One of the big up-sides of delaying the release of Rosy Hours until next year is that it gives me ample time to get stuck into another novel, so it shouldn't be so long between releases. A horribly practical concern, perhaps, yet you can't help but consider these things, especially as it's taken so long to settle on a new project.
Some say my father was the god of the sea, one of the Tuatha Dé Danann who walked these green shores before the age of man. Some say he shaped destinies and carried the dead to their final resting place.
I cannot say whether that was true, for time casts strange shadows. To me he was just a man, with all the faults and failings, all the love and loyalty, of a man. He was my father, and I have loved him always.
Here we go again...
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