Hello - Welcome to Tuam Creative Writers'

The Tuam Pen Club, that has now been expanded and rebranded as Tuam Creative Writers, attracted a wide range of people both men and women, young and old, workers, carers, immigrants and retired people.

Like the population in general we brought a wide range of experience to the club, enjoyed a variety of hobbies and pastimes and drew on our memories of home life as well as of travel and exile.

The common denominator was a desire to write and, in the process, to recall and remember, to make sense of our experiences while at the same time developing an appropriate style. We are ordinary people trying to do something extraordinary.

"Enjoy reading some of our recent work."

I talk to myself

I Talk To Myself all the time in the language of solace.  When the seasons come to the meadows and I note the beauty of

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Summer

The fluty notes of the birds in Summer shock me while I eavesdrop in the garden on one of those mornings when courage unfolds from

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Mick

It was a typical autumn day, early September 1987,quite windy but good sunshine to ripen the oats in the far field. Paul and Peggy had

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Climate Change

It was a Sunday in early February 1990. The access road to our house has a drain running on one side. This drain had burst

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To Coming Times

    And when the good times return again we’ll meet for a beer or a well-made coffee. We’ll visit the old shops and try

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Tyto Alba (Barn Owl)

  Out of nowhere you appear silent, shy predator of the night top of the food chain it is claimed. You are everything I don’t

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Fireside Adventurer

Agony Aunts are inundated weekly with requests for help breaking up with lovers and friends, in particular women worrying about how best to break up

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Riding the Rails

The provision of public transport is one of the keystones of government policy.  This despite the fact that public transport is generally a loss-making enterprise.

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WE ?

A politician rose to the podium and said,  “great work,   WE  did it, WE flattened the curve”,  as in the Covid-19 infections peaks and troughs.  

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JUST LIKE THAT

JUST LIKE THAT In many respects he was not a nice man. He was a chronic alcoholic, an unfaithful husband, a wife batterer and, for

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With Orwell, footing turf

I pray for rain to drive us from the bogand for the sun to come out againin time for games of gloryon a neighbour’s sloping field.But the sun beats

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THE COUGHMAN

    Our father’s Hillman takes up our whole garage so we can’t put on a play, or have a Beano and Bunty comic sale

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