The Live Short Story Evening at Rosie’s Wine Bar in
! £50 prize money, lots of lovely feedback, some writing leads and yummy nibbles. Portsmouth
Yet I was so close to not bothering going. I’m convinced it’s because we sabotage ourselves. I felt so uncomfortable picking where I wanted to go on his birthday.
I hate being late. Hubby picked up the babysitter and then we sat for forty five minutes in the living room making small talk while Simon tapped on his computer. Every ten minutes I suggested that we should leave now and my husband ignored me. Finally we got in the car at 6.55, it’s a thirty minute journey into
. The parking is horrendous and doors open at 7.30. What if I was suppose to read first? I would have no time to calm down and relax. Portsmouth
The nerves started kicking in when he cheerfully asked if I had any cash. But, not to worry, we would call at a cash point. The orange empty fuel light blinked menacingly. I silently fumed, well actually I complained loudly and vigorously, but you get the general idea. So when the SAT nav had taken us to the wrong address I was ready for a row. It was obvious in my mind that my husband instead of telling me he didn’t want to go to Rosie’s had masterminded a plan to ruin the evening.
In the past I would have shouted forget it – an argument would start, and somehow we would have ended up at the cinema.
But this experiment is about breaking the pattern. I say I want to be a writer. Rosie’s is a fabulous place to go to practice that skill. My husband is always late, never as cash on him and when he drives the orange light is always on.
It was time to admit that if I didn’t go to Rosie’s it would have been because I had chickened out and I was using him as an excuse.
Best part of the evening, listening to my husband rave about how good my story was and how proud he was of me.