Maybe it was the promise of food and drink. Maybe it was the knowledge that everyone would be there. Maybe it was the thought of exchanging belated secret Santa books with others.
Or maybe it was simply the fact that Kevin is entering his second decade that ensured all the devotees came a-worshipping last night to the holy temple that is this entertaining book club.
Whatever the reason, it was a full house. The Belfast Blonde, the Lovely Radiographer, the Doctor of Psychology, the Wine Writer, the Botanical Artist, the Aussie Solicitor and LCM. We lost the Accountant-turned-Nutritionist late last year - figuratively speaking, of course - as she decided that participating in the meetings without (hardly) ever reading the books was akin to buying a Louis Vuitton handbag but never using it.
Of course, we did tell her that our standards are so low that her mere presence was sufficient to lift the tone, but she was having none of it.
So there is a vacancy should anyone be interested.
Terms and conditions do not apply, although living in London or surroundings would be an advantage. You must also be prepared to have a number of ravenous and cackling women descend on your home at least once a year, scare off the neighbours, wake up any sleeping children, and eat and drink your larder clean. Free of charge.
The upside is that you get to return this favour a number of times before it is your turn to host again.
And to the book. The last choice received a universal thumbs-up. Even from those who had not read it yet. Meaning that our enthusiasm was so contagious that some individuals were chanting the "I-will-definitely-read-this-now-on-holiday" mantra despite the size of the tome being enough to put any carry-on luggage over the legal limit.
LCM admitted to devouring this book in audio version in the car, during the weekly commute.
"That's cheating!" the Kevinettes intoned. Possibly, but at least I finished it. Even if it did mean spending slightly longer than necessary sitting in the office car park waiting for a chapter to conclude, more than once.
Not sure what the security guards thought I was up to. But then again, I know they have better things to do than watch me on CCTV.
Or do they?