I thought of you all on the weekend.
I was striding down High Street, a bottle of wine tucked under one arm, the Saturday papers under the other. I was humming to Howlin’ Wolf, and thinking about the blues gig I was going to later that night. I almost walked past without noticing it, but something made me turn.
I realised I was outside the Wesley Anne, a beautiful old bluestone pub. There were tables on the footpath, and people spilling everywhere in the late summer sunshine. It used to be a church, but for me, it would always be the place where Red Bubble came together.
I used to host the Red Bubble Writers’ Group, alongside Lisa Jewell. On the first Sunday of every month, for about seven years, I would sit at the largest table out in the beer garden, tie a red balloon to the back of a c…