I Wish I Was Away In Ingo

We Are Creatures Of Story.

I Would Like People To Come Into My Dreamworld And Then Choose To Stay.

The Poets Whom I Knew Then Were All Men And All Seemed Dauntingly Sure Of Themselves - Although I Am Sure That Really They Were As Uncertain As I Was.

I Can Remember Being In My Pram: Children Stayed In Their Prams Much Longer Then Than They Do Now. A Big Bouncy Pram With Black Covers And A Hood With Metal Clips That Could Trap Your Fingers. I Was Looking Up At My Sister Who Was Sitting On The Pram Seat, With Her Back To Me.

The Language Has Got To Be Fully Alive - I Can't Bear Dull, Flaccid Writing Myself And I Don't See Why Any Reader Should Put Up With It.