“Nay ... I saw something nasty in the woodshed,” said Aunt Ada Doom, fretfully moving her great head from side to side. “’Twas a burnin’ noonday ... sixty-nine years ago. And me no bigger than a titty-wren. And I saw something na—”
When the sukebind was in bud the orphaned Flora Poste, expensively, athletically and lengthily educated, descended on her relatives at Cold Comfort Farm. There were plenty of them – Judith, alone in her grief; Amos, called by God; Seth, smouldering with sex; Elfine, who needed a little polish; Urk; Rennet; Harkaway; Caraway etc; and, of course, Great Aunt Ada Doom ...
And Flora felt it incumbent upon her to bring order into chaos.
This week's book is Cold Comfort Farm by Stella Gibbons and we'll not be meeting at The Fletcher Moss on William Street in Didsbury but will be meeting online — contact us for details.
