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“... for Kevin and Eve When the street has gone all so quiet except for the police car that whizzes up and down at the same time every night – when the timbers jolt and the radiators click-click and the action of the clock gets ready to strike – I stumble across a blustery waste ground, a cliff face, a dozen streets of little houses, under a full moon, blinded by the light of a door that’s been left open, church bells clanging at six in the morning, the first train haring off to points west, and, from the garden that edges a misty lake, wind chimes accompany my ‘going before me’, to the terrace overlooking a splendid sea, where the kids hunt in rock pools or dive headlong into the uplit swimming pool, the smoky hills behind and beyond us nestle the rich and no-longer famous – ex-colonials on retreat and contemplatives – but in the bulky containers moving so slowly, stowaways crouch for pockets of air ...”

“... In a recent Times article, Philip Howard pounced on the deplorable word ‘Valorisation’ which seems to be trying to edge its way into the English language. ‘To enhance the price, value or status of by organised ... action’ is one of the meanings he quotes for it. Here is an example of one such usage: ‘the literary critics’ valorisation of tradition ...”

“... the turn into Westland Row, hope to bump into no one between here and the bank, especially not Gerald Dawe or Vincent Browne, who both have offices there. Nothing against them really, but it’s mid-December, no time for meeting anyone. Pass by Sweney’s Chemist. Lemon soap. Viagra nowadays, Bloom would buy. Lemon Viagra. Mr Beamish the old bank ...”