Last night, although it didn't fit in the sonnet, the group were privileged enough to experience some exclusive readings from Tiffany's newest, yet to be published novel, 'Sugar Hall', and some extracts from Nick's shows 'NHS The Musical' and 'Korczak'. However, night drew closer and the scene changed.
As I 'awake from my imagination's gas-lit parlour' of a morning, I now write. After breakfast, our sessions with Nick and Tiffany involved portraying stories through different mediums and stepping into the shoes of the characters we had prepared the day before.
As I 'awake from my imagination's gas-lit parlour' of a morning, I now write. After breakfast, our sessions with Nick and Tiffany involved portraying stories through different mediums and stepping into the shoes of the characters we had prepared the day before.
After lunch, a bizarre yet wonderful moment overwhelmed the house; everybody was writing. Despite all the writing being different styles, there was an otherworldly connection between each writer.
By the evening, poet Adam O'Riordan had arrived. After dinner, we sat and listened as Adam, 'a natural under the spotlight', read from his collection as we sat around the hearth, a 'dark heart nested in the bowels of the house', before settling for a session of question that still go on as I write; he's a interesting bloke. I should stop writing now, as Adam's free and I need to ask him about the length of 'Painted Eggs'.
Signing off,
Reuben Austin
Reuben Austin
