Sandy...

From a very early age I loved writing stories and poems and this continued through my childhood and teenage years till just after I left school. Thereafter life took hold and too much time spent doing meant less time writing. The urge to write was still there but rather than being creative with it, I satisfied the need by keeping a personal journal, not every day, but as and when the mood struck. I always longed to write more but never did.

Then just over 10 years ago, in August 2007, I decided it was time to do something about my compulsion to write. I took the plunge and signed up for a Creative Writing course at Cumbernauld College. This was a big thing for me as out of my comfort zone I am painfully shy and the thought of joining a class not knowing anyone was excruciating, but I was determined to do it.

Driving to the first class that September evening my heart was beating so hard I could feel it in the back of my throat. Yes, I really did feel as though my heart was in my mouth. I deliberately arrived really early as the thought of walking into the class last would have been enough to stop me going in at all.

When I got to the class door it was ajar. I knocked and was welcomed by a hearty “come in” and I stepped inside to be met by a smiling, spectacled man in his thirties, frantically shuffling papers whilst trying to get his lap top to fire up. “You’re first!” he said, “My first student!” His grin was infectious as he shook my hand warmly and introduced himself as Sandy.

It turns out I was his first student. Well on the College course anyway. I discovered later that Sandy ran writer’s groups in the area and had fought hard to persuade the college to run the Creative Writing Course and couldn’t quite believe it when they finally agreed. This was the first night of the first course and I was the first student to arrive.

As we chatted, I immediately warmed to him. He was like a boisterous child on Christmas Eve. Full of excitement and eager to get started. His enthusiasm and his passion for his subject was clear to see and as the rest of the students began to arrive, I relaxed and knew I was going to enjoy this.

And I did. Thursday nights couldn’t come fast enough.

We were a mixed bunch of ages, personalities and writing experience. Sandy’s gentle but persistent encouragement and enthusiastic reception to all that we wrote turned us from quaking students dreading being asked to read our work out loud to the rest of the class, to students happy to share our work and receive constructive criticism from everyone.

The course was a success and the best of our work was published in an anthology that actually sold pretty well.

When the course ended Sandy was keen for me to join the local writer’s group and I was full of good intentions about doing so but of course life got in the way again and I didn’t. We kept in touch though just as I kept in touch with some of my classmates.

When he told me the College was running a follow up course the next year I put my name down immediately. Infact three of us from the first course signed up and when September 2008 rolled around, the fun began again.

More relaxed and better prepared for what was to come, I enjoyed this course even more than the first. Sandy was in fine form, his confidence also boosted by the success of the first course. New friendships were made, deep and interesting discussions took place and of course the writing. Lots of writing. It astounded me what amazing plots and characters and poetry emerged from our group of everyday people, led so enthusiastically by Sandy. We could not have asked for a friendlier, more enthusiastic and encouraging teacher, but more than that, an all round decent human being.

I remember we had a night out during the course where, due to being on antibiotics for a nasty chest infection (even that couldn’t keep me away from class) I was designated driver for those who lived in Cumbernauld. Four drunken bodies piled into my car at the end of the night and I made my way around dropping each of them off at their houses.

Sandy was the last one out and as I parked outside his house, we ended up chatting for ages about literature, how his love of writing began and how much it meant to him to encourage others to write and develop their skills and find that hidden novel inside.

I also learned that night that this energetic, always smiling, enthusiastic, generous guy had a son with severe autism and life could be extremely challenging. He never gave any hint of that in his interaction with his students.

When the course ended, we had a night out to end all nights out. Thinking about it, I am actually sitting here laughing as I type, remembering dancing in the pub (no dance floor), singing (no karaoke!) whilst reliving the best moments of the course.

Sandy and I kept in touch and he never stopped encouraging me to write, offering to cast an eye over anything I did write to provide constructive criticism, and inviting me to join writers’ groups. He knew that photography and Blip had become my creative outlet of choice and encouraged me greatly in that too, but all our conversations ended with the same two words from him; keep writing.

I am sure you can imagine my shock when I got a message this morning telling me Sandy had passed away suddenly and unexpectedly yesterday. It actually took about 5 minutes of reading and re-reading the message before its meaning actually sank in. Part of me stll can’t believe it.

I know he’d had some ill health recently, but typically he played it down and was quick to turn the conversation round to positive things. I’ve spoken to Catherine, Geraldine and John, the friends I made on the course and who I am still in touch with, and we are all equally shocked and saddened, Catherine in particular as she had known Sandy for years before the Creative Writing class and had actually arranged to meet him tomorrow for coffee and writing chat.

Sandy, wherever you are, I hope you are pain free and enjoying a chat with all the literary greats. Thank you for being a wonderful teacher and for all your advice and input into my writing efforts, but most of all thank you for your friendship, your kindness, generosity and humour. The world is a sadder and darker place without you.