My mother-in-law is in a proper book club, where they pay a lot of money each month and all get copies of the same book with a “town name book club Thursday group” sticker on it. As such, she spends most of her time reading books that don’t interest her and hasn’t quite recovered from the romantasy faery book they read in January.

My sister is in a less formal book club with a bunch of retired teachers she used to work with. Reading the monthly pick is not required, bringing a bottle of wine is. However, her arch nemesis from high school recently joined and she’s decided she can’t go back after what happened in Year 12 with her then-boyfriend Derek and this woman. They are all 52 now. (Excuse me for 36 minutes as I do a deep-dive into what Derek is up to now and call my sister to discuss it.)

I think I’m too old and grumpy to join a proper book club but here is a list of clubs I’d like to see operational in Orange:

The “I wouldn’t have gotten caught” club, where we get together to discuss which true crime documentary we’ve recently watched while gently touching our emotional-support chin hair as our husbands and children hide from our perimenopausal rage. We’ll wear Oodles and snacks will be mandatory. Optional is sharing conspiracy theories that you’ve formulated after doing “research” on the topic on Reddit.

The “My wife watches true-crime documentaries as a perimenopause coping mechanism and is starting to say concerning things such as ‘I wouldn’t have gotten caught’” club. This one is my husband’s suggestion, and I have to assume it will be held at Wenty on Schnitty Night.

The “I’m being emotionally bullied by an 11-year-old” club. If you are also “mid”, I would like to join you for a wine. We can discuss resilience strategies and share comebacks we say in our heads (we wouldn’t dare say them out loud). Crying is optional but warmly encouraged.

The “I don’t know what I’m doing in my life” club. Existential crises are shared, everyone brings a motivational poster that we pop into the fire pit, and then we play a drinking game to choose new careers. Each meeting will be overseen by one primary school teacher whose job will be to slap some sense into anyone who says, “I’ve always thought I’d be a great teacher”.

The “Rebellious thoughts I need to verbalise but would never act out” club. We can share photos of the tattoos we’d never get, our draft emails to our superiors, our draft texts to our in-laws and then the recipes we watched on TikTok but aren’t going to make. Afterwards, we head home early, take our magnesium with green tea, and plan our protein intake for the following day.

The “Hobby of the week” club. This one might be ADHD-specific, but I have dabbled in acrylic landscapes, classical ballet, crocheting, baking, quilling, archery, and have been knitting Miss 17 a scarf since she was in kindergarten. It’s currently 18cm long, which I’m actually quite proud of. Also, special shout-out to the years we all took up diamond art, paint-by-number kits, and the time we all spent a fortune on Posca pens to decorate pebbles. Please tell me it’s not just me.

The “I’ve had nine sourdough starters and killed them all” club. This is my deepest shame, and I’ve actually started telling people that I just don’t like sourdough. Not true, I am simply incompetent. This one will be held in my lounge room and will be accompanied by a cob loaf made with a normal white cob bought from the Summer Centre bakery.

Last but not least, the “I’d actually join any of these clubs and probably a traditional book club, too, because really I’m just a mum in her mid-forties searching for connection and the reassurance, I’m not a complete stuff-up” club. I’ll host, bring Woolies mud cake, Aldi wine, and your least-failed hobby. xxx