I came across James Bond and Gregory Sallust at the same time - they were both sexy spooky killers -
I'd read Goldfinger over one weekend, forgetting my homework -
I gazed at the girl stretched out upon the paperback covers -
Her gilded body haunted my eager dreams -
I'd curl up on the sofa, watching Bond slaughter henchmen on the Ferguson TV -
For a time Bond was part of my life - each year or so, there was another film showing at The Ritz -
Bond would drive a savage Aston Martin, cheat death with a cynical appercu on his lips -
Fantastic bunkers would be engulfed in flames - Q would raise a weary eyebrow -
Then one day, we read Portrait of the Artist in the summer classroom -
Nothing could be as simple and straightforward again -
16.00
Wednesday 25 November 2015
The Old School House
East Stoke
Dorset
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