A couple of Saturdays ago, a friend invited me to the second anniversary afternoon celebrations of a bar, that I had never heard of, in town. I’m not really a pub sort of person. I don’t like crowds. I don’t like loud places. I don’t like dark places. I don’t like places I have never been to before. I spend a lot of time planning when I go out. There are lots of “what ifs?” questions that need answering, and scenarios that I have to prepare for. It takes a lot of energy and efforts, so everything I do has to be worth it. I had already decided when I woke up that morning that my motto for the day was going to be “Just f*ucking do it”. I had spend all summer researching stained glass windows workshops. But didn’t even get as far as emailing queries. I just wasted hours on anxiety. Months of asking myself questions that didn’t matter. Wondering which course I should choose; thinking of different scenarios for how I would get to the various locations on offer, and which dates would be safest, and how many people would be in a class, and “what if something happens?”. I try to predict the unpredictable. Exhausting. But that morning I booked onto a 2 day glass art workshop. I emailed the artist. Paid the invoice. Booked the trains. It was that simple.
So when my friend asked me if I was going to go to the pub that afternoon, at first, I was reluctant. But then she said the two magic words. There would be screen printing there, and apparently the doughnuts on their Instagram looks pretty amazing. Along with an inner voice screaming “just f*cking do it”, art and cake will get me anywhere, anytime.
On the way there I ran thought the usual scenarios in my mind. Wondering where I should get off the bus (a stop sooner than usual), and what if I couldn’t find the place (its down a small side passage way), and how crowded was it going to be (turned out most people stay at home when its pouring with rain). All strange things to worry about when we have the World Wide Web, and various means of contacts constantly at our finger tips…but what if…? I had the perfect excuse to change my mind and head back home. I got soaked. Any excuse would have done though. After deliberating which doughnut (mixed berry jam, or honeycomb and custard) to get from the Wild Loaf bakery, next door to the bar, we chat, and ate, the afternoon away. I would say that honeycomb doughnut is pretty good. Now, it takes all my will power to not get off the bus a stop early.