Free Workshop and Exhibition for Hull Refugee Week

Would you like to come to a FREE workshop and exhibition on Wednesday June 19th 2.30 pm – 4.30 pm at Creator College, 6-8 King Edward St, Hull, HU1 3SS, UK

We use music, poetry, local film and storytelling to look at what it feels like to come to live in a strange land, and how music can bring people of different cultures together, overcoming adversity and creating something good and new.

Run by Mandi and Lou, it will be easygoing and there will be tea and biscuits. All welcome, just come along on the day but note that there are stairs up to the venue.

It’s all part of the Heritage Lottery Funded All Our Stories scheme, in support of BBC2’s ‘The Great British Story – A People’s History

Part of a series of workshops, which will contribute to the archive of stories and work created for the ‘My Ancestors were French’ project.

Dilzar creating a soundtrack for the film

There will also be a free My Ancestors were French gig (The Auricula Suite) at 7.00 pm. All welcome, come and join us!

Please note that there are stairs up to the concert room, and as yet no lift.

My Ancestors were French Workshop
My Ancestors were French Workshop
A Huguenot, and feedback
Workshop Circle

Click here to see the full Refugee Week Programme


Amber’s Poem


I left home
Everything I know
Everything I love
It was unbearable.

Coming from school
Not allowed home
Family have gone
What is happening?

Ushered into car
Away from Willerby
Out of Hull
Destination is unknown.

Scared silence
Thinking of home
Wish I was there.

Shaking nervously
Where am I?
Wanting to be home

By Amber Watson

Rachael’s Poem



When I’m older I want to move to America. I’ve never been before, but a lot of people on Youtube that I watch live there and it looks better than England. I want to pass all my GCSEs, all the core subjects as well as Business Studies, Japanese, History and Statistics. I’d love to get all As and A stars – but I wouldn’t mind a few Bs.

Celtic descent –> Hebrew name –> means Ewe

My Celtic descent
No idea how
Hull Celtic tribe
Time of Boudicca
Ancient Pagan religion

My Hebrew name
Means female sheep
I’m not Hebrew
Neither is Mum
Or my Dad
This is confusing

Surname is Hardy
I don’t know
Where it’s from
But I know
What it means
It means strong
Means come back
Almost every year

My Mum is
From the Country
She got married
To a ‘Townie’
I would have
Lived on farm

Got Dad’s eyes
And Mum’s face
And Grandad’s eyes
And Great Aunt
Jenny’s weird hair

My Dad’s Mum
Was called Jean
She died when
I was five
She used to
Give me chocolate
For after tea

My Dad’s Dad
Wall called Alan
Never met him
He was in
World War two
He went blind
But saw again
My Great Grandma
And Great Grandad
Were Slightly posh
Lots of kids

I might have
Relatives in America
We lost contact

My Step Auntie
Lives in Australia
She’s visiting soon
Which is nice.

By Rachael Hardy

Marlene and Shirley Identical Twin Sisters

Marlene and Shirley, identical twin sisters, wrote their poems together..

Marlene & Shirley, Identical Twins
Marlene & Shirley, Identical Twins

Bird – Robin
Noisy twitterer – Crow
Flying in the sky – A Dove
Wish I was there – Holiday
Free as a bird, free as an angel

Walking by the sea – standing at Jesus’ feet
Waves call me back to my home –
Feet dig in the sand – footsteps
leaving the depths
Of water
The Cat
Sleeping in the sunshine – Thinking of our life and stars
Walking and stretching – Out into the world
Rub against legs – For warmth and comfort
‘Where’s my dinner?’ So we don’t get thinner

By Marlene Patricia Rutherford and Shirley Elizabeth Rutherford
Identical Twin Sisters

Meg’s Poem


Why here?
Pin on a map
It’s my life now

Walking on the expansive Wolds
Skies as far as the eye sees
Breathing the exhilarating, golden air


Where to I go?
What can I take?
No time to pack
It’s just me!
What will happen?
Where are my babes?
Will I see this place again?
My heart beats with fear
My neighbours press round me
Can I keep up with the crowd?
My body is tired
I need to rest
But they press on
Will we find shelter?
Will there be home?

By Meg Brumpton