Poetry day with Hay Pimary School by Corinne Harris (HWC Chair)

On July the 7th we had a very successful and enjoyable session with the delightful students in Hay Primary School. In the morning we had some students from years 3,4,5 and 6 for a poetry session. The theme was Home and Hiraeth, which the school had been working on all year.

We started off with a very brief discussion of what poetry was and whether it was important to always follow rules. The facilitators read some of their favourite poems. We then had an interactive session where we wrote words and phrases that reminded us of home and our communities on A2 sheets which were then displayed around the classroom. We broke these down into the five senses, site, sound, smell, taste and touch. The students came up with some great words and ideas and enjoyed participating.

The next phase was working in smaller groups. Each group had a short discussion and we had some photos as starting points as well as the sheets we had just produced. The children then had 30 minutes to write, which they did most industriously. We then shared our work within our groups with the students reading out their poems. We were very impressed by the quality of the work. Most of them chose to rhyme their poetry and they did this very well. They seem to have a very good grasp of what poetry was and produced some excellent work. They also critiqued their classmates work sensitively and constructively.

In the afternoon we had a short session with years 1 and 2 who had a trip on a magic carpet. They produced some lovely pictures and travelled very adventurously.

Finally, we had the morning group back so that they could share their work with the whole group. Nearly all the students wanted to read their work to the others. They also gave us some very useful feedback with some helpful suggestions. They enjoyed the session and were enthusiastic about having another one.

We were very impressed with how engaged the children were and how well behaved and polite they were. It was an absolute joy to work with them. We’re hoping that we will be able to display some of their work in the library.

It was a privilege to work with the students in this excellent school. Many thanks to Mr Griffiths for facilitating this and to the lovely teaching assistant who helped us all day. We have arranged another session in September and are looking forward to it.

Richard Booth Prize 2026, Competition Update

Thank you to everyone who entered our Richard Booth Prize for Non-Fiction Competition 2026. All submissions have been sent to our judge, the wonderful Ruth Pavey, and we look forward to announcing the results very soon.

Recent Writing Starter

At our latest Zoom meeting, Corinne Harris set our writing “starter”. A “starter” is something we use to get our minds thinking on a theme and get our pens moving.

Starter: Inspired by the excellent responses by the pupils at Hay Primary School on Home / Hiraeth. Think about a sense of “Home”. It could be a family, a house, a town or a country etc. What makes this “Home” for you? Write about it including descriptions using your five senses – sight, sound, taste, touch, smell. Write for at least 20 minutes on this subject.

The following are initial responses to the above starter from HWC members, Sam Ashton, Nick Thomas and Corinne Harris.

HOME by Sam Ashton

What’s to think of home? I’ve lived longer here than anywhere else in my whole life. That’s twenty years in Longtown and almost forty five years in Herefordshire for Sarah and I; that’s more than half my life.

But other places do niggle at me. Broad sweeps of Wiltshire downland filled the childhood years. O yes, I could still call the Pewsey Vale and Savernake Forest home for they touch the heart. Where else? Where else touches the heart saying “This is not just a place to live, it is for the spirit to be.”

Where else? It has to be Australia. Could it be Tarves way out in western Queensland with that magical billabong and long days on a horse. Could it be Tumbarumba in the foothills of the Snowy mountains? Such marvellous birds. Either or both for they have touched the spirit leaving an imprint far beyond the post code.

That’s it! That’s home where the spirit finds fulfilment alone or in the company of those most dear to me. Yes, love fulfils this dear home in Longtown. The spirit finds fulfilment in The Black Mountains, the Olchon Brook, the river Monnow. The body finds rest in a dear, gentle house that has more unwritten history than a dozen generations.

Home is not an address, it is an embrace.

HOME by Nick Thomas

Home is where the heart is. Well at least that was the case the weekend just gone. This was because it was a significant birthday for my wife, Janet.

All of our close family arrived, including Elba the dog.

The furthest to travel came up from Falmouth, a grandson studying at university there. He surprised us, no amazed us all, by saying he had bought a boat to live in for next term moored in the river!

Arriving on Friday night from London where she works as an assistant psychologist working in trauma care, was his sister, to help making beds et cetera.

There were ten in all plus dog, four from Bristol and two from Totnes. The youngest, a fourteen-year-old grandson from Bristol, had learned a beautiful classical piece to play on the piano for his grandma who cried when she heard it.

Such larks were had, after food and catching up and presents being given we headed off to a local restaurant where they put us in an area normally reserved for private parties which was both kind and wise for we became quite noisy as the evening wore on. A daughter-in-law had arranged an interesting quiz based upon Janet which was great fun, I should have won but don’t think that I did. We came home and to my surprise they held the disco in the room in which I’m now sitting.Fun was had by all with the Labrador striding purposefully between the dancers all evening.

The point of this diary of events is to try to show the layer upon layer of emotion and goodwill in a family in a home where our boys grew up. The following day they all left and there were happy tears from grandma who is still on a high.

In summary, we had the taste of fine food and drink.

The sounds of laughter and music.

The smell of a dog in the store room where she slept.

The sight of a beautiful communal picture containing flowers produced by the Bristolians.

And the touch of many embraces.

All in all pretty damn good.

HOME by Corinne Harris

When I retired, I bought this house and tried to make it just right for me. It feels like I’ve succeeded. Home is a feeling for me. It’s a feeling of great comfort. It’s the feeling I get coming in from a very wet walk, taking off my soggy boots and soggy socks and putting on a lovely pair of dry socks – bliss. Home is the sound of the stream and the bleating of sheep on the hillside. It’s the song of birds and the hoot of the owl from the churchyard at night. It’s the flight of bats from under my eaves and the soaring of red kites over the hillside. It’s the flood of light from my glass extension on a miserable February morning. It’s the warmth that greets me on a cold day when I open my front door to come in. Home is my grandchildren playing in the garden, excited as only city children can be by grass and flowers and the garden hose. It’s the sand from their sandpit all over the house. It’s chocolate on the arms of the chairs and Cheerios on the floor. Home is the pop-up pub in the village hall, neighbours and quizzes and raffles and wholesome fun – apart from all the alcohol. Home is my neighbours, it’s the crackle of fire in the chiminea on a chilly spring evening, it’s the taste of wine and the chatter of convivial gossip. Home is the smell of wood smoke in the in the winter and the heady scent of lilac in spring. Home is the honeysuckle on my porch and the buzz of the bumblebees plumbing its depths. Home is a luxurious stretch out under the duvet knowing that I don’t have to get up. Home is market day in Hay. Home is the book club and the writing group and the lovely people I meet in Citizens Advice. Hope is potting and chatting in Cup and coming home covered in clay. Home is my cat’s soft fur and purr. Home is the river – so beautiful in all seasons. Home is country walks. Home is sloe gathering and the rich tint of sloe gin. Home is trawling for books in all the book shops and trying not to spend too much in the deli. Home is the pool in the Baskerville arms at 7:00 in the morning, the smell of the water and the silky feel as I slide into its cool depths. Home in short is pretty damn good – well worth the council tax and the hassles with the bin men. Home is somewhere I feel so lucky to have.

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