So I'm sitting in the beauty parlour with my nose in Love and Summer, that I'm going to review for the Belfast Telegraph, and the Indian lady who's scrubbing my feet says: "What's that book about, that you're reading?"
I tell her: "It's a love story. Set in rural Ireland in the 1950s."
"That sounds nice," she says.
Then I tell her that the author is eighty-one.
She's very indignant. She says "That's disgusting! A man that age shouldn't be writing about love. He should be praying and waiting for death."
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