I really enjoy reading poets’ prose, be it the letters of Philip Larkin, the ‘nature writing’ of Kathleen Jamie and Nan Shepherd, the humorous memoir/travel writing of Simon Armitage, or the anecdotes of the late Ronald Hall. They all seem to have a wonderful, deceptively simple precision that makes their prose immense fun to read.
I can now add Wendy Cope’s prose to my list. I enjoyed this cobbled together mix of memoir, reviews, and other bits and bobs immensely. And I (genuinely) laughed out loud at her account of watching World Championship darts on the television.
A good read.
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