The ink is still wet upon the page ...

I'm reading Peter Martin's A Life of James Boswell - 

I picture myself sharing a bowl of punch with the sublime scribbler - 

He's chilled by the shadow of his austere father - 

I remember his words - a man adjusts his character by looking at his journal - 

I think of my own diaries, the artless effusions, the shame making confessions - 

Philip Larkin asked a lover to burn his diaries - 

Boswell's remain - 

There's a heeltap in his glass -

The ink is still wet upon the page - 

21.58

Friday 27 July 2018

The Old School House 

East Stoke 

Dorset