Wigtown Book Festival Workshop Responses



Xbox 360 and games and laptop and a pen and a passport and my camera.

A car, speaker, chair, house, Rc car, TV, tent, train, gf, bed, my life, bike, fridge, desk, door, football, socks, my dog, friends, family, school.


a note book, pencil, rubber and knife.

Books, books, always more books,

keep me away from the anger and the strife.

Trinkets and toys, laptop computer. Dodging my way through airport commuters.

First aid kit, just one more bootlace…

Oh, how I wish I had more room in my suitcase!

Can’t take your house, yourself or your car,

Can’t take the memories, you’ve come too far.

Can’t take your friends, your stacks of clothes,

Can’t take a lover, an almost betrothed.


I would take a book, a phone, a doodle book, teddy, a laptop, my pet, a blanket, a charger, glasses, pencils, toothbrush, hairbrush, hair bobbles, a snack, clothes, water bottle and more things if I could. I only have 5 minutes though.

I had to leave my coat in the water. I was cold I was colder without my coat. There were men in the water and children smaller than me wishing they could just be home cuddling into their warm blankets but they couldn’t, neither could I but people looked worried too of what will happen next. I just hope everything is going to be okay and that me and my mother would survive the journey.


I can’t take my memories

I can’t take my height marks on the wall

I can’t take my house!

I wish I could take everything I had.

I wish I could take my family too.


I would take my horse and dog, notebook and pencils and food! And phone and a little clothes and photos.

I can’t take lots of clothes and I can’t take toys, friends.


The boat creaks and doesn’t feel that steady. I’m worried that they are not going to accept us all and that we’ll have to go back. The boat has stopped working, a man had to jump in, he is up to his chin in water, I feel sorry and most of all I’m worried.


What I’d take:

IPad, charger, clothes, teddy, iPhone, money, a book or two, food, drinks, sweets, passports, shoes, school book, notepad, ear phones, suitcase.

What I can’t take:

TV, Wi-Fi, bed, cooker, microwave, a house, a school, mother, brother, dad, family, friends, memories, a life that I started, pet, health care.


In my suitcase, I would pack my teddy that I have had since I was a baby, clothes, phone, small pillow, charger, sweets/food, money, a book/notepad, drinks, shoes, school books, earphones, pictures of my family, medicine (paracetamol) and a toothbrush and toothpaste.

In my suitcase, I can’t take an animal, other people, TV, bed, cooker/microwave, a house, Wi-Fi, a school, my family, a life that i started so well, friends, memories, shops, healthcare, my granny.

A man standing in the freezing cold water just waiting for the boat to stop, pushing and pulling the boat, helping people to get there. His legs are tired, cold, shattered, just wanting to rest when they get there.



I can’t take my pets, my house, my garden, memories from home, friends, my family, my room, my clothes, my nail varnish, shoes, my bed, my trophy, the nice feel of winter.

Woman with the bags

“I wish I could go home”

“won’t anyone help me?”

“I’m cold”
“I’m hungry”
“how’s my family”
“I miss home”
“when are we arriving”
“when will this end “
“these bags are heavy”
“why isn’t anyone helping me”
“I hope those people are okay in the water”


1 pair of leggings, 1 top, 1 pair of pants, shoes, iPad, book, picture of family, phone, food, chargers, toothbrush, hairbrush.


Can’t take a cat, TV, dog, bike, trampoline, my house, bed, my family, my life, my friends, makeup, aunt/uncle.


Why are we here? I told her not to go. To stay in the place where she was born. The most precious memory, forgotten by my grandchildren. I cannot bear it. And to be on this boat, this floating, sinking, tipping boat! It be enough to make me long for the bombs, the screaming and fighting.


I would take something that my parents had given me when I was little so that would be my teddy monster called mister ugly. I would also take my tablet if possible to keep in touch with people I had left behind.

I can’t take my family, I can’t take my pets, I can’t take every day smells and I can’t take love. Everything that has a place in my heart won’t fit in that suitcase.

The boy throwing an item of clothing off the boat would say “for the mother I had to leave against my will, may this piece of cloth offered to the sea keep her in good health throughout this terrible war.


I would take my hairbrush (I can’t do without it) and my grans old necklace, clothes (just a few), my phone, both of my cats, money, a book, toiletry stuff.

The woman waving is thinking “I hope I see my grandson again. I hope they have another meal. And I hope I turned the stove off.”


I can’t take my friends, my other friends, the smell of my bathroom when I walk in, my garden, my ice skates, my lovely old life, my fruit bowl!


It would be silly to take another suitcase full of rubbish and junk like a shelf full of books or a dog in a box or a house full of memories or my room full of friends.


Reaching down into the water to help a poor man. He dropped his suitcase into the depths. He jumped in to get it but couldn’t get it out. He had a photo of his wife and his kids, they’re gone now and so is his spirit.


I can’t take too big things like my friends, my garden, my whole house, my dreams, all my thoughts because they won’t fit, I can’t take the sound of my beautiful town.


Man helping man in water.

I have to help that man; I have to try and be strong.

I have to survive,

I want to be in a safe where I can talk with the people that I love,

Now I don’t have anyone I love, I don’t have anyone that cares about me,

But I know I can care about someone else.


Some clothes for my journey, picture of my friends and family, a teddy so I can cuddle it, a book to keep me interested, paper and pencils so I can draw, and some cash and food.



Standing man at the back.

All I could think about was getting there safely. I was looking far over the water to see if I could see land. I couldn’t. I felt I had to keep everyone safe, like they were my responsibly. I was terrified but I was trying to hold my power stance so that it wouldn’t show. If it came to it I would make sure everyone else was safe before me. I wanted to help pull the boat but I was secretly too scared. I couldn’t let it show.


Before anything else I would bring my cat. I just love him so much! (He wouldn’t fit in know…) I would bring clothes, my sketch book, pencil and rubber. I would bring my iPod because it has so many pictures on it, and so I could listen to songs to calm me. I would bring snacks because I’m always hungry. And of course my teddy I’ve had since I was 3! And money so I could buy things.


I can’t take my favourite meals that remind me of home. I can’t take my bedroom… I can’t bring all of my favourite books (Harry Potter!) and I can’t bring my memories. I can’t take my favourite room in the house (the living room) where I’ve had my favourite memories. I can’t take my beloved dogs’ grave. I can’t bring all my photo albums or my old baby toys. I can’t take my friends or family members.


Tablet/iPad. Jean. T shirt. 1 pair of shoes, my ring, my cross necklace. A.K.A stuff/things.


Car, TV, my gran, my gramps, my house, my family, my friends, my cooker, my bike, my bed, my cupboard, my suitcase, microwave, my auntie’s horse, my auntie’s dog, my grandpa’s pigeons, the village I live in.


That man looks cold. I remember being back at home. I wish he wasn’t in the water. I want to go home.


I left my home and could only take a couple of things in my bag. I remember playing in the summer when I was a little girl out in the street. I wish I didn’t have to leave all my family and friends behind. I hope the few things I got to bring will give me comfort.


I can’t take my home. I can’t take my memories. I can’t take my TV. I can’t take my car. I can’t take my dog.


I would take my lizard because it is really important to me. I would also take my clothes and shoes and a phone and a picture of my family and food and water.


I can’t take time,

Those eyes that shine,

The view from my window.

I can’t take the laughter

Or the shadows the light casts on the floor.

I can’t take my childhood.

I can’t take my bed

Or anything that matters.


The boat it creaks, it groans.

It begs for relief.

Relief from us, from the journey, from the water.

I wade in the water by the side of our maiden, her voyage long and hard.

Her timbers sigh,

The water laps against her.

We hear the shout,

“Land Ahoy.”



5 minutes left

1 loaf of bread

a picture of my home

a string of jewels

an old dog bone

a book or two perhaps

a scarf

a hat

a tooth brush

a key

a picture of my mother

things dear to me

things near to see

but I can’t take my home…



Terrifying and scary, you never know where you will end up or if the boat will crash into an island or just some rocks in the vast ocean.



I would take my cat, clothes, phone, TV, shoes, a smaller bag and food.


I can’t take a bigger bag, house, a whale, my friends, people, a tree, bike, car, lorry and large things.


I feel like the person at the back feels like he wants to help but he is scared to so he just watches in shame.


I would take my dog, phone, TV, a smaller bag, food.

I can’t take large things.


I feel like the person in the water is feeling helpless.


I think that I would take pictures of my friends and people close to me. My chocolate Labrador if it would fit. Good books (Percy Jackson, Harry Potter).


I can’t fit my friends or family, only photos. Can’t take the PlayStation. Girlfriend. Friends.


Well this is it. My new life, wherever I am. No one here I know. Everyone’s back at home. All that needs to be done now is to get this boat out of here.