‘When the Rudyards cease their Kipling, and the Haggards ride no more…’ was a favoured line in the era of post Imperial breast-beating, when this voluminous and best-selling writer, both in verse and prose was [more…]
All his life Boris had his eyes On winning that most glorious prize, The golden key to Number Ten, The greatest goal of powerful men. A chubby lad at a posh school, His one ambition [more…]
Most of us, if asked, would be able to name a fair number of WW1 poets and writers without too much hesitation. Wilfred Owen, Siegfried Sassoon, Edmund Blunden, Robert Graves, Rupert Brooke, Isaac Rosenberg – [more…]
‘Was Blake right? What do you think, dear?’ I was a bit nonplussed by this, since we’d been talking about how ever more pricey things had been becoming lately. ‘Blake?…’ ‘Yes, dear: “Milton was of [more…]
Whilst listening to some 70’s era music – the time when music demanded competence – I came across a track by Traffic. I listened and remembered hearing it many years ago and that it was [more…]
Both English and, to a much greater extent, Scottish and Irish Gaelic are full of words spelt very differently from the way they are pronounced. These are ‘archaeological’ pronunciations reflecting the way the language [more…]
I’m not at all sure now how we got on to the subject of birds, but I was talking (I can hear her now, ‘To, dear, not with: the Americans get so hopelessly confused about [more…]
Set thirty years in the future As I reclined upon a heavenly cloud, Imbibing a celestial Chianti, I heard a voice crying my name aloud; ‘Twas Virgil in his toga, calling, ‘Dante, There’s work to [more…]
My Dear Friend, Miss. Pronter, has forgiven, but hardly forgotten, my betise in allowing some of her verses to be put forward here, under a mangled version of her name (‘You claim to be a [more…]
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