In this newsletter:
- Dates for your diary
- Notices
- 2025 AGM and exhibition
- Group news
- Short stories - AI/human - can you tell?
Dates for your diary
Next meeting – Thursday 16th October 2025 – History of Goodwood by Harry Sherrad.
Christmas party – 11th December, 2pm. This will be a ticketed event at a cost of £5. There will be a buffet, raffles, a quiz and musical entertainment. We have spaces for 150 members. Book your place here, or at our next two monthly meetings.
Island litter picking campaign – Several organisations are getting together to launch a major litter pick across the island. It will take place on Sunday 2nd November 2025. Several areas are on the litter picking list including much of the beach, the Ferry Boat area and the North Billy Trail. But there are many more.
Notices
Visit to the Houses of Parliament – We have arranged with our MP, Alan Mak, to take a party of up to 40 Hayling U3A members to visit the Houses of Parliament in January 2026. The coach will pick us up at the Langstone Quays Hotel and will cost £24 per head.
More details including the date of the visit will be available this month, when we will start to take bookings for the visit.
Sue Duffy – We have been notified that Sue passed away a few weeks ago. So far we have had no information on the funeral arrangements.
Group leaders – Please check your membership lists on the website. There have been a couple of occasions when we have tried to contact members of a specific group only to find that the membership list is out of date.
November newsletter – this will be a shortened version as I am unable to collate the articles in time.
2025 AGM and Exhibition
The AGM was well attended, and the following officers were voted in for the coming year: Julie Taylor (Chair), Peter Haskell (Vice-chair), Trevor Brash (Secretary), Bob Hornby (Treasurer), Maura Chapman (Network Liaison Officer).
As we had a couple of new people step forward to help with the work of the committee, we can continue with all our activities for at least another year. Hopefully more people will feel able to help beyond next September 2026.
Following the AGM we were entertained by our ukuleles with a sing along before we had our tea and visited the group exhibitions.
Julie Taylor
Group news
Photography group
At September's meeting we looked at the work of a photographer called Andy Small.
After a presentation of Andy’s work in August, our prints were inspired by Andy Smalls trying to replicate his work.
These are the prints that the group produced and presented.
Sue Wakely
Walking netball
The walking netball group attended the Walking Netball Festival 2025 on Saturday 13th September.
The No Score Walking Netball Festival brought together three enthusiastic teams from the Portsmouth area: The Hayling Hobblers (Hayling u3a), The Walkie Talkies (Portsmouth) and NRG (Gosport). Whilst scores weren’t officially kept, the event was packed with energy, teamwork and friendly rivalry.
The festival was organised by Debbie Laycock of Netball in the Community, as a non-competitive celebration of the sport of walking netball.
Congratulations to all our players but in particular to:
- Liz Barnden who was awarded the 'Best and Fairest Player' of the tournament
- Vicky Evans who was awarded 'Defender of the Festival'
The festival proved to be more than a sporting event. It demonstrated that the game offered participants a chance to reconnect, meet new people and experience physical and mental health benefits.
Ann Dawson
History 2
The History 2 group is moving to the Barley Mow for monthly meetings starting in October.
As always, we will start with a talk on a historical subject by one of our members, but from October we will then move on to a discussion topic. The October topic is - "Who was the best King Henry?"
We currently have 6 members and we have room for 2 more so please get in touch if you have an interest. Don't be daunted by the need to prepare a talk every so often - some of our talks have come direct from Wikipedia!
We are one of the groups which has been running since Hayling U3A was formed nearly 20 years ago. The group was led for the first 6 years by Len Smith. Len and his wife Vera were in the car with Paul and Maura Chapman coming back from a meeting at Chichester U3A when Paul decided to launch Hayling U3A. The rest, as they say, is history! Len had studied History at Oxford and had a keen interest in both ancient and modern history.
When Len's health deteriorated in 2012, he asked Ben Lyon to take over, Ben ran the group from his home for 11 years, then after a health scare he handed over to me.
Richard North
Science and technology (open group)
Due to circumstance beyond my control the programme for this session has been changed again.
The next talk on Wednesday 22nd October at 2 pm, in St Patricks Church Hall, Hayling, is titled “The development of Sailing ships in Europe” given by Bob Hornby.
This is followed on 26th November by a talk by Jan Barrett entitled “Paper Clips, Coffee tins and rockets - not necessarily in that order...” and covers: the V1 and V2 rockets; The Black Knight; and the Hovercraft, this should be a very good talk and well worth coming along to support Jan who actually worked on these projects, so we should be in for a treat and insider information.
Our last presentation on SCUBA Diving in the Solent by Percy Phelps was very enlightening. The amount of training you need to do before you can go under water. The planning, and ‘dive buddy’ you have share the dive with and be able to trust. I certainly had my eyes opened. Percy also showed a couple videos and the noises the fish made underwater were very interesting. I do remember the sea noises from my days on a submarine they were very strange and the sonar operator could tell you what each one was.
I look forward to seeing you all there at the next presentation we have room for another 20 people.
I would like to hear from anyone who has a topic they would like to hear more about.
Bob Hornby
Short stories - AI/human - can you tell?
Just out of interest one of our creative writing groups would like you to try to identify which of the following stories has been written by AI (Artificial Intelligence). The other story has been written by one of our members.
The answer will be given in the next newsletter.
The Green Door
The door was set back from its neighbours. It was a dark green colour with the paintwork peeling and faded, marked with scuffs of unidentifiable matter. It didn’t exactly stand out though as the entire street was full of doors that were either in the same state or very near. The gutter, clogged with old dog ends, had litter blowing around, with discarded chip containers, that might have held a burger, but not fish as they were the wrong shape. The street was very quiet though, almost as if it was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. The silence was broken briefly by the sound of a motor bike roaring somewhere in the distance, and a cheeky wind blew a coke can along the tarmac, making it clatter as it rolled around.
The woman walked slowly along the road, looking around her all the while. She was obviously on edge, jumping when the coke can clattered nearby. She looked quite out of place, in a fashionable coat with an animal design on it, and smart high heeled shoes to match her smart handbag. She picked up her pace a bit, risking a sprained ankle on the uneven pavement, and then stopped at the green door, as her face became set in a determined expression and she looked for some way of knocking. There was a bell screwed on to the door jamb and she pressed this, stepping back after as if ready to run.
After a few minutes, the door was opened and a friendly voice said “Come in, come in, don’t stand out there getting cold. We’ve been expecting you, welcome to the House.”
The door was opened wider to reveal a hall full of warm air and with colourful hand drawn pictures on all of the walls. There was a worn but serviceable carpet runner on the floor, and the door was being held by a cosy looking middle aged woman wearing dark trousers and a bright shirt. “Come on into the kitchen and I’ll put the kettle on, I dare say you’re ready for a cup of something by now. This way” With that, she closed the door and turned to go down the hall. “I’m Annie by the way, and we have ten staying with us at present. It varies of course, we always get more after a big match or if the government changes the system in any way. They can’t understand that many people are just not able to be flexible with their finances, and don’t have the social skills or ability to cope. Tempers get out of hand and fists fly. However, we’re here to help aren’t we? Thank goodness somebody is.”
By now they had reached the kitchen, a large room with units and worktops all round and a big square table set in the middle. Two women were sat at the table with mugs of tea, eating biscuits from a tin in front of them. They stopped talking and eyed the newcomer up and down, taking in her smart clothes and handbag. “Who are you then?” demanded one. “From the council are ye? Nah, not with them posh clothes. Yer not a social worker are ye? If so luv, better get yerself some different gear. You’ll get mugged round here in that lot”
“Nah, she’s won the lottery and ‘as come to give us a hundred quid.” Said the other woman, and they sniggered at this thought.
“Ladies, please” said Annie as she poured out two mugs of tea from a steaming tea pot. “This is …..Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t ask your name. Oh, do sit down”
“It’s Sarah, thank you.” She sank onto a nearby kitchen chair.
“Right, so, this is Doreen and that’s Kellie. Doreen, why don’t you go and see what your Alfie’s up to? I expect he’s doing something he shouldn’t”. The one called Doreen pulled a sulky face. “He don’t always make trouble”. He’s got a high IQ that’s what. He gets bored easily.” Her mate laughed. “Oh we all know about Alfie’s IQ don’t we? What’s IQ stand for then? Irritating Gob?, that’s what your Alfies got. My Jack ain’t stupid you know, he knows how to behave himself. That little toe rag gets spoilt rotten Doreen.”!
“Yeh well he’s had a lot to put up with hasn’t he?” Was Doreen’s reply, as a crash reverberated from upstairs. “Oh bugger! What’s ‘e done now?” Annie looked stern. “Doreen! I think you had better go ….Now please!”
Both women stood up. “We’ll leave you in peace then, welcome to the madhouse.” With that, they strolled out of the kitchen presumably to see what damage Alfie had done.
Annie sat down on one of the vacated chairs. “It’s all a bit chaotic I’m afraid.” She said, passing the biscuit tin across the table. “They don’t really know any different you see, and they find well turned out women very intimidating, so they hide behind it by being rude. There’s probably a fair bit of envy thrown in as well to be honest. Why should you be able to afford those clothes, and what are you doing here, showing us up with our cheap stuff. It might be more tactful if next time, you come in something older and less fashionable. I’m surprised they didn’t brief you on that”
Sarah sat like a stone, listening to this. “What are you talking about? Who should have briefed me?”
“Your tutor of course, honestly I don’t know what they do at that place.”
“What tutor, I haven’t got a tutor, I think you have me mixed up with someone else. I was told about you by one of the volunteers at the library. I thought, hoped, you would help me. Maybe I was mistaken but I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. Sorry.” She stared into her mug. Annie looked confused at this. “Aren’t you here for a session of work experience then? I was expecting you to want to experience hands on work in a women’s refuge. It was arranged with the college last week.”
“No, I’m here because I hoped that you could help me to escape from my husband”. Sarah had relaxed a bit by now. “He’s a total control freak, the only place I’m allowed to go on my own is the library, and that’s only because he’s never read a book in his life and thinks that I’ll just be a quiet little mouse if I have a book to look at. He’s got no idea what goes on in a library.” She took a breath after saying all this in one go.
Annie took a swig of tea and looked thoughtful. “O.K., so you go to the library, how does he make you feel so ……?” she wasn’t sure how to put the question. “Does he hit you? What happens when you get back?”
“He times me, and if I’m later than he expects, he hits me with the books, then throws them into the garden and I have to go and fetch them back. Sometimes, especially if it’s cold or raining, he locks the door for about half an hour so that I can’t get back in.” Sarah bit into a ginger nut nervously when she mentioned this.
“Is that it?” Annie didn’t want to sound harsh but she had dealt with so much worse than this.
“Oh no, he dictates everything I do, shopping, washing, eating, you name it. I’m not allowed to choose anything, he chooses all my clothes. I hate this lot”. She indicates the coat, shoes and handbag. “If I don’t put on what he chooses, then there’s a massive tantrum and he tears it off me before actually tearing it up so that I can’t put it on again.”
“Does he never leave you alone? What about his work? Surely he has to go to work.” Was Annie’s next question.
“Easy” replies Sarah. “He locks me in. I’m expected to do the housework and have his dinner, which he has chosen, ready for him when he gets home. As he never tells me when he’ll be back, it’s tricky to get it right, and then I get another temper outburst and my dinner is thrown away. That’s probably why I’m so thin, could I have another biscuit?” She reached for the tin as she said this.
Annie passed the biscuit tin over. She was wondering why this woman hadn’t got herself a solicitor and a divorce but there must be a reason she thought. What about her family? Her first concern however was to find out what Sarah expected her to do. She phrased her next question carefully.
“So Sarah, you have managed to run away to here. What would you like us to do?” Annie mentally crossed her fingers. “You can report him to the police you know and stay here for while till after his arrest. How does that sound?” She smiled with what she hoped was encouragement.
“Oh no, I can’t do that. He’s so well connected that he would be believed that I was unstable and making it up. I tried it once before, it was awful. He sent people to find me, and then I was locked in for a week. He can do that you know. No, I just want somewhere to stay for a bit, somewhere safe.”
Annie was getting very concerned at this last statement. If this man was so well connected, would he find out where the refuge was. That would never do, she had all the other battered souls to think about. Could she get rid of this woman? No, that would be unthinkably unkind, and she couldn’t have that on her conscience. She looked across the table at Sarah who was calming down visibly now. “Wow, he sounds like quite a dangerous man.” Annie tried not to sound too anxious. “How do you know that he can’t trace you to here? I mean, that would be really bad for us as well as you wouldn’t it. Perhaps I should give my police contact a call about him. Just to make sure that nothing nasty happens. Where exactly do you live?”
Sarah shook her head. “No need, he’ll never find me here. Not now.”
“How can you be so sure?” asked Annie. “You’ve painted a fairly horrible picture of him.”
“Because I stabbed him with the bread knife just before I came out. I left him on the kitchen floor making quite a mess I can tell you. He should probably be dead by now. Is there any more tea?” Sarah held out her mug with the smiley face on the side.
The Heat Wave
The heat had descended upon Elbridge like a silent adversary—insidious, unrelenting, and vaguely accusatory, as if the entire town were somehow to blame for its presence.
It was the sort of heat that made people irritable, forgetful, suspicious. Conversations grew clipped. Doors were locked earlier than usual. Even the vicar at St. Luke’s abandoned his cassock for a linen shirt and preached sermons that seemed half their usual length and twice as apocalyptic.
Mara Dunley, newly fifteen and already burdened with the weary intelligence of someone who paid too much attention, found the heat intolerable. Her grandmother, a stoic woman with ankles like stone columns and a belief in stoicism bordering on the religious, refused to acknowledge the discomfort. “Heat,” she declared from her armchair, “is merely a test of one’s character.”
Mara had failed that test by lunchtime.
She wandered restlessly through the stifling house, touching objects without purpose - an old photograph in its frame, a cracked glass bowl, her mother’s necklace tucked in a drawer - until her eyes fell upon her bicycle by the back gate. It was nearly too hot to ride, but there was somewhere she could go. Somewhere that tugged at her in spite of everything.
The river.
The place had significance now. Not because of the trees or the cool water or even the freedom it offered—but because of him.
Eli Harrow.
They had once shared everything. School notebooks, secrets, dreams of leaving Elbridge for somewhere with trains and late-night cafés. And then, quite abruptly, they had shared a kiss—an awkward, silent, irreversible thing. After that, they shared nothing at all.
But today, drawn more by instinct than intention, Mara pedalled through the shimmering lanes toward the riverbank. The sun bore down with something like contempt, and when she arrived, flushed and breathless, she half-expected it to have vanished entirely—burned away by the heat.
It hadn’t.
And nor had Eli.
He was seated on the far bank, shirt crumpled beside him, camera in hand, as still and pale as a figure in a photograph.
“Well,” he said, not rising, not surprised. “I did wonder if you’d come.”
She stood knee-deep in the shallows, the current tugging at her skirt. “I didn’t come for you.”
“No,” he said mildly. “You came for the quiet. The river tells no secrets.”
They spoke for a while, words offered like cautious olive branches, tentative, uncertain. There was no talk of the kiss, nor the silence that followed it. Such things had no place in the shade of the old sycamores, with the water murmuring of older, cooler things.
Later, as they sat side by side, watching a single heron lift off with languid wings, Mara noticed the sky had darkened. A storm was coming at last. You could smell it—rain and electricity and something clean, like an apology.
“You think it’ll break the heat?” she asked.
Eli glanced at her. “Perhaps. Or perhaps it’ll just move it somewhere else.”
She didn’t reply. The first drops were falling now, soft and cold.
She let them.
So, which was written by a human and which by a computer?
u3a Online Learning Events
There are many online learning events coming up this October. Find out more about them.