Storytelling Starters ~ August days
August days are times to relax, take your shoes off, go for a swim. They’re also times off for your mind, opportunities to notice things in a different kind of way, mull them over and allow the seeds of a story to sprout in your mind.
Years ago, Paul and I went on holiday to the isles of Mull and Iona. We were intrigued, on Mull, by the number of mail-boxes we passed. Again and again there they were on the road-side at the turn-off to farms and houses. Contraptions where the postman could leave people’s post, they came in different colours, shapes and sizes. Many looked like little houses. We couldn’t help noticing and commenting on them. In a flash, Mr Beaton existed.
The mail-box story
Mr Beaton lived in one of those boxes. Inside, his house was extremely well-ordered and cosy, although of course occasional disasters occurred when an unusually large or heavy letter crashed in. Mr Beaton loved putting his feet up at home, but he also loved going out. He’d slide down the pole on which his house had been built and off he’d go to visit a friend.
The mouse-mat tale
Then again there was the mouse-mat. Ever heard of it? You see, wherever there’s a bus-stop in London, there is also a mouse-mat stop. Humans don’t generally notice. Yet it exists. Just before a bus arrives, faster than the human eye can observe, the mouse-mat swoops down and the mouse-families who have been waiting at the edge of the pavement dash out, get on and are carried away. Same thing happens down on the tube. It’s a most efficient service, the idea of which arose on one occasion when my nephews came from Leeds on a visit. I suppose we’d been having to wait for a bus. They were quite young children at that time and this was an idea to distract them. But on subsequent visits, we’d return to the theme.
The searching dog
And what about that mongrel dog down on Abereiddi beach in North Pembs? At one time, it always seemed to be there, running back and fore at the edge of the tide. No-one appeared to know to whom it belonged.
Because I’d noticed it so often myself, I was intrigued when that dog got mentioned during a Storytelling Workshop on local legends that I once ran at Ysgol Dewi Sant in St David’s.
Suddenly, after the children had had the chance to mull things over in groups, a story about that dog was being told by one little group of girls.
According to the girls, there was once a man who adored Abereiddi. He especially loved swimming in the Blue Lagoon. (The Blue Lagoon is where stone was once quarried and where Red Bull now organises its Extreme Diving Competition.)
One time when the man dived into the still, deep waters, he found himself being sucked ever downwards. He never came back up alive. Nor was his body ever found. But a few days later, there on the beach was that dog, running back and fore as if searching.
Stories that furnish a mind
In the making, these sorts of stories are simple little things. They come out of nowhere. They divert and entertain. Yet they turn out to be stories that get mentioned again and again. In fact, they’re the kind of stories that furnish a mind.
Try it out. Take your shoes off. Let your mind go free. Allow yourself to notice things, mull over some of the things that you notice with others and suddenly, maybe, the seeds of a story are there.
It’s the stuff of August. It is to be treasured.
Tags: Abereiddi, August, Isle of Mull, mail-boxes, mouse-mat