Welcome to my adventures and experiments in creativity. Where writing is like running: sometimes I know where I'm going, and sometimes I see where the mood takes me.

Thursday, 12 May 2011

Going To Monaco

I shouldn't feel the need to archive literally EVERYTHING I EVER WRITE on this blog (should I?), but this morning I entered a competition through Facebook, with a prize of attending the Monaco Grand Prix available to the winner (along with an obligation to report/blog/take pictures about the experience while there). On the off-chance that I ever win one of these sorts of competitions one day, it always seems a good idea that the blog chart the troubled birth of such success, so here for the record is my brilliant/execrable entry for this particular competition:

"A man sits at his desk, gazing out of the window at leaden skies, and his mind drifts from work.

It drifts to the sun-drenched, perfect-blue skies of the Mediterranean Sea. More importantly, it imagines the thrilling scream of V8 engines. Imagines Vettel, Alonso, Hamilton et al nudging Armco barriers with precision that shouldn’t be possible in cars capable of 200mph. And imagines the most open racing Formula One has seen in a long time playing out on narrow, barrier-lined streets that have barely changed in 60 years.

His fingers itch, wanting to dance across his keyboard and describe this sport-like-no-other to anyone and everyone who will listen. Unlike his enthusiasm for writing YET ANOTHER report, his dedication to watching the drama of Formula One, including the Monaco Grand Prix, unfold on television has never dimmed in over 15 years.

But television is not the same as being there.

He has been to the British Grand Prix at Silverstone. And he has written about driving a Ferrari 360 around that equally famous racetrack. Never, though, has he been able to live the Monaco experience. Never had the opportunity to experience it and bring it to life for the benefit of those people who, like him, assume they will never get the chance to visit that tiny principality in the south of France.

Have you seen how rich the people there are? There’s no way he will ever get on one of those yachts!

A brief but heavy shower of rain comes and goes while the man surveys the typical British spring day unfolding outside. Deciding to put off his work for a few minutes longer, he resigns himself to this dream – the dream of spending one completely untypical spring weekend at the heart of the most compelling sport on earth – being an impossible one and turns back to his computer.

He logs onto Facebook, and decides to see what is happening in the world…"

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