Saturday Night Feverish

Various Cushions posted like this a few weeks ago, so I thought I'd copy her. As part of our writers group, we do a writing exercise before we start the serious work of telling each other how brilliant we all are.

This week Various suggested we free wrote a piece on a scene that takes place over five seconds.

We had five minutes to write. This is what I came up with:

"He lifts the fork to his mouth. A piece of onion, lemming like, dives from the mini mountain of food and dies - splat - on his tie. His eyes never leave Jeremy Clarkson and that little Hammond bloke on the tv screen. I can see the olive oil slick from the suicidal vegetable spread out, across its paisley graveyard. Clarkson barks. I sigh. I'm so leaving him."

Its short, but I think I like it :)As for the writers group - as mentioned in a number of blogs we had a triumphant visit to Limerick where we showcased our immense poetical talent with the White House Poets. But less was written about the 5am drunken game of Truth or Truth that was played. Now, calm down, calm down, I'm not about to reveal anything :) But it did get me thinking about my past, and people I'd once known. People I hadn't thought about in a while came to mind. I did a little googling, see if anyone was out there. Its funny the things you find out. The most interesting possibly that a guy from my murky past has testified before the US congress. Its on youtube.

So, how should this make me feel? Am I achieving what I want out of life? Are three happy kids and one Jonathan Swift Competition win enough? Of course the happy kids bit is, but that's them, not me. It's Saturday night and soon the telly will auto tune itself back to the X Factor results.

Is that enough?