But instead of this well and truly putting a stop to my creativity, I dreamt of beautiful poetry being read to the sound of violins and cellos, fields of lavender perfumed my dream, and I could still smell them when I woke up.
Then it came to me, one line of poetry (not lavendar related).... and here are the results:
I dream of runner beans
Creeping up canes In shades of green
Boasting red flowers and bursting pods
Twisted vines, strangling wooden rods
I dream of snapping stems
Creeping up canes And snatching them
A stolen salad in a bowl
Topped and tailed, blanching whole
I awoke to smelling salt
And hunger pangs
A tender side, with a glass of wine
A meal thought out with a dream in mind
Perhaps I'm reading too much into this, but I think I might be on to something here with the old food/poetry malarkey. Poetry was something I'd always envisaged myself doing full-time and I think after doing this food writing course, I'm having something of a Renaissance period.... we'll see!