The memories that prompted my property investment
I saw it in the window of a local charity shop for some time before the desire to purchase it overcame me. It was more than €100, which seemed pricey for a childish fancy - but then a charity shop is a good cause, after all. I murmured the old Irish adage: "What's for you, won't go by you". If it was still there after a little while, I'd go in and purchase it. And so, on a bleak Monday afternoon, I did.
A doll's house. A large, mansion-type doll's house, with a sloping roof and darling bay windows. As I was in the process of purchasing it I felt the need to say to the man behind the counter, "Strangely enough, it's not for a child - it's for myself."
"You'd be surprised at the number of ladies of your age who buy dolls' houses for themselves," he replied. "After all," he continued, oblivious of our current protocols against gender-stereotyping in toys, "grown men play with train sets, don't they?"