Some time in March I think it was, just after I`d come home from having a large shaft of stainless steel rammed home into my right thigh bone, I found myself at the inaugural meeting of the Lit Window. Three of us, me seated comfily enough considering, in what my partner`s daughter calls `an old gadgee chair` (it reclines; the seat height is what physiotherapists call 21" when they are talking to those about to go or who have undergone hip operations, despite them possibly, or actually being young enough to have assimilated metric measurements) plus B, who`d dressed up for the occasion ( she had on big beads; I think that qualifies?) and my oppo H, with whom I`d been happy to share book talk when we met up, for many months, if not years. Was it years, dear H? Any road up, there we were, me in a natty pair of baggy track suit bottoms, plus half a pair of crutches, my `helping hand`* hanging handily and helpfully over the wing arm of the chair, in case I might have need of it, during our session.
The Lit Window ( check the link) started out as a way to discuss books we`d read, wanted to read, or were suggested as `reads` we might possibly love, hate, or bark at. That night we were discussing (I kid you not) The Reader, by Bernhard Schlink. It went down quite well as I recall, but to really recall what we made of it I`d have to get up, find the relevant notebook, and see what we voted it out of 10. This is something we do.
I love this book group. We now have 4 core members ( we have 4 members, get over it Sandra), and a lone chap who wants to be a member, keeps emailing to say he will turn up and become a member, but who has as yet not appeared in person. Our last evening together centred around Kurt Vonnegut`s Breakfast of Champions, and Sue Monk Kidd`s Secret Life of Bees. An unholy pairing if ever. Dear ol` K.V was slippery as a thing covered in hand-warmed cooking lard, and then dunked in oil. How can you vote a concept out of 10? Whereas the bee book was rather warm and fuzzy, like a bee trapped behind glass. I`m not going to give our vote on it. Read it yourself.
My hip is great! I can now, six heady months on, run upstairs, if ever I feel the need. I may post more on the whole hip replacement process, in case anyone wants to retch while sitting at their screen. Maybe this explains why I have been so lax with the blog. Yes, I think it does. I`m back, apparently.
*Helping Hand - a claw on the end of a long stick, with a trigger to pinch-squeeze said claw if wishing to pick up errant socks, sweet wrappers or bits of string off the carpet, when it is declared off limits ( by a terse physiotherapist) to bend down from the waist any further than 90 degrees.
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