Fionnuala, my wife, loves reading. I sometimes think she’s pretending because she reads so quickly, but every now and then she will leave a book at my bedside table, muttering “You might like this”, and I will plod through it for months and never shut up about it.

Sophie’s Choice, The Kite Runner, The Cellist of Sarajevo. And the latest one, Life of Pi.

In it the narrator is trying to write a novel when an old man in a tea shop says he will tell him a story that will make him believe in God. And he does.

Well, I have one as well.

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It all began when a serious Genghis called round to ours one Saturday and spoke quietly to Fionnuala in the kitchen. As he left, he glanced at me through slitted eyes, and I looked with a sense of foreboding at Fionnuala. “Genghis needs a wee bit of help,........

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