How have I missed Louis MacNeice on minor poets until now?
“The god of grump” someone called him on a FaceBook thread recently. Old Larkin, old love.
I was in Wigtown, Scotand’s National Book Town. And I have something to confess.
On Sunday evening, there will be a most unusual event. Probably unique, in fact.
Ruthven Todd is very clear about it.
Red roses for a blue lady. Staying with my mother, we listened to this song at least six times, singing along.