I always thought that I’d have a handbag when I grew up. In secondary school and college, I would think about my adult handbag and its contents. It would have one of my small mirrors, safety pins (can one go anywhere without them), wallet, lip balm, my copy of ‘The Little Book of Calm’ for those more trying moments. a neat little diary… No matter what life threw at me, there would be something in my handbag to help. (I think J.K. Rowling must have felt like this too- remember Hermione’s bag in Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows?) Continue reading “In the Bag”
The wind whizzes past my cycling helmet on the way home from the gym. Two Angelus bells ring- one lower, one higher, out of synch, from the convents on opposite sides of the road. It is a comforting sound.
In a few months it will be dark at this time, and my sunglasses (hardly necessary today with the burgeoning cloud) will be replaced by flashing bike lights.
For now, my socks are rolled down, leaving a strip of bare ankle between my leggings and my trainers. The cool breeze on these few inches of skin is the best that summer has to offer me today, and that’s OK.
“We live here, beneath the ground like cadavers, and carve streets into the terrain, then we name them and erect signposts to give us the illusion that we remain part of a common humanity.”
John Boyne has an easy-to-read style, even when writing about something as brutish as the battlefields of World War I. Continue reading “The Absolutist- John Boyne”
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