’Never mind the tax,’ he says, ’just drive.’

IT IS the evening before my return to Ireland and I am sitting at the table in my sister’s apartment, eating Thai fish cakes with buttery green beans, and cloth table napkins.

“I’ll miss you when you go,” she says, filling wine glasses, “I’ve got used to you this past week.”

“I’ll miss you too,” I sigh, “your life is so... well ordered.”