I dreamt a Water poem last night: André got Jeremy Prynne to give a spontaneous tutorial. The exercise: ‘catch an experience that caused you to feel pride for an event in history’. I wrote Cold War (remember, a theme is to get a poem written). Some of the poem flowed away as I awoke; I’ve fixed a couple of problems.
I’ve never met Prynne, he’s a myth to me. I dreamt he was my age, with thinning ginger hair. This is wrong.