The first was a short story competition on the theme of Brunel, supported by creative writing workshops to help people develop their creative writing skills. The workshops were led by local authors and were held at a good selection of libraries across the city:

Bristol Central Library with Glenn Carmichael
Bedminster Library with Jeannie Johnson
Fishponds Library with Pip Granger
Westbury Library with Patricia Ferguson




All the workshops were well attended, with a total of 45 aspiring writers turning up.

First: £150 plus the story read by a literary agent Second: £100 Third: £50 17 runners-up prizes of a £5 book token 132 entries were received, including one submitted in Gujarati. The entries were judged by a panel of representatives from local reading groups, chaired by Tom Sperlinger, Lifelong Learning Officer for Humanities, University of Bristol. The winners were announced at a prize giving ceremony held on 6 May at the Central Library, when the prizes were presented by Andrew Kelly of Brunel 200. To round off the project, the twenty shortlisted stories were published in a booklet, with the winning three stories illustrated by local artist Simon Gurr. Copies are held in all libraries.

Three graphic novel workshops for young adults were held during the half term holiday at the beginning of June, in Bristol Central Library, Henbury Library and Bristol Prison. Simon Gurr, illustrator of the Brunel graphic biography published by Brunel 200, led the workshops.

The aim behind the workshops was to involve young people in a creative process and, through this, enable them to learn more about Brunel and his work. Simon showed the young people some of the work he had done and took them step-by-step through the process. They then each produced a cartoon story, which was made into a page of a comic. Staff at Henbury Library reported that the young people thoroughly enjoyed themselves, and the library later staged a display of their work.




Feedback from Alison Duffy, Prison Librarian at Bristol Prison:

Simon added:

Winning entry: The Sphinxes who wouldn’t sit still
by Benjamin Tucker

“Have you tried rivets?” shouted the short man in the stovepipe hat.

“Rivets, chains, everything!” cried the navvy, exasperated, mopping his brow.
“Nothing will hold them!”

“Why won’t they just sit still!” demanded the man in the hat, whose name was Brunel.

“I don’t understand it”, said the Italian, shaking his head and stroking his wiry black beard. “In Egypt, all they ever do is sit still”.

“Well they’re not sitting still now!” exclaimed Brunel, gesturing wildly to where a group of labourers were struggling to stop two winged creatures from taking flight. Each creature had, as well as a pair of red wings, the body of a lion and the head of a man. Around the neck of each creature was a rope and on the end of each rope a half dozen men fighting to keep their feet on the ground.

“What did you say they were called again?” asked Brunel, who was an engineer.

“Sphinxes” answered the Italian, whose name was Caviglia. He had brought the twin creatures at no small expense all the way from Egypt in Africa to Bristol in the west of England. He had uncovered them while excavating the Great Pyramids at Giza. Right now the pair stood, if not exactly still as statues, on a grassy field atop a limestone gorge while around them groups of workmen shouted and waved their hands. It was first light and in the darkness a river the colour of oil and tar snaked far below.

“Well Mr Sphinx” growled Brunel, rolling up his sleeves, “Let's see how tough you really are”.

Determinedly, the engineer strode towards the nearest tug of war. Reaching the contest, he took hold of the rope that tethered the creature and, with one swift jerk, brought the face of the sphinx down level with his own. The creature stopped struggling, narrowed its eyes and focused its attention on the figure before it. Face to face, whiskers apart, man and sphinx studied each other intently for some moments. Then, as if deciding he had the measure of the other, the man in the tall hat spoke.

“My name is Isambard Kingdom Brunel” he declared, the stub of a cigar clenched between his teeth. “My Great Western Railway is the finest work in England and runs from London to Bristol through a tunnel two miles long cut from solid rock. I have engineered the largest and most powerful steamships ever built, carrying passengers and cargoes from the Old World to the New. My train tracks bear locomotives from Ireland to Bengal and beyond. This bridge (continued the engineer, indicating to an unfinished tower behind him) that I have fought long and hard to build will, when complete, span the Avon gorge and you, my obstinate friend, and your companion will sit atop its towers and watch over those who cross it”. And with a ‘humph’ of cigar smoke Brunel fixed the sphinx with a stone hard stare as if to say “I dare you to answer me back”.

Impassively, the Sphinx considered the man for a moment. The creature was completely still but for the slow, gentle beating of its huge red wings. The draught from its mighty feathers fanned the end of the engineer’s cigar so that the glow from its embers caught the features of the man’s face. Then with an enigmatic smile and a voice as dry and ancient as sand the Sphinx replied:

“I know who you are Isambard Kingdom Brunel and I know of your achievements. I understand better than you how your feats of engineering will affect the lives of every man and woman on this planet. For better or worse you have made this world a smaller place, young man”. And with this the sphinx exhaled and Brunel caught the scent of the Orient and felt the heat of the desert sun against his face. He felt giddy of a sudden, not a sensation he was familiar with, and then darkness and water cold all around him and the sound of men screaming. “You are a great man Brunel” cried the Sphinx in a voice like the sound of a tomb being sealed, “the finest engineer of this era. But my twin and I are millennia old and we have met many great men, known many engineers”.

And with that the Sphinx shook itself and the rope slipped from out of Brunel’s hands. The noble creature took one step back and with a gracefulness its size belied bowed ever so slightly before the man. Brunel, shaken, returned the honour. Then with a single bound the Sphinx was airborne and away, rising high over the gorge and the river and the city below.

Seeing this the labourers struggling with the second Sphinx shrugged their shoulders and let their captive go. With one mighty sweep of its wings the second creature took flight, soaring to catch its companion who was already disappearing into the eastern sky and the rising sun.

Heading back to where Caviglia stood, Brunel lifted his hat and scratched the top of his head.

“I think”, said the engineer wearily, “that we could all do with a break”.

Brunel did not live to see his bridge completed. Construction stopped in 1845 and did not start again until after his death in 1859 when the Institution of Civil Engineers decided that the completion of the bridge would be a fitting memorial to the great engineer. The finished bridge still spans the Avon gorge to this day but without its pair of Sphinxes which were omitted from the final, revised design due to ‘lack of funds’. If you are lucky enough to visit the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities in Cairo you will see lots of Sphinxes all sat entirely still. None of them have wings, which might explain why they’re still sat there.


Photography: Mark Simmons.