The Moving Finger Writes… Tennyson was the pick of the romantics; he always seemed to be able to chuck a bit of mythology and tragedy in the pot and knock up a winner. It’s not generally known to my selective pool of readers, but, as a lad, I did pen the odd verse. Not your dead Sheila’s regatta stuff, more gut wrenching angst. I wasn’t published so those rummaging through second hand bookshops, hoping to stumble across a copy of these gems, are doomed to disappointment. I regarded these early outpourings as... Read More![]()
