Yesterday I attended a reunion of the book club I helped found in 1965. The book club continues, and the book under discussion was Per Petterson’s I Curse the River of Time. I very much enjoy Petterson’s books, and indeed many of the chilly books of the Scandinavian writers, but it is ironic that this book of lonliness and the failure of emotional ties was the topic among a group of women friends meeting over tea and cake while rain fell on the verdant garden outside the windows.
The club membership has shifted over the years, but all of us could look back over the river of time we each have swum and been generally happy – while admitting that there may have been dangerous rapids from time to time. We are all women of “a certain age’, no one gets to this point without having experienced sorrows, but we are all fortunate to have many joys.
I enjoyed the view of this charming gazebo from the window, but just before we left I got a tour of Audrey’s dripping garden and got to peek into the windows where other meetings of the book club have met.
Did you miss a lawn? I didn’t.