My Mother was a great reader. In fact both my parents were.
Every Saturday morning we’d get into the Austin and be driven to the local library.
All of us would come home with a pile of books, plus Mum would get the latest magazines such as Home & Garden, Vogue and Dad would have Saturday Evening Post with Norman Rockwell on every cover and my brother would get Popular Mechanics.
We loved it.
Apart from alI the Enid Blyton books, I remember reading every ‘Twin’ book – the American Twins, the French Twins, the Spartan Twins and so on.
My Mother had favourite authors and she’d read everything they’d write, and tell me about them.
In 1958, The Greengage Summer was published. One of many books by Rumer Godden.
I remember reading this quite adult book and being utterly fascinated by the 5 children taking care of themselves in a French Hotel in Epernay the Champagne district of France.
Their Mother was ill and in hospital and their stay in the small hotel of Les Oeillets meant they were a bit of a bother to the owner, her lover, and the other staff.
Not everything was as it seemed though, and much intrigue and growing up took place in the orchards bursting with ripe sun sweetened greengage plums.
My imagination ran riot.
I wanted to go to France and live that way.
It would be a while. I was only the age of the eldest sister and lived 12,000 miles (no metrics yet) from any place like that. But I could dream.
It was the beginning of my passion for travel. For knowing how others live. Their cultures and traditions and their foods.
I love knowing what makes people the way they are.
I recently remembered The Greengage Summer and decided to order a copy online.
It doesn’t have the beautiful and evocative illustrated cover now, so I’ve recreated my own version. I cannot find any info on who did the original.
I’m completely absorbed again and wishing to be there in that sun drenched orchard and eating those greengage plums.
In May next year, in the South of France, I will find a place for my sketchers and I to picnic. We’ll lie there in the shade of the orchard trees, listening to the babbling brook, eating freshly picked, figs, pears, plums or whatever, and dream.
Thank you Rumer Godden.