Sadly Miriam and her story of burnt mackerel did not win this evening but it is in the book of the shortlisted writers so that is a start. Considering the story was cobbled together from a couple of posts on here in an evening before going away in the summer it did well to get where it did.
I was by far the oldest there this evening and I got the impression that at least some of the other writers had a slightly more professional aspect to their writing.There were ten shortlisted writers in all and we were gathered together with our respective supporters (thank you Bridget & Steve – no thanks to kids who all had better things to do and no doubt are still off enjoying themselves).
We were in The Anthony Burgess Foundation and we were able to have a glass of Enderby Pale Ale which was very good.
After an introduction and a reading of poems and a short story we were into the countdown to the winner. The tension was ramped up by them having five consolation prizes. These were an e-reader of some sort. So just as well I didn’t win one of those as the fights at home with one of those in house would have the potential to be fatal.
The consolation prizes out of the way meant there were five names in the hat for the winner. As I have said it was not me. So I now know what they feel like at the Oscars and can put a fixed grin on like the next guy.
So the celebratory bottle of red wine I pulled out of a cupboard earlier in the day has turned itself into the evenings consolation prize. I will have it with a partridge that has spent 40 minutes roasting in the oven. For half that time it has been accompanied by a couple of apples from the garden, peeled cored and chopped up. They have now disintegrated and have been stirred into the juices and fat given off by the bird.
A recipe adapted from Patience Gray’s Honey from a Weed.
Before finishing I should mention two things. The post bought me this morning a copy of Elmore Leonard’s 10 Rules of Writing. He is the master of less is more. They are rules to help me remain invisible when I’m writing a book. Sounds like something to live by.
Second thing; lunch today was a small rack of mutton from the farmer’s market in New Ferry. And very good it was to.
Listening to Bob Dylan and The Band. May go on to Orange Juice.