Blunden

In the margins of a rare visit to the Salisbury in St. Martin's Lane, I paid a visit to Cecil Court, which seems to be alive and well, mainly with special interest booksellers. And outside one mainly into medals and bayonets, I came across a book of poems in a box. A snip, I thought at £5, a slim book of 60 pages -  plus the all-important dust jacket. From a time when poets were educated chaps who were interested in words.

Among the poets on the back cover we have Edith Sitwell and Ian Serraillier, which last I remember as a writer of children's books, books which I once used to read. While Oxford is represented by Messrs. Bowra and Rowse. It seems that the former was up at the same time as the Christopher Hollis on whom I shall be reporting shortly. While I had thought Rowse a Cambridge man, being fairly sure he once came to talk to the history society at my school there. All ten of us.

I was pleased to find when I got home that I could put my hand on reference 2 in fairly short order, having been reasonably sure that it had not been culled: a very civilised memoir from a very uncivilised war. Although, as I recall, the powers that be took some care of him, giving him rather more than his fair share of the softer billets. I also recall reading that something of the same sort - looking after arty and literary types that is - went on in the German army too.

I don't read much poetry, so it will be interesting to see whether I read much of this.

Back with the Salisbury, there was deep thought about how to get there. Bullingdon from Waterloo or what? In the end, having taken a siesta in the afternoon, I got a lift to the station and walked from Waterloo.

I passed on the M&S trolley across the road from the entrance to Epsom Station, and I think it had gone by the time I got around to it, possibly the next day.

Lots of noisy school boys on the train, six formers I should think. I forget how loud one has to be at that age.

The Salisbury was busy and its decoration (heritage listed I shouldn't wonder) was as florid as ever. And where we came across a middle aged couple from Edmonton. I told them all about my Calgary antecedents - which confused them thoroughly - and I forgot to inquire about the fine dinosaurs to be found in and around the Red River - celebrated as I recall in Ottawa's fine museum of natural history. Just as well, as it turns out that the Red River is mainly in Manitoba, not in Alberta at all, rises just to the north of the great divide and flows north from there into Lake Winnipeg and from thence into Hudson's Bay. I associate this afternoon to a factory manager who once told me that the climate in Winnipeg was awful - always either too hot, too humid or too cold. Lots of bugs. He had opted to run a factory in Mexico instead.

Quite a lot of theatre outside.

A Romeo & Juliet which I think I had been told about, but had declined on account of it being too modern. Too much making it relevant to a younger audience. Pensioners not particularly welcome.

The Player Kings which we had seen at Wimbledon. Noticed at reference 3. Maybe I should go and see it again. But then, perhaps not, remembering about its running time.

Not quite the once hot spot 'The Talk of the Town' any more. But at Wyndham's on the right we had O'Neill's 'Long Day's Journey into Night'. It is the sort of play I would have thought about going to, had anyone sent me an email, but I don't recall any such thing on this occasion. Checking at the theatre today, I find that I can get good seats for something under £200, fairly good seats for something under £100. So an expensive trip if we both go and take food after. Then checking the blog, rather to my surprise, I find that we have very little exposure to O'Neill. Apart from a DVD of 'The Iceman Cometh', just another production of this very play at this very theatre back in 2018, noticed at reference 4. A not very glowing reference, with one complaint being that it was an hour too long. Which is perhaps why matinées of this production are starting at the early hour of 13:00. So I think I will put the plastic away and sleep on that one.

Also passed on a sandwich at Waterloo. The sort of cellophane wrapped, spherical roll (perhaps corned beef and tomato) that they once used to sell at Wimbledon Station yes; just the thing for a mid-evening snack. But the stuff on offer on this occasion at Waterloo, no.

PS: a snip indeed, as I could pay eBay or Abebooks a lot more than the fiver I paid in Cecil Court. With the snap at the top of this being rather better than the one I took, not having bothered to remove the reflective plastic first.

References

Reference 1: Shells by a stream: new poems - Edmund Blunden - 1944.

Reference 2: Undertones of war - Edmund Blunden - 1928. 

Reference 3: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2024/03/geriatrix.html.

Reference 4: https://psmv3.blogspot.com/2018/03/eugene.html.