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Rathmines for almost four years and fully intended to carry on doing just that when, in March 1985, the Leinster News unexpectedly went into liquidation and, after months of looking around the city with little or no success, I was on the verge
     of becoming really worried when — quite out of the blue — I was offered a position with a small newspaper in London: the North London Chronicle. Which, at first - I won't pretend otherwise - I was quite hesitant about. It seemed such a big step with a young child and
     everything. And details of the salary were vague, to say the least. But after some time talking it over, Catherine suggested
     that I ought to take it. She had been toying with the idea of going back to college, she said, for some time. And London would
     provide lots of opportunities - perhaps it was time for us to broaden our horizons.
    To make a long story short, I called them and accepted.
    We moved to London some weeks later and initially things, I have to say, they looked really positive. But then, unfortunately,
     fate intervened and we encountered, I suppose, what you might call another small piece of misfortune. The North London Chronicle was bought out by a rival and the core staff— including me — were let go without a settlement. Initially, there was a lot
     of bellicose talk in the pub, with the union official pledging retribution and vengeance. But in the end, as I had anticipated,
     his passionate belligerence all came to nothing.
    But even then, Catherine Courtney and I remained undaunted, picking up pieces of work here and there. I spent a while on a
     freesheet in Cricklewood and Catherine did stretches in an off-licence called Victoria Wine and various cafes and bars. Then
     we discovered that if one of us didn't work we would actually be better off, qualifying both for income support and housing
     benefit. We debated it for a while but then I decided that I could work from home, submitting articles on a freelance basis.
     It worked like a dream - dropping Immy to the nursery every day, before coming home to sit down at my typewriter. With the
     result being that, against all the odds, we found ourselves now attaining an altogether new level of happiness. Something
     neither of us would have ever considered possible. Considering how contented we had been to begin with. It really was quite
     remarkable. And it made me feel so — why, just so proud. All I kept thinking was: the miraculous things that, in adversity,
     can happen to an ordinary man and woman. Just so long as they're fortunate enough to be in love. There is no happiness or
     joy that can come close to the feelings you experience in such a blessed situation. I picked up Imogen every day at the same
     time, chatting to her the whole way home. Such a chatterbox she was becoming!
    We always had great fun walking through Queen's Park, with her sucking her lollipop and me singing the theme tune from My Little Pony, shouting 'Kimono!' and 'Pinky Pie!', the names of all the characters she loved. Sometimes we'd just stop and sit there in
     the park, telling stories - but that often wasn't such a good idea. For no sooner would you have finished than she'd want
     you to start all over again. Of course it would irritate you sometimes, if you'd been having articles rejected or whatever.
     But nonetheless you always did. Once we were in the little cafe and she started sobbing.
    —What's wrong, pet? I asked her, alarmed.
    She pointed to the ground where a great stag beetle was lying on its back, as a column of ants made off with its innards.
    —Don't let the mini-beasts get me, Daddy! she wept.
    —I won't! I assured her and took her in my arms.
    She was still sobbing a little bit.
    —Miss Greene says the mini-beasts are our friends. But if they were, they wouldn't do that!
    —Mummy! she would squeal when Catherine was with us. Daddy tells stories - about the Snowman!
    She couldn't get enough of that Raymond Briggs story. She watched the video