Gillian Brownson - Community Theatre Practitioner, Storyteller & Writer
Gillian Brownson - Community Theatre Practitioner, Storyteller & Writer 

Sound/Moving Image/Words         

Writer & Storyteller, Gillian Brownson, spent 8 weeks in the company of the residents of Bryn Seiont Newydd Dementia care centre in Caernarfon, North Wales - exploring poetry, music and stories with a sea theme. As the residents generously shared their thoughts and feelings, Gillian used their reflections to create this piece of writing for them.
Words and Music for 'Song of the Sea' (In English)by Nolwenn Leroy
'Ar Lan Y Mor' is a traditional Welsh Folk Song.
With thanks to Mark Thompson @ Potterdrummer for producing the track. 


All examples of writing on this page are the intellectual property of Gillian Brownson. Please ask for permission to re-produce. 




The opening paragraphs to Mouse Missions: Darkwhistle & The Haunted River


London sits at the bottom of Britain, like a packet of broken biscuits. That’s what my Dad told me. It’s is a loud, crooked old city, with some new bits, where busy tall things, the gloomsters, live and walk and work and drive and run. This, I know for myself.

            Usually, in the world, it’s busy above ground and quiet underneath, where only insects and things like me live, or a few dead people, if you happen to be in a cemetery. In London though, under the ground, deep beneath the roads and pavements, the underneath is busier than the above, as this is where the twisting train tunnels of London’s underground railways turn and wind, right in the middle of the earth.

This is where I live, or lived, until very recently. 


New for Hallowe'en 2016

(and just for spooky fun!) I'll be working on the following text to develop into an illustrated children's book. 


'Silly Seth' by Gillian Brownson 


My Vampire friend, his name is Seth,

when the moon is bright, he'll drain you to death. 


He's a creature of the night, deathly tall and strong.

He is lord of all the spirits dead, but there's only one thing wrong. 


When it's time for dinner, a time I always dread,

his undead, pallid fingers go and steal my garlic bread!


Time and again, i've told him, "stop", but he eats it all the same. 

"I need it", he shouts, in a desperate voice, and then I get the blame.


"You should have stopped me!" Fangs appear, "I'm a vampire, not a human,"

and then he gets inside his coffin, dying, coughin', fumin'!


The garlic kills him every time; He'll never, ever learn.

Oh, and the sun too! He walks by day, so of course, his spirits burn.


He doesn't quite understand, he'll be forever dead.

So I've given up helping, and I'm going off to bed. 










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