Tuesday, 21 February 2012
It's a group from the Women's Institute, that meets monthly in my local pub, to play skittles and have lunch together.
It's a gentle start with drinks at the bar (mostly tea and coffee), before two teams form in the skittle alley at the back.
The skittles and the ball are wooden and evidently well-used.
I thought they had a gnarly turnipy look.
It's an opportunity for much laughter and lively conversation, and it is all surprisingly good fun, even for the total beginner. Tricia scored a 9 with her first roll of the ball.
I proved that I have a unique skill - two of my attempts had the ball rolling off at a tangent onto the carpet.
Rules were flexible, the point being to enjoy the game, rather than to be cut-throat-competitive.
Two non-players joined us towards the end, and orders were taken for lunch. Over bacon sandwiches and baked potatoes, it emerged that of the 14 of us present, not one was originally from Somerset.
Some canvassing took place for attendees at the crafts group and the book group. There was enthusiastic support for a proposal to revive the walking group.
It all felt jolly, welcoming, heartwarming and inclusive.
What it isn't.... well, sex and drugs and rock and roll is what it isn't, if you know what I mean.
Tonight: the flower arranging club, to which I have been invited as a guest by another neighbour.
Can I survive this new life in the fast lane?
Posted by rachel at 18:13