Writing Exercise
Jun. 12th, 2006 11:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tefnutJohn Hewitt’s Writing Update 06/12/06
Today's writing prompt
Write a description of what you believe would be the ideal restaurant, pub, bar or other meeting place. Write the description as if the place actually exists and you are a visitor or regular there.
The avenue looks too bright, too recent for that kind of house. The main entrance, a heavy wooden gate, leads to the restaurant, but that’s not where I want to go.
I turn round the corner and go down a few steps, letting the street swallow me. While I grab the brass knob, I notice the grey timber door would need some fresh paint. It doesn’t matter. I push hard : the door cringes. I walk inside.
It’s so fresh ! I take my sunglasses off. I have to blink a few times to adjust to the dim light. I’m early : I am the first customer. The bartender nods a quiet salute.
I drop my jacket on a chair. Nobody seats on that chair anyway, because it’s so close to the wall -- and that wall’s made of rough, irregular stones. Previous owners have dug small niches in it. The bartender uses them as shelves for his very own Lars familiaris : relics from Scotland, the country he loves. These relics can be anything from glasses of whiskey to giant axes, and a picture of his wedding.
I leave my mandolin on the smallish scene in the corner, and I go sit on my favourite stool, close to the brass hand pumps. I’m here to play music tonight. While I wait for the others, the bartender pours me a Killian. I drink it in long, lazy sips. Foam covers my upper lip.
Other people come in, and the band leader. After having exchanged a few bad puns with the bartender, we start setting up the sound system. By the time we’ve tuned our instruments, the rest of the band has arrived. We play bits and pieces of songs until we’re satisfied with the sound.
We have another drink ; it’s sparkling water for me, this time. Soon the place is bursting with people : old men, students, lone women, 40-something… The ceiling is so low, the corners so small, that the pub still feels intimate. A young couple is kissing here, a married man seduces his wife all over again there, three men play darts.
It’s become hot suddenly. We start playing, and we forget everything.
Ooooh, that exercise brought up nice memories... This description isn't completely accurate, but it's based on a pub I used to go to. It's been bought back by someone who's changed it into a clean, trendy place. Yuck.
Today's writing prompt
Write a description of what you believe would be the ideal restaurant, pub, bar or other meeting place. Write the description as if the place actually exists and you are a visitor or regular there.
The avenue looks too bright, too recent for that kind of house. The main entrance, a heavy wooden gate, leads to the restaurant, but that’s not where I want to go.
I turn round the corner and go down a few steps, letting the street swallow me. While I grab the brass knob, I notice the grey timber door would need some fresh paint. It doesn’t matter. I push hard : the door cringes. I walk inside.
It’s so fresh ! I take my sunglasses off. I have to blink a few times to adjust to the dim light. I’m early : I am the first customer. The bartender nods a quiet salute.
I drop my jacket on a chair. Nobody seats on that chair anyway, because it’s so close to the wall -- and that wall’s made of rough, irregular stones. Previous owners have dug small niches in it. The bartender uses them as shelves for his very own Lars familiaris : relics from Scotland, the country he loves. These relics can be anything from glasses of whiskey to giant axes, and a picture of his wedding.
I leave my mandolin on the smallish scene in the corner, and I go sit on my favourite stool, close to the brass hand pumps. I’m here to play music tonight. While I wait for the others, the bartender pours me a Killian. I drink it in long, lazy sips. Foam covers my upper lip.
Other people come in, and the band leader. After having exchanged a few bad puns with the bartender, we start setting up the sound system. By the time we’ve tuned our instruments, the rest of the band has arrived. We play bits and pieces of songs until we’re satisfied with the sound.
We have another drink ; it’s sparkling water for me, this time. Soon the place is bursting with people : old men, students, lone women, 40-something… The ceiling is so low, the corners so small, that the pub still feels intimate. A young couple is kissing here, a married man seduces his wife all over again there, three men play darts.
It’s become hot suddenly. We start playing, and we forget everything.
Ooooh, that exercise brought up nice memories... This description isn't completely accurate, but it's based on a pub I used to go to. It's been bought back by someone who's changed it into a clean, trendy place. Yuck.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-13 01:16 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-13 08:10 am (UTC)I miss that pub. It was great. The new one is clean and tidy, it's lost its soul.