Morning, noon & bloody night,
Seven sodding days a week,
I slave at filthy work, that might
Be done by any book-drunk freak.
This goes on til I kick the bucket:
FUCK IT FUCK IT FUCK IT FUCK IT
Wednesday, 27 October 2010
Larkin About
An interlude to the emotional turmoil. There was a big review article in one of last week's Evening Standards about a new book of Philip Larkin's letters. I don't know his poetry but there was an excerpt as something he'd written in a letter to Monica on 27 Nov 1968. I rather like it.
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1 comment:
always very pithy was our Phil
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