rupert brooke was undoubtedly a flirt and maybe a bit of a stinker and perhaps his poems weren’t the thoughts of a great thinker but his poems were the poems of a poet ..
discovered the penguin poetry of the thirties and then isherwood’s goodbye to berlin and then spender and mcneice and the rest easy I was passionate about betjeman ..
who the hell is an illegal asylum seeker, anyway, on a boat crossing the channel with his heart in his throat thinking, surely britain is better than this ..
my phone rang the only person who rings me these days is my wife and she was sitting next to me so I ignored it and carried on with what is left of my life
the only people who read newspapers now are on trains or in cafés, or over sixty in the pub sitting alone doing the crossword puzzle really, how they make any money