Call me an optimist if you will but, when the slutty looking young blonde used a four-letter word as she came out of her front door onto the pavement, my first thought was that the expletive was being directed at her boyfriend.The cat glared with black-rimmed slitty eyes at us, snarled, said something incoherent, and wagged her barely covered tail while her embarrassed boyfriend walked on ahead of her. I turned to my sister, who was in the front passenger seat of my new second hand Peugeot Cabriolet, and then to my niece Katie, who was scrunched in the back seat.

“That wasn’t very nice,” I said and then it dawned on me, “Do you think it was for him… or us?”

“I don’t know,” replied Mary, who, bearing in mind her broken leg, was by this time considering how to get out of the car.

“Oh, it was for us alright,” Katie elucidated (she has better hearing than her mum or me), “She doesn’t like people parking outside their house.”

We had more important things to do than worry about the truculent cat; we were off to Book Club. Mary hopped up the hill heroically to Reuben’s cottage, which was right at the end of a little terrace next to the church wall. I had never been to the terrace or our bookclub leader’s new house before but I was not surprised to find it utterly charming and quaint.

To be candid (not to be confused with Candide Thovex, the French skier; or candida – ouch!), I wouldn’t doubt that people think I have a “soft spot” for Reuben but the truth is that everyone has a “soft spot” for our handsome and talented leader. In fact, and to be quite frank, I’m very fond of all the bookworms (except for Mary, Katie and Liz, whom I love dearly).

There is Lynne, a dedicated reader and member of at least two book clubs. She knows Reuben’s mum and has known our leader since he was a baby. Lynne is kind and will always stick up for the underdog although she is tolerant of others’ opinions when they differ from her own; like yesterday, when Robin said he hated the book, “The Curious Incident of the Dead Dog at Midnight” (or something like that), and I agreed with him.

“I really liked that book,” said Lynne, “I felt I was in the mind of the Aspergers boy.”

“Oops,” I answered, “but that was what we disliked.” And we both laughed.

Robin Bookworm is very clever and challenging. He always comes up with something philosophical or profound to set you thinking but he may not necessarily hold the views he espouses. When he thinks he needs a hair cut I think his hair is at its best because he has nice curls like a Roman emperor. I still like him even though he hasn’t read my book (and probably never will because he must think it’s “chick-lit”, when everyone else knows that it’s literature).

Diana is a fun girl with a great sense of humour. She has read my book, loved it and could relate to it. We are similar and that makes me feel good because now I can be sure that really I am “normal” and not an alien.

Nearly everyone loved last month’s book, “The Strange Last Voyage of Donald Crowhurst”; the story about the Teignmouth sailor who faked his circumnavigation of the world by boat for the “Golden Globe Award” in nineteen sixty-eight (?). I can’t be sure of the date because I didn’t read it, nor did Mary or Katie – we were too caught up with other things and the Kindle version wasn’t “enabled” for text to speech (amazingly, I’ve grown accustomed to the Kindle voice – of an American high school girl). Recently, the actor Colin Firth was down in Teignmouth for the filming of the book, which was why it seemed a good idea to choose it for our reading.

Towards the end of our meeting Reuben passed around various paperbacks in the hope that we would find inspiration for next month’s reading matter.

“What about this?” our bookworm leader, who was sat next to me, handed me ‘Portrait of the Artist'”.

“No James Joyce thank you – my Kindle reader has been reading me “Ulysses”, I objected and the paperback quickly did the rounds without further comment.

“Okay, so what about ‘The Monk’?” Reuben tried to keep a straight face.

I took one look at the image of a monk with a tonsured pate and I pulled a face. I noted that Diana greeted the book with the same reaction.

“I know,” said Reuben as he read the back cover of another book, “you’ll love this one. It holds a very special secret – it’s the secret to what every woman wants!”

“That will do me,” I smiled and looked around the room to search approval from the other four women. “What do you reckon?”

“What’s it called?” asked Diana.

“‘Candide’ by the French philosopher Voltaire,” said Reuben.

“Tell them again,” I urged.

“It holds the secret to what all women want,” he complied, “but wouldn’t you prefer ‘The Monk’?”

“No,” said Lynne.

“Majority rules,” I said with the tacit approval of all the ladies.

That settled, we were finishing our cups of tea when Robin tapped me on the foot.

“I have an announcement of sorts. Don’t you think we should ask Reuben to play something for us on his guitar?” suggested Robin.

Our meeting ended beautifully with Reuben playing guitar, first inside, then outside in the garden. To be candid with you, without reference to any book, and without having to try too hard, our rather special bookworm leader (cum professional musician, photographer and all-round good egg) already possesses that elusive secret. Not that I have any favourites in the group, of course…