conversations

Kev and Book Club

Kev and Book Club

I am a bookworm. Books move me. I love the feel of them, their smell and their magic. And most importantly I love to share them. This is where my dilemma starts. I like to share my books with Kev. He will read the offerings I send to his Kindle but for some reason he is intensely secretive about which of my offerings he is busy reading. And there is no discussion about them. None. De nada. Zip. Zero. You get the idea.

According to Kev, the first rule of Book Club is that no-one talks about Book Club. How does one share a book if the other party won’t participate in all the sharing activities? I was complaining about this in roughly the same breath I was wondering how one would stretch a scene over several chapters when Kev made his point, “See, this is why we don’t have book club. I told you to read Abercrombie and you ignored me.”

He was right, of course. I once read Abercrombie and was bored out of my skull. How am I to read a 400 page book that describes one day? It might be a trap. I might wade through Abercrombie’s literature only to be reminded about the first rule of Book Club. I’m starting to suspect that the first rule of Book Club is only there to frustrate me. In the meantime I have picked up Abercrombie again. He has an interesting writing style. It seems Kev knows how to drag me kicking and screaming to the water and then get me to drink. I may buy him a horse for Xmas to see how he does with that.

Thanks to MOTH ART – Marta Bevacqua for the image.

Related Posts:

Conversations with Kev | On naming children

Conversations with Kev | On naming children

On one of our coffee breaks this weekend I was inspecting some wooden bits from Kev’s latest petrol-head project and wondered aloud about what type of wood it was.
“It’s probably Ash,” he told me.
Which got me thinking – I have always liked plant names for children. Tree names for boys and flower names for girls. The idea appeals to me. We don’t have children but for some reason one always speculates about these things. Perhaps it’s a leftover habit from childhood when one tried to picture what the future had in store.
“I would totally name my children after plants,” I informed him about a nanosecond after the thought finished crossing my mind.
He laughed at me and said, “I would call her Ethel. She won’t get laid with a name like that and we’ll have peaceful teenage years.”
I couldn’t stop laughing. Poor Ethel! There’s a reason we don’t have children. Can you imagine the child’s therapy bill?

Related Posts:

  • No related posts yet