At Lancing College Oxford he was regarded as a young Auden, the son of Constance Lambert a renowned classical composer, some might think that was quite a silver spoon start. But whateve the emotionat dynamism one would never get coherence from this your Auden.
I met him one night in a flat in Emperors Gate, in Kensington London. He arrived perspiring dishevelled and asked the owner of the flat if he could have a bath.
After dinner he talked about the Who, here was the man who put the stammer into My Generation. He was short of money and up for parting with a share of the Who as best I can rememeber but I was overawed I said nothing. I was an unertain dany with a philistine bias, a modest soul but clouded in a sepia of unbridled swagger. I desperatly wanted to be in that arts not realsing that is was an abyss
I would learn later of his sense of exclusion and his feeling of superflousness that drove him to drink and drugs. He was the arch despoiler of his own merits.
Then a decade later I am appearing at some fringe theatre in Notting Hill
and I would see him in the pub below still dishevelled, still perspiring.
He died shortly after after falling down the stairs of his mother's home.
And from that arch misanthrope
A Philip Larkin quatrain
Man hands misery to man
it deepens like a coastal shelf
get out early if you can
and don't have kids yourself
I met him one night in a flat in Emperors Gate, in Kensington London. He arrived perspiring dishevelled and asked the owner of the flat if he could have a bath.
After dinner he talked about the Who, here was the man who put the stammer into My Generation. He was short of money and up for parting with a share of the Who as best I can rememeber but I was overawed I said nothing. I was an unertain dany with a philistine bias, a modest soul but clouded in a sepia of unbridled swagger. I desperatly wanted to be in that arts not realsing that is was an abyss
I would learn later of his sense of exclusion and his feeling of superflousness that drove him to drink and drugs. He was the arch despoiler of his own merits.
Then a decade later I am appearing at some fringe theatre in Notting Hill
and I would see him in the pub below still dishevelled, still perspiring.
He died shortly after after falling down the stairs of his mother's home.
And from that arch misanthrope
A Philip Larkin quatrain
Man hands misery to man
it deepens like a coastal shelf
get out early if you can
and don't have kids yourself
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