11/03/2026
Yesterday our Tayonline Creative Writing Group visited McManus Gallery Curtain Call exhibition for our final sharing event. Over the course of the 8 sessions, Sandra Ireland our great lead artist sets weekly themes such as Soundtracks and Voices , Heritage, Landscapes and places, with A Toast to this place. We invited photographer Lydia Smith to join the group as a guest Artist and we chatted with her about her practice as the photographer for Curtain Call Exhibition Poster and her work with STOP Photography group. Lovely to visit the exhibition and meet those who could travel to meet face to face. The group will receive a newsletter of their creative writing and we were delighted to welcome a few new members to the group. Below snap shot of some of groups writings.
The Old Fisherman
For as long as I've lived on this island, the old fisherman has been here. He wanders through the streets by day, dressed as if he is going to sea to haul aboard heavy nets full of fish. If you want to find him after a certain time, you don't have to look far. He sits in the oldest pub in town, the same seat every evening, sipping his whisky. The flames of the open fire catch the blue of his eyes, so incredibly blue, a contrast to the wiry mottled beard sitting upon his chest.
The visiting tourists gather around him as he tells the story of the selkie and his maiden. The chance meeting, their love and devotion thwarted by the will of the sea and land. But love conquers all, and the maiden and the selkie found a way to be together, a seal coat, worn by the maiden, ensuring the longevity of their love. Some of the travellers scoff at his story, others sceptical but wishful. The more romantic sit and long for a love so strong.
ANDREA
The South Inch
Birds flock to my arm, alighting gently on my fingers and my wrist. I hope suddenly that their little feet won’t damage my most recent tattoo. The pigeons are hungry and their talons are sharp. They are excited and they dance. Hairline scratches appear on my skin, but I don’t worry. I am lost in the wonderful moment. My arm provides a safe landing spot for several iridescent birds. Their necks flash metallic purple and green, a beauty often overlooked by most people, who compare these timid creatures to vermin. I am in heaven. Their gentle weight on my arm fills me with love and I feel privileged to be able to nourish them for a while.
WENDY
A Toast to Iona
Crossing the water on the Iona ferry makes you feel
you’re coming home.
Iona sounds of the waves
on the sand and a welcome.
Iona smells like seaweed and fresh winds.
EVELYN
A TOAST TO NEIL
I couldn’t watch your slide show as it played your favourite song,
And I still shake my head that you were taken far too young.
But I will always keep the fun times that we had-
tournaments in Holland, cricket and laughs of which I’m glad.
So I know he would want us to keep on smiling,
and to keep our football team going and to keep on trying.
STEVEN
Just for today
What do I want to say?
Where are the words?
Rain on my window,
Yellow-grey sky.
Skeletal branches are still.
My mind, yellow-grey.
My thoughts, skeletal.
Tunnels ferreting back
Through my mind.
Channels of unshed tears
Sit in my stomach.
Is it sadness, grief, loss?
Or is it just enough.
Enough of being who I am
Just for today.
VALENTINE
Queen Mary’s Toast
Of all the places I have known
My heart’s been left behind and grown
Into an oak tree from a tiny acorn
For the love of Falkland Palace.
From the smell of a casket lined with moss
To the creaks and groans of a sailing ship tossed
Wildly upon the oceans afar,
Pulling hard on the strings of my heavy heart, crushed.
So drink, and farewell childhood Palace dear
Home to solacing nook and crevice. With tears
I look forward to one day return anew
With saviour France-bound men of my sailing ship crew.
FIONA
A visit up north to see my sister
Is sure to include visits to charity shops.
I found a beautiful brooch
It sparkles with white and turquoise stones
It was only bought for pennies. I wear it often on my coat or dress
With lots of compliments for that penny brooch
A bonnet of tweed with a feather light on the side
A jacket of pink and purple threads
A skirt of mixed colour tweedy patterns
Our silk stockings are shades of mushroom
And soft leather shoes in in sandy brown
ATHENE
Hark!
Slow crow,
low crow,
Go, go, go crow,
Fly away before the fall
soon the midnight bells will call.
Walking, walking, walking blind,
one second out of time.
Hark! They are crying out our names!
Where do we go crow?
We are growing old crow.
Feather stab into my arms,
Yet still I have no flight.
Why do you not fly, crow?
Your little body is shivering.
Is winter already here?
I want to hear your song again,
the one that kept them all away;
kept us safe.
Let's go back to spring,
I want to live again
It grows dark, so very cold;
didn't notice the skies turn grey,
although life is harsh this way.
Another feather falls,
flies far away on blistering winds
ELISHEVA
Tayonline will be back with summer programme dates very soon. Supported by Creative Scotland, NHS Tayside Charitable Foundation,The Gannochy Trust, NHS Tayside DHSCP, and THAT.
