In 2010, on a trip to Paris, I discovered a tiny antiquarian bookshop that I visited every day of our stay. On the first morning, I asked the bookseller whether he had anything in English; he climbed his little wooden ladder and came down with two beautifully bound volumes of Gulliver's Travels — the title rolling eloquently off his tongue with a French accent. I bought them, of course. The next day I returned for another small volume and watched as he dipped his brush into the glue pot and made running repairs while we talked — me with my book-learned French, he with his book-learned English — laughing together over the books and the company.

When I asked whether he had any English Bibles, he scrambled up his ladder again and brought down an Irish Bible from 1800. Its beauty took my breath away, but the price was well beyond my budget, and I reluctantly declined. On the day before our departure, I went to say goodbye, and it was almost as though he had been waiting for me. "Un moment," he said, turning to his table. He picked up the Irish Bible and placed it gently into my hands. "I give it to you because you are a lover of books." I left that precious man's shop with tears in my eyes, carrying a treasure I still hold dear.

The Eiffel Tower, Paris.

My love for books has only deepened since. I collect with an eye for pre-1930 volumes, especially those bound in leather, and during a trip to England, I undertook a workshop in book repair at the British Library, which only endeared the craft to me further. Today I have not one library but several — my loungeroom has been redesigned to display my most precious volumes, a forty-foot sea container houses the overflow, and I am just finishing a children's library.

Books, for me, are not things to be read and put aside. They are companions, craftsmanship, history held between two covers — and I am their grateful custodian.

My husband Peter, with my new friend, the Parisian Antiquarian Book Seller.

The volumes of Gulliver's Travels, the Irish Bible and three small volumes I obtained from the antiquarian bookseller in Paris.