I suppose if I told you I’d just spent the evening with John Benjamin you’d be tempted to call me a liar wouldn’t you? Well, there is something about summer evenings that makes me reach for him. He always makes himself available to me and enjoys watching my great enjoyment of him ( I think). My darling friend Tony, who met him gave me the glorious gift of a book of his collected poems. Whenever we are together we read Betjeman to each other ( and we listen to Noel Coward songs too). Tonight I’ve been reading Benjamin to Teddy who has politely slept through a good deal of my reverential chanting. Betjamin is a joy. A complete and utter joy and he creates a glorious bird’s eye view of his life and times. Cloistered, rarified and beguilingly amusing. I once lived in a house in Bath that was doors away from where his mother had lived and I liked to imagine him walking past my house in his younger days long before I ever moved there, giving me an avuncular wave as he passed. His ghost has always hovered just above me so I feel like I know him. Here his is reading A Subaltern’s Lovesong…Bliss!