Robin has left two strands of French fil dangling.
Robb has indeed a new biography of Hugo -- racey, a little swashbuckling,
judging by a quick bookshop persusal the other month. (I have been reading
Hugo again with my usual mix of utter dazzlement and distaste.) Alison and
Robin's postings on Rimbaud have proved helpful to me, by chance, enabling me
to refine a sentence or two on Rimbaud I had just committed to computer. So,
ta, both.
Alice and I did not bid £300, 000 for Rimbaud's ms of the lettre du voyant:
we're keeping that sum for other purposes, such as buying ourselves a lifetime
supply of spaghetti with little pots of manufactured olive sauce. Do not ask
me why, please.
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