Been a while since I’ve written anything on here. Or, for that matter, written very much at all, which is why I recently signed up to Start Writing Fiction, a free online course provided by the Open University in conjunction with Future Learn.
Behold: my first piece of proper writing in quite some time.
Why ‘Never Be Lonely’? Because we were told to use the first thing that we heard on the radio as our inspiration, and Chris Evans gave me this… a tad shoe-horned to fit my ‘allocated’ theme, but I think it just about works:
Almost ten past seven.
That wasn’t good.
Alex shoved her phone back in her coat pocket and quickened her step, willing her just-beginning-to-cramp calves to keep going; the weather-worn stone animals peering down from their perches on top of the old castle wall to her left as if in collective mocking scrutiny.
Her surge (if you could call it that) was interrupted by a pedestrian crossing. Alex was grateful for the excuse to rest for a few moments and wondered, not for the first time, if she’d been a tad optimistic in trying to squeeze a choir* performance on one side of town into the same night as a dinner date on the other. A sensible person would surely have driven straight home from work, carefully chosen their outfit, ordered a taxi and already be at Giovanni’s by now.
A sensible person probably wouldn’t have driven straight from work to the Swalec Stadium in rush hour traffic to sing for thirty minutes, thrown a smart-ish green cardigan over the same black top and trousers they’d been wearing all day, decided to leave the car where it was and be stood in the cold on Castle Street right now, running really rather late.
At least it wasn’t raining.
Alex managed to make it inside just before it got too torrential and scanned the tables for someone bearing a resemblance to Ryan’s photo. Seeing no one obvious, she let a waiter show her to a table, tucked away in a softly lit quiet corner away from the din of the work nights out and hen parties, and ordered a Diet Coke. She angled her chair so she could see the entrance, torn between desperately wanting to dry off in the Ladies’ and not wanting to miss Ryan when he turned up. She went with staying put and took out her phone, both to pass the time and to take her mind off the increasingly pterodactyl-esque butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach. She hoped this one would be worth it; her history in the dating department had been dubious at best. Harley ‘the Hopeless’; Mark ‘the Claustraphobically Clingy’; Sam ‘the Man Who Had Turned Out To In Fact Be A Woman’…
Actually, that had turned out to be a pretty fun evening.
Alex checked the time. Almost eight. He’d better turn up soon. She was getting hungry now.
Alex sat back, stuffed. It hadn’t been a bad night, all told. She’d no idea what Ryan thought, given that he’d never bothered turning up. (Not even a text? Really?) Still, there was no time to get indignant about that now as she had Sam’s birthday drinks to get to that it turned out she’d be able to make after all.
As she left the restaurant, her not-yet-fully-recovered calves already registering their complaint, Alex couldn’t help smiling. She might not have had the night she’d planned but, with friends like hers around, at least she knew she’d never be lonely.
(*Yes, of course I was going to get choirs in there somewhere.)