> Thanks, Matt.



> Lähettäjä: "Merritt, Matt - Leic. Mercury"              <[log in to unmask]>
> Päiväys: 2004/03/29 ma AM 11:13:42 GMT+03:00
> Vastaanottaja: [log in to unmask]
> Aihe: Re: Soaked- Christina
> 
> Hi Mike,
> Piggy-backing on Christina's comments because for some reason the original
> sub didn't come through. I think the changes that you've incorporated work
> well. The whole thing is very evocative.
> Regards,
> Matt
> 
> -----Original Message-----
> From: Mike Horwood [mailto:[log in to unmask]] 
> Sent: 29 March 2004 09:03
> To: [log in to unmask]
> Subject: Re: Soaked- Christina
> 
> 
> THIS EMAIL HAS BEEN SWEPT FOR VIRUSES BY THE NORTHCLIFFE GROUP MAILSWEEPER
> SERVER.
> 
> > Hello Christina,
>                   Many thanks for your comments on this one. A couple of
> your recommendations have already been incorporated; I´ve ditched the first
> line and now start with, `Rain streamed down in rods from a grey sky/and
> shattered round our shoes´. I´ve also got rid of my nose and substituted
> `sticky air/heavy with the smell of wet gabardine´. Though I´m not sure that
> I really like `sticky air´ for humid and sweaty, so I´m still tinkering.
> 
> 
> 
> Best wishes,    Mike
> 
> 
> > Lähettäjä: Christina Fletcher <[log in to unmask]>
> > Päiväys: 2004/03/27 la PM 03:38:13 GMT+02:00
> > Vastaanottaja: [log in to unmask]
> > Aihe: Re: New sub: Soaked
> > 
> > I'm not sure that you need the first stanza though I like the rods of 
> > rain
> > and would be awfully tempted to incorporate that elsewhere.  I sort of
> wonder 
> > whether you might look at hazy/playground: the words feel as if they might
> play 
> > together if they were closer.  I'm not convinced that you need to say the
> > smell of wet gabardine's heavy in your nose: why not just the heavy smell
> of wet 
> > gabardine?  Gabardine's a lovely, evocative word: I'd rather linger on
> that 
> > than your nose;-)  I think this has a lot going for it and it's probably
> worth 
> > pondering on how it can be sharpened.  Secateur time?
> > bw
> > christina
> > 
> > 
> > > Soaked
> > > 
> > > It was a wet morning in `61 or `2
> > > when the rain streamed down in rods
> > > from a grey sky and shattered round our shoes.
> > > 
> > > There were jumping pockmarks on a ground
> > > where we could not separate asphalt from puddle
> > > on a day before we knew the word `torrential´.
> > > 
> > > The playground was deserted and hazy,
> > > the school entrance a frame for heaving backs
> > > pushing the blockage in front, and wet, grey socks.
> > > 
> > > The jostling mass carried me on to the cloakroom,
> > > the muggy atmosphere full of the jabber of voices
> > > and smell of wet gabardine heavy in my nose
> > > 
> > > as I squirmed and squeezed along the line
> > > of uniform navy-blue raincoats to the haven
> > > of my familiar peg, determined by my rank
> > > 
> > > in the height range of my class.
> > > Then the struggle with belt and sleeves,
> > > a residual dampness, single file, bang of desk-lids.
> > > 
> > > 
> > > 
> > > 
> > > Mike
> > > 
> > 
> > 
> > 
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