The House at Sea's End

There's a pleasure being mad that only the madman knows.

Class is a stronger social adhesive than nationality.

There’s a pleasure sure in being mad,’ says Cathbad, ‘that none but madmen know.

Major Karl von Kronig,”’ he reads. ‘“Oberstleutnant Stefan Fenstermacher, Obergefreiter Lutz Gerber, Gefreiter Manfred Hahn, Gefreiter Reiner Brauer, Panzerfunker Gerhard Meister . . .” Bloody hell. No wonder they didn’t win the war with names like that. Take them a year and a half to do the roll call. What the hell’s “panzerfunker” when it’s at home?

The drive to the Saltmarsh is beautiful. The fields are white, glittering in the sun, the trees like a Christmas card. Everything ugly or utilitarian- the municipal dump, the holiday flats, the caravan selling hamburgers - has been covered with this kindly layer of magic.

He said there was no good side and no bad side, only winners and losers. He was a bit of a Leftie really. Used to write all these letters to the papers about Iraq and so on. But he read the Telegraph? Ah, that was just for the crossword. He took the Guardian too and the New Statesman.

Annoying though archaeologists can be he admires their way with a tench. His scene-of-crime boys could never get the edges that straight

We gather today to bless a child. A new life that has become part of our world. We gather today to name this child. To call a thing by name is to give it power, and so today we shall give this child a gift. We will welcome her into our hearts and lives and bless her with a name of her own.

Despite living near a bird sanctuary, Ruth is not fond of birds.

Nelson gives her a sardonic glance, correctly identifying Catholic Genuflecting Syndrome

Never trust a man who flies the Union Jack.

She hates ringing up and saying, in that special wheedling voice, ‘Can I ask . . . would you mind . . . you’ve saved my life . . . you’re a star.’ She’d rather cut the crap and do the thing herself but, as she’s finding out, being a working mother means asking for favours.

She longs to be with her baby, but when she is she’s assailed by a feeling almost of panic. Will she ever escape or will she be trapped in the mother world forever?

Are these real friends, people who would look after your cat or drive you home from hospital, or are they just an amorphous mass, happy enough to leave cute messages (lol!) on your wall but completely removed from your everyday life? How can you have three hundred close friends?

You are strong. You are a wonderful, strong human being.