold across the surface of the lake. As they reached me, I felt warmth soak into my body. Stillness surrounded me. I felt at one with nature. Creation claimed me as one of its own.

I have no idea how long I sat there bewitched by the scene. Time seemed to still its relentless ticking. At length, however, my stomach reminded me of more mundane matters. Breakfast would be good. Even now, no one else was in sight. I wandered slowly back down the jetty, along the lane, and into the campsite, hugging that treasured moment to myself.

As I approached our little cluster of tents, my mother emerged from the tent next to mine. She gave me a surprised look. “What are you doing up so early?” I greeted her with a smile and mumbled something about needing to go to the toilet. I said nothing about my experience. It was far too precious to share with anyone else. While the world slept, I had encountered the beauty of the universe. It was a golden nugget I would treasure within me for the rest of my life.

I had experienced a great awakening. Creation spirituality had entered my soul. It would never leave me.

Coming Soon …

Details of our Short Story Competition!

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