... for home is a magnet that lures back even its most abstracted children.

In retrospect, it seems like everything in my life led to me becoming a writer. I just didn't realise it at the time.

when you love someone you’ll do just about anything to keep them.

I probably coughed self-pityingly in response, little aware that I was about to cross a tremendous threshold beyond which there would be no return, that in my hands I held an object whose simple appearance belied its profound power. All true readers have a book, a moment, like the one I describe, and when Mum offered me that much-read library copy mine was upon me.

Time had a way of moulding people into shapes they themselves no longer recognised.

The world was an awfully large place and it wasn't easy to find a person who'd gone missing sixty years earlier, even if that person was oneself.

But in my humble opinion, a house needs a good party once in a while; remind folks it exists.