I got the idea for this on the bus and sharing some similarities with Hemingway – like being in a city, writing stuff and being pretty poor – as well as my recent review made it seemed perfect timing to do so. I’d write it in Hemingway’s style but I favour a more descriptive angle and would probably get confused fairly easily, like the time when I was on a train and the train on the other platform started moving, my brain got really confused and I fell over in my stationary compartment much to my embarrassment and the quizzical looks of my fellow passengers.
The first thing to do – even though money is tight – is to have a breakfast regardless. The one I had was adequate but that seems like the Hem style, favouring convenience over quality when need be and the added bonus of refillable coffee tipped the balance for me. Having had five cups of black coffee, I felt suitably wired to carry on my day and walk in what I can only describe as a manic kind of waddle as I was pretty full.
Inexplicably ending up and one of my favourite haunts the bookshop, I sighed with some manufactured despair, that I would have knowingly walked here and thus have to spend money was always the intention but I could at least appear like it was coincidence….or fate. Not quite Sylvia Beach’s Shakespeare and Company, nevertheless Jermy and Westerman booksellers offer a grand selection of various genres including plenty of rare books that made me salivate.
I managed to pick up a couple of purchases as I like to do my bit for local businesses and really it would be rude not to. Now I have a history of the church from the 8th to the 16th century and how it influenced Medieval society and sticking with the same category, a revision of the history of the Near East citing Biblical and Egyptian texts.
A lingering walk around the Arboretum was called for, to wile away some hours and allow me the pleasure to think about words and phrases uninterrupted whilst nature blew away the cobwebs and all my nasty cold germs. It was a pleasant walk, taking in a nice lake, wide open spaces and a sense of calmness as the 160 year old trees blocked out a lot of the city noise.
I gravitated to a suitably Gothic place to finally beach myself and get down to the business of reading and writing. Nothing beats the atmosphere of brooding at The Pit and Pendulum that comes forth when a rock track is playing in the background as you pass dimly lit alcoves, thrones and scientific equipment, Seeking the entrance to the toilets is always fun when the door is hidden in a bookcase, something every house should have.
I chose a Kronenbourg 1664 as my generic drink of choice on the basis of it being French and carrying on my theme, the life of a writer isn’t glamorous but it does have its benefits for free thinking and wandering around, never aimlessly always with a point, even if that is to just spend time just walking without purpose. A double whisky was (naturally) had later on as I rounded off my tribute to Hem and proceeded to sink myself into a Communist utopia gone bad, he would have appreciated that I like to think.