When I returned to Ireland at the end of 2015, I bid farewell to my book collection. This was one of the most heartbreaking parts of leaving Amsterdam. It was a collection that had been lovingly built up over decades. Comprising of books purchased in Dublin late last century when I lived there – these had been transported at my employer’s expense when I moved to the Land Below the Sea at the turn of the century – right up to the moment of departure, There were hundreds of books involved. Continue reading The bookshelf of doom: ‘A place called Winter’
This is both a statement of fact, and the title of a book of short stories by Wexford writer Frank Ronan which was published in the 1990s. Continue reading Handsome men are slightly sunburnt
My visitor from the Netherlands left a book at my house.
This was not an accident – she actually said ‘I’ve finished that book. Would you like to have it? It’s quite good and I’m anxious to get my bags to a weight below 15 kilograms.’ Continue reading ‘Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children’