Buy me this book

By the way, I think Marco Pierre White must be some kind of a saint. I will pay him more attention from now on.

I walked into a bookshop yesterday and a young woman, about 5 foot high and her eyelids half closed, pushed me insistantly.

- "Buy me this book. Buy me this book."

I looked at her eyelids and asked her,

- "Can you read?"

- "Yes. I love Marco."

It was a hardback with a black satin finish. I turned the book over. 20 pounds.

- "It's 20 pounds I said."

- "Buy me the book."

I reflected on my predicament. On my flight, on the book I had been reading by Rinpoche. On the hand of my mother in mine as she died two days before. At my mother's small and suffering form. Now empty and waiting for for burial 10,000 miles away. And I bought her the book.

- "Did you buy it? She said.

- "Yes."

.- "What's your name?

- "Phil."

And my mother's name was Eve Hall.