It was well attended, and writers and readers alike were there to meet her.
Following lunch, Vanessa ran a workshop on a “Sense of Place”, where we were encouraged to complete a few exercises.
It was entirely productive, and I came out of the session with two ideas for further writing projects.
Here’s one of them.
The waiter brushed past me, leaving a swirl of Gauloises smoke in his wake.
I sensed he eyes my half empty glass and didn’t offer me a refill.
He started to wind back the faded blue awning into its casing. It snapped back like a cracking whip, heralding the end of lunch.
He busied himself with clearing the tables furthest away from me, allowing me a little more drinking up time.
I wanted to stay, drink on into the lazy afternoon, allowing the lilac scented breeze to lick my face.
I swirled the grenadine at the bottom of my glass, and lifting it, emptied it into my mouth.
Now it was so much warmer than when it had arrived at my table……
The other diners scraped back their chairs, screeching in an animated patois that I couldn’t understand.
It was time to pay up and move on.