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This title is printed to order. This book may have been self-published. If so, we cannot guarantee the quality of the content. In the main most books will have gone through the editing process however some may not. We therefore suggest that you be aware of this before ordering this book. If in doubt check either the author or publisher’s details as we are unable to accept any returns unless they are faulty. Please contact us if you have any questions.
The Monk stone is a real stone laying along a trail above my village in Norway. The Monks in the late 1100-1200 AD used to carry stones from a quarry outside my village to a monastery they built there.
My maternal grandfather was a farmer, fisherman, and miller who was also a great storyteller. It was he who first made us aware of the Monk stone. He would sit in his big rocking chair in our century old farm with several grandchildren sitting on the floor in front of him on cold snowy winter nights, spellbound waiting for the next words to come out of his mouth.
Were all of the stories true? At the time when I was 5 or 6 years old sitting there listening, you bet they were true.
-From the preface
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This title is printed to order. This book may have been self-published. If so, we cannot guarantee the quality of the content. In the main most books will have gone through the editing process however some may not. We therefore suggest that you be aware of this before ordering this book. If in doubt check either the author or publisher’s details as we are unable to accept any returns unless they are faulty. Please contact us if you have any questions.
The Monk stone is a real stone laying along a trail above my village in Norway. The Monks in the late 1100-1200 AD used to carry stones from a quarry outside my village to a monastery they built there.
My maternal grandfather was a farmer, fisherman, and miller who was also a great storyteller. It was he who first made us aware of the Monk stone. He would sit in his big rocking chair in our century old farm with several grandchildren sitting on the floor in front of him on cold snowy winter nights, spellbound waiting for the next words to come out of his mouth.
Were all of the stories true? At the time when I was 5 or 6 years old sitting there listening, you bet they were true.
-From the preface