Juliet, Mike and twenty four other words in a bar.

I know I said at the outset that this would be a food blog and I promise you that most of the writing will be. However today I’m going to ask for your indulgence as I share a piece that isn’t.

Starting a blog and writing regularly was something that I’d thought about for a very long time. It was always on my ‘to do’ list but somehow never happened. The catalyst that finally pushed me into it was taking a creative writing course. The course was based around memoirs and life experience and although I was tentative to begin with I quickly found that I was enjoying it and relishing the opportunity to share what I was writing with others. Even on a memoir course I managed to weave food into most of my writing and there was never really much doubt that was going to be the main theme of my blog. Since I started I’ve loved every minute of it and now find myself getting quite frustrated if I can’t find the time to write something.

As broad a category as food is though I don’t want it to be a limit that stops me from writing other things. A chance to write something different cropped up recently when my friend Alison Tyler put a writing challenge on her blog.

Alison’s challenge was to write a story that included every word from the ICAO alphabet: 

Alfa, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo, Foxtrot, Golf, Hotel, India, Juliett, Kilo, Lima, Mike, November, Oscar, Papa, Quebec, Romeo, Sierra, Tango, Uniform, Victor, Whiskey, X-ray, Yankee, Zul

this is my story.

Juliet, Mike & twenty four other words in a bar

A late November Monday night, a bar.

A low kilo-watt sign that barely shows.

The sort of bar where the staff are uniformly not in uniform.

“It was a Pisco Sour”

“I’m sorry”

“It was a Pisco Sour. That Peruvian drink we both fell in love with at the hotel in Lima ”

“It may have been but all I remember about that night is whiskey”

Juliet is French, speaks with a Quebec accent.

Mike loves that accent, French with a yankee echo.

The jukebox playing, Joe Cocker’s Delta Lady, the Temptations Papa Was a Rolling Stone.

Some nights they dance, never a tango or foxtrot though. 

Never to cries of “bravo” from their fellow drinkers.

Only been home for a few weeks, already planning the next trip.

Possibly India. possibly Sierra Leone.

Juliet thinks she’s found her Romeo.

Mike longs for Oscar though. The alpha barman with the x-ray eyes.

She’ll find out soon, but don’t worry.

There’s Victor at the next table and Charlie across the room.

They’ll both happily do the Zulu dance with her. 

Both play around with her, and I don’t mean golf.