There’s no denying, for 2 weeks the Wednesday Writing routine has gone awry. I could blame my day job, the prevailing stomach bug, the nice DVDs from the BBC (ah, The Hour, ah, Scott & Bailey…). But that’s more efficient to shut up and start anew.
Yet, last week all was not lost: I had a golden moment to myself. Due to an unexpected alignment of the stars, I came home extra early from work and with my 45 free minutes, I headed to a fancy Parisian café next door (not too close, so that guilt would not assault me like a bad vibe crossing the street). It was too late for a coffee (I like lattés when I sit, or expresso standing at the counter), and too early for something stronger (nightmare: the nanny smelling alcohol in my breath as I head home, signalling me to the social services). I had Diabolo Grenadine (the French name for a Shirley Temple, apparently).
It had been years since I hadn’t drunk something so sweet and regressive (look at the color!), but a splash of sugar could just do the trick and spur my inspiration.
Well, it did. I loved my very special writing session. Loved it so much that I had to share a picture (I’ve just learnt how to use my fancy phone). I hope that I get the chance for another Shirley Temple (oops, writing session) in a café soon. I just have to wait for the right alignment of the stars. Or start trying to move the planets myself.