Food Stuff

The other day a tiny bird usually perched on top of a most sensitive literary radar flew down and sat on my shoulder. "Tweet tweet": have you heard about the latest literary sensation? No, not the smutty one. This little birdie is channelling a seriously influential publishing fat cat and apparently his novel is a winner. I’ve only read the first chapter so far. This evocative tome sets every bodily sense jigging. I can see the film. I can suggest actors. I can imagine awards ceremony sometime. Because the book's all about food and food stories are always winners.

Leonard

The Serious Writing Course (TSWC) is over. Now that I don't have to beg for Tuesday night soup and sourdough from the cafe with no food or convene with the lovely group of similarly conflicted-when -it-comes-to-writing souls, I have to make do with my man. I shove his greatest hits into the CD socket, place the headset over the ears and turn up the volume. It will be Him who gets me to the end of this book from now on, not Tuesday nights at TSWC. Anthem, Dance Me to the End of Love, Show Me the Place...

But first, let me recall for a moment, the best concert ever:-