Miscellaneous writings 1

April 2016

At this age one's fantasies change.  I don't imagine having chance romantic encounters.  My fantasy is about driving to a pub that's off the beaten track and meeting by chance a long lost old friend, and having a long, warm, deep conversation with him (yes, it's a him); that middle-aged "What do you think of the show so far?" conversation.

Sadly this pub is bereft of such an encounter, but it has a lot of young couples having dinner together, well three.  It's a very nice pub, full of period charm and cream, verdigris and moss green paint; very Farrow and Ball.

I now realise that the glorious chords of harp music are actually someone's mobile.  It's very tasteful.

The food arrives and smells gorgeous, and this, with a glass of Chablis is not going to cost more than the cinema ticket, glass of wine and average sarni I would have had at the Gulbenkian.

As I sit here I think about the new novel idea.  I have three ideas on the go at the moment, and I have a lot of ideas for this one, The Dog-Walkers' Book Club.  I know too very angry and bitter women, both of whom are also intermittently charming and friendly.  Neither of them can stand too much kindness and need to be put into the book. Both of them sting like scorpions when they have had enough of your kindness and are capable of turning people against you.  I recently had a conversation with a man I know slightly, explaining why he had never been especially friendly to me.  I do wonder how many people are wandering around thinking I am a complete bitch.  I suppose when they meet me and find me agreeable, they have to downgrade their assessment from "utter bitch" to merely "two-faced".  

I have also been thinking about the saintly woman with the epileptic child - she could be inserted into this too.  Maybe I should write it as a series of stories from each character's POV.  No doubt there will be more thoughts to come on this.