Penny & the Halfpenny Bridge

Hello again. I have just come back from ten days in Ireland. The first weekend we spent in Dublin, where we revisited The Winding Stair Bookshop at the north foot of the Halfpenny Bridge, once known as a famous writers cafe.

Writers - or anyone - could, for the cost of a coffee, pose enigmatically in the slanting light of one of the upper windows, knowing the famous footbridge would appear in the background of the photograph. Presumably, once snapped for posterity, they could then search for their works among the many shelves. The place had a definite if slightly faded and rambling charm. Posh it was not.

Now the premises has now been split. There is a smart restaurant upstairs with all the window tables reserved. Any impoverished writer will have to pay out somewhat more for their refreshment than once upon a time. We got a last moment early evening table, but unfortunately chatted so long that we were asked - politely, apologetically - to leave halfway through our pudddings as the 7pm table sitting had arrived. So not quite the relaxed mood of the past, although the food was good enough to think of going back. Sometime. Someone there might have been Maeve Binchy. Or not.

Downstairs The Winding Stair bookshop has risen again, piled with a splendid collection of books. I'd just finished The Secret Scripture by playwright Sebastian Barry. A sad tale, centred around an account of the early life of a woman committed to Roscommon asylum years before and full of the familiar tension between clergy and people. Although there was something about the book as a whole that didn't quite work for me, in many places the writing was quite wonderful.

Browsing throught he crowded shelves, I spotted Barry's first world war novel, A Long Long Way. The young man in the shop said it was a better book than The Secret Scripture, so I bought it on his opinion. It was - as he said - a stronger book, and just as tragic. Both - though I haven't checked this out fully - seem to have grown from Barry's own family history. Anyway, thank you, helpful independent bookshop person!

Annoyingly, when we returned via Dublin there wasn't the time to pick up some of the other titles I'd mused on during the week. Our lovely car passenger and her luggage were now all on ther way to Toronto so there'd have been no end to the books I could have fitted in.