From the Kitchen Table……..

Well I’ve moped around for long enough to annoy myself into a change of state, but as it happens life was willing to help. Little by little I’m returning to my attitude of noticing really great things all around me.

On Monday I spotted a pottery class in the Mermaid and by lunchtime on Tuesday I’d made a mug (a bit wonky!), a hairy frog for your used t-bag (yep, I didn’t realise it either, frogs have hair), an ash tray, for when I meet someone who smokes, and a hang up thingy. That definitely changed my state!
Then on Wednesday I went to Somatics – exercise that is so slow you hardly know you’re doing it, but it’s so good and Frieda who does it is so gently with us we almost fall asleep, nice…..
On Thursday I went to book club. I’ve been going to book club for 10 years. Our book club was started more as a sane refuge. The world around you might be going crazy but at least you can count on the book club to be a place where all that’s expected is you talk about the book you’ve just read. And it’s often lived up to it’s founding charter.
We’ve weathered the storms of births and deaths, of teenagers and tots, of parents and grandparents, of weddings and funerals and not just in fiction. We’ve gained members and lost members (only to return again when things had changed and the draw of the club became too much to resist). We’ve disagreed, agreed, made salient points, made frivolous points, been annoyed, been angry. We’ve changed dates, days, but never times. We’ve discussed the benefits of Friday nights, first Thursdays, last Wednesdays (or am I imagining that?) We’ve been irritated by each other and exasperated by each other. We’ve been hurt and offended. We’ve complained to each other, we’ve complained about each other. And yet….
Something keeps this group of ten (even though we lost one on Thursday night, she’s still part of the book club and the total is always ten) very different, women coming back together again and again.
When I was little I used to go to the library. I’d search and search for a book I could read but would rarely come home with one I liked. You see I was scared to pick the books that were for my age because they looked too hard, so I picked the ones for little kids and they were too easy. I never read the classics, not even the children’s ones. By my twenties I hadn’t read a book, except for those prescribed by the Department of Education. Then I found Maeve Binchy and I was off.
Being part of a book club means I get to read what other people pick for me (everyone gets to choose one book a year). Then each month, I get to tell everyone what I thought of the book. The little girl in me is very excited that she belongs in a place where what she thinks about a book (sometimes even a hard book!) is important enough for nine other people to be quiet and listen. Sometimes she is so excited she laughs for most of the time.
I think that’s why I keep coming back to book club….because they listen and I belong….. or maybe it’s the nibbles!