Mary Medlicott, Storyteller and Author - Storyworks

Posts Tagged ‘Brockwell Park’

Echoes of Mary ~ the Swans

Saturday, July 30th, 2022

Swans, the story tells, bond for life. Mary through her Storyworks is somehow telling me that bond echoes on.

Taking a much needed constitutional yesterday in the almost cool of the evening in Brockwell Park I came upon the family of swans Mary and I have been following for several years. I’m delighted to be able to report in picture that this year seven cygnets are doing very well thank you.

A number of you Mary-Blog followers have said you like the idea of consolidating this remarkable storytelling resource. Please do advise on what  might be most useful and helpful.

Meanwhile, here’s a poem by Mary that we’re planning to include in due course in what might be titled: Echoes of Mary ~ the Book.


Sad Swan Serena

Swan Serena sailed the river, no-one knew how sad she felt,

Wanting, waiting, never finding, searching for a silver dress.

Until one moonlit night Serena, yearning for her heart’s desire,

Dipped her head towards the water, swans-neck curved in gracious ‘S’.

In the depths was something silver mirrored in the full moon’s light.

Serena wondered: what was she seeing? At first she simply couldn’t guess.

At last Serena knew the answer: she was looking at herself!

Clothed in moonbeams, shimmering, lovely, reflected was a swan princess.

Each night now when moonlight glimmers Serena meets her silver self,

Glides the silent, shining river, sadness changed to happiness.

Sail on, Serena, keep on searching in the water’s hidden depths.

One bright day when sun is shining you might find a golden dress.


Until soon dear Mary-Blog readers.

Storytelling Starters ~ Frog talk

Saturday, May 18th, 2019

Human minds! You see something, it reminds you of more. Since yesterday, it’s been frogs for me.

The frog in the park:


Going for a walk in Brockwell Park, all part of my recovery programme (and thanks to everyone for good wishes) we were greeted near the entrance by a very large wooden frog, arms endearingly outstretched towards us. Of course, this frog  brought back to my mind all kinds of stories (well, it would, wouldn’t it?).

One was of Lil who used to live down the road with her sister Sarah. Lil would call out to you on the street, ‘Ere, Missis Whatsisname?’ Then she’d follow up with something like, ‘Yer got no idea what ’er upstairs as gorn an done now.’ On one occasion she came to my door and quietly murmured, ‘Sarah says as can you come down and get the frog (frog as in frawg) outa the kitchen.’ Of course I went armed with rubber gloves and a bucket. I remember it well.

Then there’s the little frog folk-tale I used to tell.


Frog talk:


Storytelling Starters ~ Duck

Saturday, January 19th, 2013

On Thursday this week, there was ice. I went with my camera to Brockwell Park . The mid-day sun had turned the surface of the bigger pond into kaleidoscopes of sparkle and glitter. Ducks and Canada Geese and seagulls and moorhen were taking deliberate steps across the ice like little old men with sticks. Where ice had melted, they lowered themselves gingerly into the water and paddled about. When pieces of bread were thrown towards them – for several people arrived with bags of it – there’d be a sudden great flapping of wings and huge cacophonies of cawing as the birds rose up, chasing each other to the food.


‘Ducks,’ I was thinking. ‘Ducks …’ The image must have been stirring my thoughts. For when I was on my way home, my brain suddenly dived back to a snapshot image that I remembered from an old story. It was an image of one or two ducks turning head down, tail up, diving for something deep below the surface and bringing up beakfuls of mud.

Snapshots from stories can display a powerful tenacity, lingering in the sub-conscious for years until something happens to reanimate them. (This is, of course, one of the reasons why stories are so important to humans, feedings our brains, creating connections.) But what was this story with its image of ducks? (more…)