The Poetry of Pablo Neruda

Picture the scene: Sunday afternoon in January, about an hour before teatime. I wandered into the sitting room and thought I’d look for a film to watch on TV.

I’d scooted through many, many channels before coming across Il Postino on Amazon Prime. I’d heard much about it, yet knew nothing. I decided to give it a try and within fifteen minutes was charmed. How has it passed me by before now?

What a delightful way to spend a couple of hours on a Sunday afternoon!

This morning, I had an hour in between finishing my swim and my appointment at the hairdresser, so I took out my phone and started my book club read for next week.

Imagine the shiver that went down my spine when I “opened the first page” (metaphorically speaking!)

Anything less like Il Postino is hard to imagine and my book group’s choice of book is sure to arouse a bit of discussion (if you haven’t come across it already, here’s a flavour) but for now, who would have thought that just one day after coming across the dear man in Il Postino, I would stumble upon the poetry of Pablo Neruda at 8.15am on a Monday morning in Cirencester?!