When I heard the poems on stage (very cleverly rearranged from the published sequence, by whom, I wondered?) giving live voice to the dead wife, I had no more repressed grouchinesses.
Read More
Almost all the pages were made up when the Metropolitan Police came knocking at the door. An unexploded WW2 bomb had been found in next door Dean Street; the Soho area was being evacuated. If he’d wanted a dog-ate-my-homework excuse for any shortcomings it would have been perfect.
Read More
