God, I've missed that woman.

We met at Caff� Guido, just like we did last summer and the summer before. But this time, instead of reading and critiquing our poems, E showed me pictures of camels and camel races, Arab men in long, white shirt-dresses and her new friends. And then, more camels. E took a lot of pictures of camels when she first moved to the UAE: she says she's gotten over it now.

I met E before I met Isodora, before Isadora moved to Milan. And when Isadora started the writing group, E and I were at the first meeting, which surprised us both.

E mainly wrote poetry for the writing group, as did I. She is a very good poet indeed. So is Isadora, but E's "style" is closer to mine, as is the way we look at the world and at poetry itself. What's more, she is good at critique. When she moved, a vital part of our group died, I think. Isadora, who founded it, was the heart and soul of the WG. But E, I think, was the brains. After she left, I found the WG less productive, the critiques less useful. Eventually, I wrote less and less poetry, went to the meetings less often.

Of course, there were other factors involved. I was on the Board last year, and had more meetings, more functions to attend, plus writing the newsletter and the text for our new website. I started lessons with my Italian tutor twice a week. Isadora's pregnancy progressed, and after she had her daughter, I never went back.

This was due, in part, to WASP woman's... Well, personality. I've written about her before, but I will reiterate her bossy nasal voice and my profound ennui at hearing about the trials and tribulations of WASPhood ad nauseum. Without E to act as a buffer, she ran all over sweet little Isadora with her big WASP shoes. I wasn't all that fond of some of the other new members Isadora recruited after E left, either, but mercifully I didn't stick around long enough for them to really get on my nerves.

But, mainly, I just missed E.

And I haven't written any poetry since. I have a great big handful of publishable stuff, but I'd like to have more before sending out a periodic big mass-mailing. But when it comes to poetry, as much as I love to write it, I'm lazy. I need deadlines, to be forced to produce.

I needed the WG to get my ass in gear.

And now that I don't have it, my ass is stuck firmly in neutral.

After the talk of camels and food and the souks, as the coffee drinkers left and the lunch bunch filled the tables around us, we talked about our poetry and the WG.

E hasn't written much either. In fact, I may have done more since I went to the WG pretty often last autumn. We talked about what we liked and disliked in writing groups, what we wanted to get out of them, aside from the inherent enforced writing discipline.

E has decided, now that she's settled in to her sandy new home, at least for a while, that she is going to start a WG when she returns to Abu Dhabi in the fall.

And I have resolved to try and find one in Lisbon. Failing that, to start one myself.