Many writers have shared their thoughts with the public:

"There is something delicious about writing the first words of a story. You never quite know where they'll take you." - Beatrix Potter

"The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say." - Anaïs Nin

"Sharing your writing, being enlarged by others' writing, is what makes you feel famous." - Gretchen Bernabei

"Writing is not an amusing occupation. It is a combination of ditch-digging, mountain-climbing, treadmill and childbirth." - Edna Ferber

"Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing." - Ben Franklin

"One must be drenched in words, literally soaked in them, to have the right ones to form themselves into the proper pattern at the right moment." - Hart Crane

"There are three rules for writing. Unfortunately, no one can agree what they are." - W. Somerset Maugham

Incriminations

FROM: Reynolds Holt Solicitors
TO: Linda Galanis
SUBJECT: Galanis Pet Lawsuit

Hi Linda,
Please find attached the minutes subpoenaed from Tiloolby Bowls Club general meeting, conducted 5th October 2024.

The document contains substantial evidence for our case; however, our team is concerned about its viability in court given its unorthodox nature. It’s probably easier if you just read it.

We’ve received your email regarding concerns of jury tampering – our team agrees it’s suspicious that every jury member received discounted Tiloolby Bowls memberships.

We are looking further into the matter.

Kind Regards

Alexis Holt

In Attendance

Eileen Osbourne (President)
Harold Gelling (Vice President)
Ruth Yates (Treasurer)
Ahmed Bashar (Secretary)

Absent

Gloria Torres (Happy Hour Convenor)

Afternoon light filtered into the lounge of the Tiloolby Bowls Club. The distinguished committee members washed down their post-lunch meds with a bottle of Jack Daniels in preparation for another gruelling general meeting.

President Eileen planted herself at the head of the table and rolled a cigarette, ready for another day of browbeating her constituents.

She zeroed in on the Secretary. "Ahmed, what the hell are you typing? Your job is to take the minutes."

"I’m just setting the scene," Ahmed replied.

"This isn’t your bloody novel. Stick to transcript format."

Ahmed will partially ignore this in order to add zest to the minutes.

Ruth: How is your novel going Ahmed?

Ahmed: Fantastic Ruth, thank you for asking. I reached 150,000 words yesterday. So I’m about halfway through.

Eileen: God help you.

Eileen couldn’t fully grasp Ahmed’s literary triumph, seeing as she had the emotional capacity of a toenail, nor could she appreciate how masterfully Ahmed captures the human experience with such metaphor and poetic nuance. This must’ve been how Van Gogh felt.

Harold: What’s your book about again?

Ahmed: Time-travelling cows.

Eileen: Right, before we begin, do any committee members have motions they’d like to put forth?

Harold: Actually, I do.

Harold rose unsteadily and slammed a furniture catalogue onto the desk.

Harold: It has come to my attention that the armchairs in this club are an utter disgrace and must be replaced immediately. After conducting thorough research, I propose –

Eileen: Absolutely not.

PROCEEDINGS

Eileen: I call this General Meeting into order. Thank you, Harold, for wearing shoes this time. Gloria sends her apologies for her absence as she’s at her grandson’s wedding. She’s asked me to read this:

Bonjourno!

So sorry to miss this one! I wanted to stay in town for it but James insisted on booking us extra days at our resort so we’d have a proper getaway. No one told me having such generous and financially successful grandkids would be so exhausting!

If you’re looking for the leaf blower, we used it to chase off Linda’s cat. The ruddy thing kept scratching up the green while Sunday bowls was on. It completely set Brian off - he claimed the divot was ruining his trajectory and all sorts until Al told him he’s just shite at bowls. Brian started shouting about his aeronautical degree and then Al said fifty years ago that degree meant chucking a parachute on pilots and crossing your fingers.

It was really quite the scene.

Any who, Brian’s son chased the cat off with the leaf blower, tripped in a pothole and snapped the tube clean off. It’s at the repair shop. We’ll have to stick to shooing Linda’s cat with the broom for now, although Fran’s offered to try hypnosis on it. She’s been getting into that witchy woo lifestyle since she saw Pete Evans on the food network.

I’ll be back from the wedding next week. You lot would not believe how they run bowls club’s here – travelling truly broadens your horizons!

Also, no need to worry if there’s a couple gin bottles missing from the storeroom - that rancid possum that got into the tequila supplies a few weeks ago must’ve come back again.

I’d better get ready for another hectic day of sightseeing. The weekend has been el spectacular!

Au Revoir,
Gloria

Harold: I wish my grandkids got hitched overseas.

Ruth: Destination weddings sound fantastic.

Eileen: Gloria’s in Toowoomba. Now, can we address the disappearing gin?

Harold: Indeed. That’s a very advanced possum.

Ruth: Clever things, they are. We had one nick our mangoes last year and – there it is!

Ahmed: The possum?

Ruth: No, Linda’s cat.

Eileen: That ginger prick's shitting on the green again. Quick Harold, go shoo it off.

President’s Report

The recent quarter has seen several highlights - among them; doubled bingo prize money, the return of Margherita Mondays, and me wiping Sonia’s shit-eating-grin off her face in the women’s prem.

We’ve continued to see a steady rise in membership this quarter despite allegations of umpire bribery lodged by rival clubs. These claims were extremely disappointing to see. I urge Tiloolby Bowls members to be more discreet in their underhand dealings.

Our Facebook launch is under review again after another hacking incident. Margaret has been removed from the job and her credit card cancelled. Brian’s son will take over the social media in exchange for discounted rum.

To the members of Tiloolby Bowls – I’m astonished by your enthusiastic commitment to the club. Can you lot dial it back? My mobile phone is not a hotline despite your best attempts to make it so. Please reserve your ideas and concerns for lesser committee members, such as Harold. And if I hear one more complaint about the coffee and cake deal prices, so help me God I will pull the plug on strip poker night.

I would like to thank Gloria and the bar committee for getting me through these past months.

Eileen Osbourne
Eileen Osbourne
President

Harold: It won’t leave.

Eileen: What do you mean it won’t leave?

Harold: Well I told it to shoo and it just looked at me.

Eileen: So go chase it with the broom.

Harold: Did that. But it just hissed and went to sit on the other side of the green. I don’t have the knees to be chasing stuff anymore. Maybe if I had a orthoapedic-approved chair to recover in –

Eileen: Spare me the chair pitch, Christ almighty. Go lay out some special milk to lure it off the green.

Harold: Special milk?

Eileen: Yes yes, you know the stuff. Off you pop. Ruth, you’re up next.

Treasurer’s Report

Overall, the club needs to shake down member’s pockets more. If Steve can splurge on a new hip then he can afford more than five raffle tickets. We’ll be hosting upcoming fundraisers where we can target the cheapskates.

Summary from this quarter:

• Bar saw a 60% dive in profits after introducing free drinks to the bar committee – reports show bar was shut by 6pm most nights due to the bartender’s inebriation.
• Still sorting out the books from last quarter’s Bingo Night Embezzlement Scheme.
• Club revenue is down. We need to get Margaret back on the pokies.

Ruth Yates
Ruth Yates
Treasurer

Eileen: Thank you, Ruth.

Harold lumbered back over to the table and made a display of struggling to lower himself into his desk chair. Eileen took a swig from her thermos. She liked to pretend it was coffee, but Ahmed saw her empty her flask into it before every meeting.

Eileen: For God’s sake. Harold, take over the transcribing. I’m sick of William Shakespeare over here tapping away.

Eileen’s hostility towards accurate documentation is considered a form of censorship under international law and should be conddddddddddddd -

ruth: here ahmed, you can play with this fidget cube instead. my grandson loves them. now, we shood reverse the freee drinks deal

eileen looked verry uncomfortable with this proposal. probably cause she was on her subpar wheelee chair. this would not happen on a jackalope 2000, which was in the catolog harold kindly brought along.

Eileen: lets put throgh a motion.

Motion: replace armchairs
Motion: revoke free drinks for bar comitte

motion was passed because eileen said so.

Ruth: jesus christ harold werent you an english teacher?

Harold: quit reading over my sholder.

Eileen: oh for cryeing out loud. ruth, you take over the typing.

Eileen: Unfortunately, we’ve reached the Community Queries section of the meeting. Personally, I’d rather eat my own finger than read through this horseshit. But the members are threatening to unionise if we don’t look like we’re taking their complaints seriously, and I can’t be assed to deal with Trevor ever since he got that pacemaker. Bloody unbearable now that he doesn’t crumple every time he’s riled up. Could you read the first one out for us Ruth?

Ruth: Sure thing. It’s from Deborah:

Hi Eileen,
As you know, 60s night is approaching and Sue and I are co-hosting thanks to your inspired compromise.
Obviously, I’m coming as Maria Von Trapp (I’m really the only candidate who could do her justice), however, Sue is under the impression that she is also coming as Maria.
She claims she has a costume from when she starred in the Tiloolby Players pantomime years ago, which, frankly, I find laughable. We both know she has neither the complexion nor star power to pull off Maria.
It would be just swell if you could quietly suggest she come as something that better suits her demeanour.
Perhaps one of the mountain goats. I’m sure there were plenty of those running around Austria.

Ta,
Deborah

Eileen: pass. What’s next?

to comitte,
the state of the arm chairs concerns me. you must upgrade them.
my doctor recommennded the jackalope 2000. look into it.
sinserely,
concerned valued member

Eileen: I will not dignify that with a response. Next.

Dear Committee Members,

I’ve received several threats from [REDACTED] in the last week and am genuinely concerned for my safety.
She tried to run me off the hosting platform with her wheelie walker when she found out I’d be wearing the same costume as her.
[REDACTED] said she’d ‘welly me all the way back to the 60’s’ when I suggested Beatles themed trivia.
She then threatened to wallop me with a bag of lawn bowls.
Please help.
-[REDACTED]

Eileen: Not really our business who’s having an argy bargy with who.

Harold: Rude to get involved in people’s personal scuffs.

Ruth: Yes, probably best to let nature takes it course with this one. I find tha - What was that thumping sound?

Harold: What sound?

Ahmed: Did a bird hit the glass?

Eileen: Oh my God it’s the cat! Why is it convulsing like that?

Harold: Well, it’s probably the milk at work.

Eileen: What do you mean?

Harold: I put fertiliser in it.

Eileen: WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?

Harold: You told me to put the ‘special milk’ out. I thought that was code for poisoning it.

Eileen: I MEANT THE LACTOSE FREE STUFF! CATS ARE LACTOSE INTOLERANT. Oh my God Linda’s gonna kill us! Quit gawking Harold and go fetch the wretched thing. Ruth, go get the first aid kit.

With Ruth playing nurse, the job of transcriber returned to its rightful holder.

Harold stormed into the room with the cat swinging by its tail and dumped it onto the table.

Its claws gashed through the air as Eileen rolled it into recovery position. Its panting lost all rhythm. The cat wore a diamanté collar worth more than the committees combined life insurance.

Ruth rummaged through the medications in her purse. "Do you reckon my cholesterol meds would do the trick?"

Eileen performed chest compressions on the cat. "Someone bring up WikiHow."

"I’ll check," cried Ahmed.

WikiHow did not have instructions to remedy a poisoned cat.

The cat's shaking dwindled away and its gaze froze, yet its wheezing pursued, reassuring the committee not all hope was lost.

No, wait – that was Harold wheezing. The cat was very much dead.

They crowded around the rigid cat, its legs sticking out at right angles. Except for Ahmed, who was studiously documenting it all.

Silence stretched over the room.

The committee were reminded of their own fragile mortality as they stared at the stiff cat – a concept gracefully explored in Ahmed’s soon-to-be bestseller. Mortality, not stiff cats. Sombreness hung thick in the air as the feline was gently carried into the next life by the sound of computer keys tapping like a –

“AHMED I WILL SNAP YOUR HANDS OFF,” Eileen barked.

On second thought, it wasn’t sombreness. It was panic.

It became clear to Eileen what had to be done. "Harold, grab the shovel."

Harold stood perfectly still. He stared down Eileen. "Now hold on there. I’m not playing accomplice to your cover up."

"Accomplice? You’re the one who spiked the bloody thing, you numpty."

"And I’ll confess our combined involvement to Linda. Unless..." Harold’s eyes glazed over slightly.

"Unless what?" Eileen huffed.

[TRANSCRIPT ENDS]

FROM: Ashley’s Furniture Store
TO: Tiloolby Bowls Club
SUBJECT: Armchair Deliveries!

Hi there,

The Jackalope 2000 your club ordered is ready for delivery. We’ll pop round this afternoon to install it.

Kind Regards,
Ashley’s Furniture