It’s my husband’s birthday today. I made him a cup of tea in bed, but since he opened his present on Sunday – a huge plastic tub that looks like it’s full of emulsion paint but is actually protein power. And he’s had his birthday meal, a Chinese in
Fareham on Saturday. It felt like a bit of a non event, I didn’t put early as much effort in or go OTT like I usually do.
So with a sitter booked we should be going to watch A Man on a Ledge at the cinema. It wouldn’t be such a hardship, I fancy seeing it myself. But a writer must make sacrifices, and why should they be their own?
My husband’s birthday treat is going to The Live Short Story Evening at Rosie’s Wine Bar in
. You get six minutes to read your story and the top three stories win a cash prize. My writers group went last year and I came second. I’m not a gracious winner and I was doing my victory dance and demanding someone take a picture of me and my loot, when one of the ladies from the group suggested I only won because the group voted for me. So although members of my writing group know and have been invited along to Rosie’s tonight, I haven’t pushed the event. Portsmouth
Plus I also know that Margaret who is an amazing writer will be there, so it will be harsh competition tonight.