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notes from a small vicar
from a parish
in Liverpool, UK
Saturday, March 25, 2006Leave well alone stories The Poet's Garden
The garden is looking particularly alright at this time of the year.
There are pinky things everywhere, and sort of red bits in waving clumps.
The lawn is as green as grass and studded with little yellow studs.
Flowers, I think they are called.
I finished reading Roger McGough's autobiography Said and Done today and was very heartened by this description of the garden at his old Princes Park home. He confesses that he left it to the tender mercies of Mother Nature, and on this shining last day of winter when there appear to be signs of growth in the nascent jungle outside my kitchen door, I'm glad to have found a kindred spirit - here is encouragement from the poet to leave well alone, let it get on with things itself, why disturb it.
Good to have Greenbelt pal and exiled Evertonian Pete with me in The Jolly Miller today, washing down our derby disappointment with lashings of lager and Guinness. And on the day I also booked to see Radiohead this summer, Pete told me another leave well alone sort-of story which is tangentally akin to McGough's, and I love it. Apparently Tony Blair has been hassling Radiohead's Thom Yorke to come on board a government Environmental think-tank, and after the umpteenth phone call from a Downing Street drudge Yorke told him to "stop asking me, you're making me ill."
"Blair has no environmental credentials as far as I'm concerned," he said. Well, like Roger McGough, neither do I. But we're one with Thom in a commitment to leaving well alone.