Evening stars
A good day's work today. Looking again at what I have on my hard drive, and deciding to get this brushed up and sent off. Prompted by reading Jeremy and Louise's collections of short stories, I remembered I have had a couple of short stories published, and have a few more in the hard drive. I imported them all into Scrivener, my writing software to see what I have, and was surprised at how good some of them were. So I am getting myself organised to get some of these sent out into the wild.
In the evening, I dodged the rain and loped own to the Evening Star where I met Richard Gibson, Steve Cartwright, and their pal Nick for a few beers, and a young Irish guy whose name escapes me now. A cheery evening of real ale and chats about all manner of subjects. I always enjoy their company, and will make sure I do a bit more of this. Richard and Nick were drinking a third of a pint of some really strong brown beer that smelled of marmite. I had a sip of one of them, weirdly lovely.
Richard took a snap to send to Glen in Greece.
Home again, walking through the dark park, and smelling of real ale, crept into bed beside my lovely wife.
Below, not a pretty sight. Steve, Richard, myself and Nick.
In the evening, I dodged the rain and loped own to the Evening Star where I met Richard Gibson, Steve Cartwright, and their pal Nick for a few beers, and a young Irish guy whose name escapes me now. A cheery evening of real ale and chats about all manner of subjects. I always enjoy their company, and will make sure I do a bit more of this. Richard and Nick were drinking a third of a pint of some really strong brown beer that smelled of marmite. I had a sip of one of them, weirdly lovely.
Richard took a snap to send to Glen in Greece.
Home again, walking through the dark park, and smelling of real ale, crept into bed beside my lovely wife.
Below, not a pretty sight. Steve, Richard, myself and Nick.
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