I went to another meeting of the embryo Longford Writers' Group on Tuesday. This time it was arranged we meet at a local coffee shop called Ernest Ernestos. This coffee shop has a reputation in the town of having the best coffee and is the preferred meeting place for the gentry and the literati. We hadn't ever been there, not fitting into either of those groups.
It was a pokey little place. There was a mid-size wooden table in one corner, a tatty leather lounge, four of five upright wooden kitchen chairs and several stools made from cast iron tractor seats. The de facto leader of the group had commandeered the table. I tried the lounge but I sank into its depths and struggled to get out again so I retreated to a kitchen chair.
I was the only bloke. That's alright but I prefer a bit of a balance. Maybe next time. After a couple of very uncomfortable hours, we left, promising to meet again.
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