Another delightful story by Jim and Tallis.
If you listened to the gossip whispered behind fluttering fans, you’d be convinced that Yale Belom was a philanderer of some standing. Yet between ourselves, a more loyal family man never drew breath. Yes he had his weakness, but his was more that he tended to say what seemed good at the time.
He had at one point described himself as a poet. The cruel might say that it was a stage he was going through; but I think that would be too unkind. To declare yourself a poet is to lay claim to an honourable estate. I almost remember one of his poems. It was short and called ‘The Artisan’s Lament.’ With the passing of years all I can remember is that he managed to produce a complex internal rhyming scheme which rhymed ballcock, stopcock, buttock, pillock and instruct, in a poem barely two lines long. I know at…
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