I ran with my friends through the open spaces and the narrow lanes.
I listened to the gossip that filled Dragon's coffee shop. I listened to the stories and songs at family parties. "I grew up in a big extended Catholic family. It was a place that had everything necessary for the imagination. From our windows, we looked out towards the city that packed the opposite bank, towards the distant sea, and even on clear days toward the hazy Cheviots an eternity away. It was a small steep town with wild heather hills at the crest and the River Tyne flowing far below. I used to point and grin and gurgle as the pages of the local newspaper rolled off the machines. I don't remember it, of course, but as a baby in my mother's arms I used to visit my uncle's printing works on the narrow high street of our town. He once commented: "Maybe ink was always in my blood. Like the hero in Skellig, Almond grew up on the fringes of a Northern English city, a landscape that offered great imaginative possibilities for him as a youth.
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