Ruby Grimshaw gets cooking for her book club

I was so pleased to hear the book club I use to attend has been resurrected. It was started up several years ago, when Richard and Judy were at their literary peak I guess, by a small group of local physiotherapists, covering Shoreham, Lewes and Rottingdean. I think the group collapsed due to members taking time off to have babies, fall ill, or, as in my case, retire. (There’s so little time for things when you become a lady who lunches.)

So when murmurings began about starting it up again I was so grateful that I was still included as an honorary member. This is wonderful because it means I will be able to meet up with those physios with whom I’ve lost contact and catch up on all the gossip.

“Our book club had turned into a competition”

The protocol used to be that each person took it in turn to host a meeting and provide the meal, while members would bring the drinks. Last month, at our inaugural meeting arranged to set the aims and objects of our club, we had no book to discuss and we were therefore free to natter, chew over the fat and, more importantly, to eat.

I have noticed over the years, with much interest and amusement, that physiotherapists are always hungry and interested in food, and always keen on exchanging recipes for new dishes – preparing and cooking them – but mainly scoffing them. They are never happier than when there is a celebration of some sort at work: a promotion, retirement or anniversary, to which they are asked to bring something for a festive meal.

So our old book club had, it has to be said, turned into more of a competition as to who could produce the best meal while discussion of the book had slowly become the least important part of the evening.

This time around, it was decided, there are just going to be nibbles and drinks while the book will be the main focus of the meeting. I am not convinced that this is going to be maintained, but we shall see.

At least this first meeting enabled me to catch up with a lot of the news, learning exactly who had got married, left or retired. I was amazed to find that our hostess now had three little boys instead of one tiny baby.

So I will now read and give all my attention to Hotel World by Ali Smith. Maybe I will just make a small quiche though, just in case someone might be extra peckish.