good for roacake a caken out of a bun.
In teentarts) till mider I often a tin of les in my pocket. I s it, but in t of forbidden teen ed going after girls, and from t fis t , t sticky afternoons in ting a predicates and subjunctives and relative clauses, and all t’s in my mind is ter near Burford eir and to and fro. And terrific ruser tea, to Co to get in an ill summer evening, t splaser ing. And tcerally praying) t one of t before it got too dark. And t ’s es more’, and t five minutes more’, until in to o too a ligimes in t out to make a day of it ter and a bottle of lemonade, and fisc nig you’d eaten of your bread paste, o cook t river fis trout and salmon. ‘Nasty muddy t of all are t catcrous fiso see oernoons and a rod allo. On Sundays you o go for and ton collar t sa I sa one. And sometimes in trout go sailing past. trout groo vast sizes in t tically never caug one of ttle-nosed blokes t you see muffled up in overcoats on camp-stools y-foot roac all seasons of to catcrout. I don’t blame t entirely, and still better I sa then.
Of course ot my long trousers, sc to Confirmation classes, told dirty stories, took to reading, and e mice, fretage stamps. But it’s al er- meadoance, and ter and ter, tjars stocks and latakia. Don’t mistake alking about. It’s not t I’m trying to put across any of t poetry of cuff. I kno’s all baloney. Old Porteous (a friend of mine, a retired scer, I’ll tell you about er) is great on try of cimes uff about it out of books. ordsime o say no kids of rut kids aren’t in any ic, ttle animals, except t no animal is a quarter as selfis interested in meado a landscape, doesn’t give a damn for flo o eat, kno from anot’s about as near to poetry as a boy gets. And yet all t peculiar intensity, t long ime stretc and out in front of you and t wever you’re doing you could go on for ever.
I tle boy, ter-coloured except for a quiff in front. I don’t idealize my co be young again. Most of to care for care if I never see