Foiled

Yesterday morning, for the first time in ages I felt enthused about writing prose. The location where I planned to feed this newfound literary vigour a café situated within a Leeds retail outlet’s sprawling malls.

Prior to satiating this need to pen, I feasted on a breakfast of marmite on toast, accompanied by an invigorating coffee. A rickety table necessitating I held down my beverage cup while spreading the toast’s butter and vegemite topping… Who says us fellas cannot multitask!

After troughing the toasted bread, and using my phone to ensure my beard was free of marmite residue, yours truly removed my laptop from its bag with a metaphorical spring in my step. 

Saying I was giddy at the prospect of re-igniting a creative spark, which for a fortnight has lain extinguished, is perhaps overegging the prevailing verve level. However, although I’d no idea what to wax lyrical about, I was looking forward to witnessing where the plotline would take me.

My initial thought for narrative content was to include this episode from a recent flight to the Algarve:-

Scene – After boarding a Boeing 737, a middle-age man (me) and my slightly younger (but she doesn’t look it 😉 ) partner were about to take our seats for a flight to Portugal. Although unfazed by flying, the fragrant Sarah quivers at the prospect of three hours without vaping.

She is not the only one shaking, though, as a nervous looking man standing behind me in the cabin aisle while we wait to be seated, complains to me “I bloody hate flying!” 

As Sarah and I squeeze into our seats ready for take-off, the edgy fella continued “I am always a wreck during take-off and landing.”

Being an empathetic fella, ordinarily I’d have endeavoured to placate this nervous Norman. However, under the circumstances all I could muster was a forthright “I feel for you Captain, but I’d appreciate it if you’d snap out of it, go up into the cockpit and fly the bloody plane… You are delaying our holiday!”

Thankfully, my harsh (although well-meaning) intervention saw the pilot head towards his cockpit berth. Twenty minutes later we had taken off and were bound for our Algarve destination.

Footnote – Before I worry individuals that there is a pilot terrified of flying loose within the UK travel industry, the above tale is fictional. However, I’d venture the whimsical epiphany, which originally roamed my neurological corridors during the real flight was worth sharing… Oh, you don’t agree!!… Blimey, you’re a bloody tough audience.

Anyhow, yesterday when perched on this mezzanine located eatery, I embarked on my ‘go to’ strategy when seeking creative inspiration – People watching. GJ Strachan panoramically scanning his surroundings, hoping a fellow diner or passer-by could inspire a jocular literary observation, or two.

Sadly, those wandering past, or seated in my vicinity, failed to produce a ‘light bulb’ moment. Sparse customer footfall robbing me of eavesdropping opportunities and physical prompts to augment the monologue.

Consequently, I pondered absurdly fictionalising ongoing events within the centre. Nonsensical fibs like a guy two tables away feeding a latte to his ventriloquist dummy. Bereft of a gullet, the wooden harlequin puppet uncouthly spewing milky coffee back onto his chromatic outfit. 

Or stretching my idiosyncratic mendacity further by highlighting a marching band had just passed below. The conductor riding a Space Hopper as he leads them through the Mall. Attempts at balancing on the giant rubber ball made significantly tougher by simultaneous waving of his baton. 

Anyhow, yesterday, prior to commencing the blog’s prose, I reached into my laptop bag to retrieve my specs. Much to my chagrin, I had left them at my apartment. Consequently, I had the option of wearing my prescription sunglasses (which I had driven in), allowing me adequate vision to write, or abort the literary mission.

With my days of being overly self-conscious about ‘making a show of myself’ diminishing in middle-age, ordinarily I would have just donned my sun gigs indoors. However, with the glass roof showing solar rays had disappeared several minutes ago, and fearing I’d look a complete idiot (or mistaken for a blind person) with my caffeine infused peers, I abandoned my trip.

Closing my laptop, I finished my coffee and headed towards the retail outlet exit, and onwards to the car park. My opportunity to wax lyrical spurned from my failure to take suitable day to day reading wear.

Having forgotten to take my sunglasses off, once outside under grey cloud cover, mistaken as someone partially sighted, a fellow customer linked my arm and guided me across a crossing… Only realising their mistake when I jumped in my car and drove off!