The only clubbing I seem to do these days is book clubbing, so I was quite disheartened to hear that my book club has been dissolved. We only met once every two months, so it wasn't regular enough to become a pain and the other members were all really nice. They didn't take themselves (or books) too seriously - always a danger when you meet these literary types.
The first meeting I went to, C (Mr K-E's sister) and I didn't really know what to expect. We were a bit worried that it would be a collection of very serious readers, with yellow post-it notes stuck onto their books, ready to discuss the deeper post-modernist meaning of The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time.
We turned up with two big bags of crisps, but when someone walked in with a freshly baked chocolate and walnut cake, I thought, this is my kind of book club.
So in the last three years, we have discussed not only books but almost everything under the sun. We have met in each other's homes, in museums, in fancy restaurants, in art galleries - anywhere we could sit, have good food and a lively discussion.
It has been hard work for the organiser though and I understand why she wants to take a break from it. I notice that no-one else has volunteered to run it, hahaha.
I am toying with the idea of joining another book club that meets in our local library every month. But what if they are all a bunch of weirdos? Mr K-E says, if they are all freaks, just tell them your name is Rachel and run away. Just make sure they don't find out where we live. Eeek.
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