Despite mentioning a day or two ago that I don’t write fiction, here’s another post that proves I am an habitual liar!
My name must be in a database with the Ramblers – I’ve been abroad with them three times, but not recently. Out of the blue I received an email about a short story competition they were running. I had nothing to lose but my time, so I entered.
I ran off a little tale about travelling to Rome – via Heathrow’s Terminal Five. It was an amusing (to me) story. It focused on how I was swept along by helpful souls and missed the rendezvous point. But all ended well and I flew to Rome and had a great holiday.
But there’s irony to this little memory. I’m not a happy traveller. I dream of holidays, of exploring, but I rarely go. I am a pessimistic wanderer – if it can go wrong, I know it will. So despite being able to, I rarely go abroad.
You think that’s it, that the irony is there? No, the real irony is that the story was shortlisted (but didn’t win…again) and I received some prizes. Travel and gift vouchers – for when I am brave enough to go – and a subscription to a lovely travel magazine.
It’s a beautiful publication – full of grand photos and information about almost every possible location. There’s even an article on how to deal with a riot…blend in…stay calm…
Just what this reluctant traveller wanted to know!