Wednesday, 9 March 2011


I love the fact that when, needing change for the car park, I pop in to Waitrose and buy a cake, my daughter instantly suggests that we read poems when we eat it. Poetry tea is such an ingrained part of our life-style. I love the fact that she read aloud her first non-rehearsed poem today, a page-and-a-half long: an old favourite so the words are familiar, but still, for this newly emerging reader, a triumph. I love the fact that both sons also choose old favourites, humorous poems read with inflection, enthusiasm and laughter. I love the fact that I can read World War I poetry to them, and they can listen, and be shocked, and understand something of the passion and pain of young men on the front line, another aspect to our loose literary study of war in preparation for a visit to the Imperial War Museum's new exhibition. I love poetry tea time.

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