... how this went frontchannel, I do not know.
Actually, I do -- Kent being ever so Kent.
But in the wake of the Diana pome (it being somewhat on my mind) I asked The
Real Lady what +she+ was doing in 68. Turned out she was doing 9-12
lecturing at Hull, 1-3 pm leading sits-in at Hull, and the evenings running
a Refuge For Battered Wives.
Upstaged me somewhat dreadful.
All the while fending-off being groped by Larkin.
After all, it _was_ Hull, and Librarians will be Librarians.
Andrew Motion [Current Poot Laureat] was (prolly as well) in diapers at the
time.
(This connects -- The Real Lady being Godmother to his daughter -- and Anne
Stevenson [look, even I have some sensitivities -- 'nuff said. You WOULDN'T
want to meet her Alsatian on a dark night four-floors-up in a Glasgow
tenement.])
And Who Threw The Typewriter At Whom was never resolved.
Really. Truly.
R.
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