Another brilliant piece from a GUNNAS WRITING MASTERCLASS WRITER
Disappointment. Sitting in a lump in my stomach like a heavy, undigested meal. That was the very last thing I had expected to feel, especially as this was an inspiring and motivating writing masterclass. But there it was – disappointment, sitting there and refusing to move.
The first thing I noticed when I came into the room was the crisp, white tablecloth – spotless in its whiteness – its brilliance providing the perfect backdrop. There it sat, like a promise. The deep purple and red tin of Cadbury Roses chocolates – “a delicious assortment of milk and dark chocolate”.
Yes, I thought. Someone who knows how to run a perfect workshop! Reward and encourage participants with regular injections of chocolate.
The six-hour workshop was filled with wonderful advice, anecdotes and strategies for the aspiring writer. But I could not get my eyes, or my mind, off that purple and red tin.
When was Catherine going to open the chocolates?
I started to drift off with my chocolate-covered thoughts. I recalled one of my favourite movies – Chocolat starring Johnny Depp and Juliet Binoche. I love the sensuality that the movie evoked, both implied and actual, of the taste of chocolate on your lips, your tongue and in your throat as the chocolate slides gently down. I love the way the chocolate changed the lives of the characters, from pedestrian to lives of fulfilment and purpose. I love the way that the chocolate was enhanced with a pinch of chilli and secret spices, which in turn added much needed spice to the lives of the small-town people.
Once, in a flash of brilliance, I bought the DVD of Chocolat for my best friend and I combined it with a tin of Roses chocolates, just like the one that sat temptingly before me.
The morning session of the workshop passed quickly, but Catherine neither touched nor referred to tantalising treasure in the purple and red tin.
Aaah, I thought. I know her plan! This is her secret weapon – the much-needed sugar rush in the afternoon when fatigue, both mental and physical, threaten to hijack the workshop. This is how she will keep us all on task!
Sure enough, when the afternoon session began Catherine rearranged the items in front of her, putting some to the side, others to the forefront. There in prime position sat the purple and red treasure chest.
Catherine moved as if in slow motion, and when she reached for the tin, I held my breath.
What would I choose?
I like dark chocolate best of all. Milk chocolate is fine, and white chocolate is better than no chocolate.
Caramel centre? No, strawberry I think. Perhaps a hard centre. Even a mint. It is the chocolate that is important.
Catherine seemed to struggle a little with the lid – naturally, I thought, because this was the first time the tin had been opened.
I allowed myself to breathe again as she removed the lid. I knew what I would choose. I knew that I would savour that chocolate, to its very last remnant.
I slid my tongue gently over my lips in anticipation, and I noticed an increase in saliva as my mouth prepared itself for the pleasure it was about to receive. Then my eyes widened in disbelief as Catherine reached into the tin and began to remove all manner of objects – a bangle, scissors, paper money of various currencies and denominations, key rings, a corkscrew, a screwdriver, nutcrackers, bottle tops, a pack of cards and other miscellany.
NO CHOCOLATES!
I felt my body droop in disappointment. My shoulders sagged, and my mouth instantly went dry. A loud groan of disappointment escaped my lips – much louder that I meant it to be. Catherine looked up at me quizzically.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Mmm” I murmured, not trusting myself to give utterance to anything more than this.
Inside my head I was screaming at her – “THERE ARE NO BLOODY CHOCOLATES! HOW COULD YOU DO THAT?”
For the rest of the day, that disappointment sat there, festering and eating away at my insides.
The workshop itself was brilliant, but the no-chocolates disappointment threatened to overwhelm me.
On my way home, I had to stop at the supermarket to buy a tin – a purple and red tin.
Then all was right with my world.