Daryl Ilbury

The withering charms of poetry

In Eish! on October 24, 2011 at 6:37 am

Lord Byron - apparently people are no longer buying his albums

A retort I often fire at any man lunging at me with a broken bottle is that I am a writer, not a fighter. I usually underscore the defence by holding up my hands to show evidence of their softness, and wiggling my fingers to illustrate their dexterity. Admittedly it’s not a particularly manly thing to do, but women love it. Or do they?

I never really knew my father, but he did manage to pass onto me three things that defined me: his love of science, his appreciation for artistic verse, and his gangly, uncoordinated, completely unathletic frame – three things that would ensure I’d be bullied at school.

Yes, I was the skinny kid who always came last in physical education exercises; who hated wearing shorts; and who crumpled at the thought of standing on the edge of a diving board in a Speedo. I was useless at most sports because I was cursed with all the co-ordination of a newly born wildebeest. Contact sports filled me with dread. I tried to get out of playing rugby by claiming I was prone to nose bleeds. In a school where playing rugby was compulsory…read more

  1. Nose bleeds are mostly caused by too much heat. Most of the time it can be remedied by cold compress. ‘,”:”

    Warmest wishes http://healthmedicinelab.com/canker-sore-treatment/

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