It's been way too long since we last saw each other- you and Annabel and especially little Florence are all growing up. Do you think I'll recognise you? It has been over three whole months after all!
I've done you another picture. It is of School Green opposite the Rabbit Hole.
As you know Em, the light here is so amazing, and looking out of the Guest room window when the sun is high, I see the trees, now spare of leaf, casting long reflective shadows over the green.
Morning frosts are now frequent as we head towards the Winter Solstice when day and night are equal, and then its all about the progression towards waking up Spring again, and new growth.
I love the seasons here Em, so obvious in their eternal passage.
Most of all, I like things that happen, right under my nose.
It's probably a retail-thing, Em, or certainly a Book-Shop thing, as it is necessary to be fully 'present' each day- to listen to what you are being asked for, and try to find it- and also to the added conversation that meanders here and there.
This has been true of my Bookshop, and of The Bookroom, where I worked previously, so I'm quite used to that. But, the Rabbit-Hole, Em, is a whole new kettle of fish.
Here, I'm consistently surprised and mostly delighted by how the now combination of books work their chatter magic on customers- but add in tea, cake and gossip (not me Em, that's Sarah- she's good at that!) and a prevalence of sparkling vibrant women hereabouts- and you get all sorts of magic...
To set the scene against a fab radio 4 comedy series I've been listening to each week- 'The Fair Intellectual Society' where a group of 19th century Ladies, meet up each week under the auspices of sewing and embroidery. They are actually a rather clever lot- who do scientific experiments, study the planets, and generally work big stuff out- but can't do anything about this in general society as women were not encouraged to think.
So, each episode introduces a hapless male- for example Isaac Newton who blunders about with one of our heroines one day, and she watches an apple fall on his head.
Working out what's going on she chatters unheard by Newton.
Newton has a secret, he is Gay. Our heroine makes a bargain with him, he is to put her theory out there under his name, and she won't tell anyone that he's been seen with a fellow.
And, that's the premise for each episode, Em, a man takes the credit for one of the Ladies theories and I've been very amused.
Here, I've got my own comedy series playing out weekly right under my nose.
I've told you about the vagabonds who meet weekly for my Secret Knitting Club haven't I.
Yes, that lot who mostly bring needles, and sometimes yarn, or sometimes don't even bother with that cover, but whom collectively simply decide to meet for fun purposes, to talk, life, lipstick, and sing very loudly...
So much for the Secret Knitting Club, I did try to reign them in, to focus on knitting for garments sake, but I am defeated. They are not about knitting, at all.
And so, when another customer, sat all-a-vegan caking in the window and asked if she could run a Secret Knitting Circle- my hopes were ignited once more- visions of my past Knitting School, where Hedge fund Managers, Solicitors and Fashion students really really wanted to be shown how to turn a heel, danced before my eyes.
'We want to meet each full moon', she said and I said that was fine.
So, we met, needles and yarn came out- a dog was in attendance.
It was fabulous Em, we knitted (a bit) whilst discussing Deep Philosophy, each from a different path, but all ultimately following the same road...
So, now Em, I have two Secret Knitting Groups, neither of which is about knitting.
One day, maybe I'll get it right.
In the meantime, who am I to argue, it's all fascinating!
Enough for now ma petite, I'm off to finish baking some sourdough bread for Mummy and Daddy for the weekend.
Can't wait to show you my little mobile bookshop in my tiny little new/olde Camper-van.
She has a name of course.
Blanche Du-Vanne, and I will see you on friday, loaded up with Chrissy-pressies and books.
Can I sleep in your room Em? I don't snore.
See you then, lovelies,
Your ever-loving Grandmother, GiGi xxx
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