So once again it is Friday. This day happens on a regular basis, but it is gone before you know it. I have a whole weekend ahead of me to think of poems for an assignment. I need one ripe with plenty of words, words that look good in any combination, words easy to use but rich in flavour. (Do excuse me I've been watching Nigel Slater's Simple Suppers).
Firstly, I thought about using Night Mail by WH Auden but I cannot induce doggerel, so I'll need another. DON'T EVER SUGGEST WORDSWORTH TO ME! What do we do when we are seeking inspiration and wandering the videoblogosphere? We go to the friend of the procrastinator; You Tube. You're lucky, it's not chicken olympics this time but something utterly terrifying; OLD RADIO SPEAKING!
Haunting bellowing tones. W.B Yeats' recordings incite fear at the very thought. I wouldn't sound so scary reading out a poem, but their voices bellow over vale and yonder, drenched in sadness and woe.
I can't type any more I'm trying to find videos of Nancy Mitford speaking quaintly on the eccentricities of her life. BRB etc.
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