I used to be in a book club. Usually four, sometimes five, occasionally six, ex Lampeterians met up each month in a different London boozer and threw our thoughts about a book into the mix of beer, sarcasm, football and scoff. We chose some good novels along the way, and some shockers. Usually the book didn't delay us much, assuming we'd even read it, but sometimes we got our teeth into one. As I remember it the best conversations we had were on Julian Barnes's England England and John Lanchester's Mr Phillips, though I'm undoubtedly being biased as I picked both.

Now news reaches me that two separate (female) book clubs are doing Farewell Trip as their latest choice. In both cases the book has been inflicted upon the group by a Lampeter alumnus, which strikes me as very pleasing indeed.

And I couldn't help thinking of things people might want to chat about over the white wine and cake when talking about Farewell Trip. How about these?


#  Did you treat Ruth and Trip equally or did you find yourself taking sides?

#  Do you think Ruth ever reads Trip's last letter?

#  What happens to Ruth afterwards? Is her restaurant a success? Does she speak to Laura again? Does she settle down with someone else relatively quickly?

#  Trip says several times he was born aged 35. Are we all born a certain age?

#  Who should play Ruth and Trip in either the BBC series or the Hollywood blockbuster?

#  Why do so few people collaborate on writing novels?



If anyone is thinking of picking our book we'd love to know how it went and what you thought. In fact send us a photo! And if anyone out there wants any particular questions answered before, or as a result of, their book club just message either of us. We'd be honoured to help.

I'm not on first name terms with any author. I can only assume the successful ones live in some other place. Certainly not Shropshire. And not any part of London I inhabited hitherto. A different planet maybe. In fact, I've sometimes wondered if they actually exist at all.

Except I did have occasion to meet a writer last year. A real writer. A proper heavyweight. A friend was getting married and I was asked to do a small speech at the ceremony. On the day, it became clear my bit was to follow immediately after a certain Julian Barnes. Who was going to be reading a Larkin poem. Honestly, I felt like an open-mic comedian being told he was due to follow Eddie Izzard. Doing Tony Hancock jokes. 

Anyway, I sat near to the great man at lunch. I'm a big fan. I've read all his books and have lovingly colllected a full set of first editions. So I was tongue-tied. Luckily, Anne was there to break the ice. She told him that the only book of his she'd read was that “Cookery one, you know, something in the Kitchen”, and that “I've asked around and only about half the people here know who you are, let alone have read anything by you.” For Anne has a way with people.

Joking apart, she really does, and as a somewhat shy Booker winner warmed to her, they got to talking about getting published and how hard it was. And Julian (!) said he thought it was down to “Talent, timing and luck. In that order.” Not only does this seem equally true of gambling, but it leaves me needing a whole load of timing and a lotta luck...