Harold pens a reply, pops to the nearest postbox, and then decides to deliver it by hand. One day, a letter arrives from an ex-colleague of Harold’s, Queenie Hennessy. My grandmother used to polish the apples.
They remind me sharply of my own grandparents in their excessively cleaned home. He and his wife Maureen rarely speak, sleep separately and circle each other like different planets orbiting the same star. Harold Fry is a retiree living an outwardly calm and quiet life behind net curtains in Kingsbridge in Devon. So it was somewhat shamefacedly that I picked it back up again.Īnd realised what an absolute gem I had nearly missed! Then I lent it to a friend who devoured it in 24 hours and proceeded to try to talk to me about it – damn her! – and I felt like a numpty having not read it yet whilst she gushed about how much she had cried.
This book has been lurking on my to-read list for a while but has been eclipsed by work, work and work and applying for my own job again and other books and has just slid…
0 kommentar(er)
