Visitations

Had PB here last weekend for words and pitchers @ the Coach & Horses, patchy Portuguese nosh @ Angelos, and a disappointing denouement in the cricket.

This w/e, it's dear old Dad staying. His only requirements: unfettered access to the British Open golf coverage and half a dozen meals a day. Seriously, the man has the metabolism of The Flash.

On the 27th-28th, AP will be at mine. We're going to WWE Raw @ Allphones Arena, plus a DWCA gathering guest starring Ian Cullen (Ixta in "The Aztecs").

Because none of that's any real use to 98% you, allow me to reproduce a wonderful poem about Roman-occupied Britain.

--

"Roman Wall Blues" (1937) by WH Auden

Over the heather the wet wind blows,
I've lice in my tunic and a cold in my nose.

The rain comes pattering out of the sky,
I'm a Wall soldier, I don't know why.

The mist creeps over the hard grey stone,
My girl's in Tungria; I sleep alone.

Aulus goes hanging around her place,
I don't like his manners, I don't like his face.

Piso's a Christian, he worships a fish;
There'd be no kissing if he had his wish.

She gave me a ring but I diced it away;
I want my girl and I want my pay.

When I'm a veteran with only one eye
I shall do nothing but look at the sky.

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