We were driving back from Limerick today (no pictures: I snapped a couple of interesting manhole covers, but apparently the old SD card reader doesn't want to talk to the new laptop, and I only brought the other kind of USB cable. There will be a techno-rant coming up later.) and Susan asked me about the poetic form. I've never read The Wasteland, but for some reason I have the last 40% of Wendy Cope's AABBA version of it committed to memory...
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