Noone locked their door in Flamborough town Too hot in trainers, my feet swelled with pain We shall never see those cliffs again Now you lie in earth, all muddy brown
My metatarsal arch collapsed, like Dunwich drowned Wandering on a cliff path in light rain Noone locked their door in Flamborough town Too hot in trainers, my feet swelled with pain
In Bridlington the cashpoint let us down The town was dirty,unkempt,in the main Where was Hockney, will he come by train? Bempton Cliffs astonished,sea renowned Noone locked their door in Flamborough town
He won the Soros Translation Award in 1985, and spent the prize money on a day trip to Lapland on Corcorde
Scotland’s first official Makar in modern times, Edwin Morgan was endlessly inventive, inquiring, energetic, internationalist, and deeply committed to his home city of Glasgow.
A book of poems in his honour, Unknown Is Best, was produced to celebrate Morgan’s eightieth birthday in 2000. His own poem, ‘At Eighty’, was characteristic of the poet’s work, faring forward into the future, embracing change: ‘Push the boat out, compañeros / Push the boat out, whatever the seas…. push it all out into the unknown! / Unknown is best, it beckons best…’.
This seems an unlikely sentiment from a man of Morgan’s background. He was the only child of loving, anxious and undemonstrative parents, Stanley and Margaret (née Arnott) Morgan, politically conservative and Presbyterian. His father was a director of a small firm of iron and steel merchants. Edwin George Morgan was born on 27 April 1920 in Glasgow’s West End, and brought up in Pollokshields and Rutherglen. He attended – unhappily – Rutherglen Academy, moving on to complete his schooling at Glasgow High and entering Glasgow University in 1937. When he was called up in 1940, he horrified his family by registering as a conscientious objector. He reached a compromise position while waiting for his case to be called, and asked to serve in the RAMC, with which he spent the war in Egypt, the Lebanon and Palestine.
He was demobbed in 1946, returned to Glasgow and took a first class Honours degree in English Language and Literature. There was a chance of studying at Oxford, but Morgan preferred to take up the offer of a Lectureship in the Department of English at Glasgow University, where he remained. Having become Titular Professor in 1975, he retired from the University in 1980. He was a much-valued colleague and himself appreciated the structure and salary that academic life gave him.
Morgan first published under the name ‘Kaa’ in the High School of Glasgow Magazine, in 1936, and went on using that nom de plume in the Glasgow University Magazine, emerging as reviewer and translator under his own name in a variety of periodicals after the war. His first collection, The Vision of Cathkin Braes, was published by William MacLellan of Glasgow in 1952, and in the same year the Hand and Flower Press issued his translation of Beowulf (reissued by Carcanet Press in 2002). For fifty years Morgan maintained this double output, translations from Russian and Hungarian, Latin and French, Italian and Old English keeping pace with his own work, showing astonishing variety and technical skills in both. He won the Soros Translation Award in 1985, and spent the prize money on a day trip to Lapland on Corcorde.
Although Stan was 102, he still rode his bike locally in the summer time.He was out in the garden pumping up the tires before going off to the Library.Suddenly his neighbour Annie appeared at the gate, without him hearing her feet tapping on the path of red brick;she was bedecked in finest Scottish tweed with a long pendant on a solid 22 carat gold chain swinging nonchalantly from her neck, with a matching ring attached mysteriously to her upper lip.
“Who’re you, the Lady Mayoress” he joked. Where’s Mary?” she pointedly whispered. ”She’s with her widowed sister Joan up in Scotland ” Stan admitted nervously, unsure of her reactions. ”Joan, that’s not a very Scottish name!” Annie joked.” Anyway how about we sit down here on this bench for a moment”.She pulled him vigorously towards her.
Stan responded regretfully “I’m afraid I can’t stop.I have all these books overdue and the library shuts in 15 minutes .”Don’t worry, sweetheart”, she cried un-contemptuously.”I’ll pay all your fines.I’ve just come into loads and loads of money.” “Oh, how’s that.my angel” Stan murmured. “I shot Bert.If you help me to get rid of the evidence, I’ll share the loot with you.”
At the funeral, Annie was dressed in a beautiful dark brown suit with a black trim from Jaeger.She went around the room making sure everyone had enough food and drink.As she leaned over towards Stan her heavy gold locket, inside which was hidden the bullet that killed Bert, swung over and hit Stan a glancing blow on the temple. Stan fell to the ground .”Do you think we should ring 999?” someone asked sarcastically.Within minutes, paramedics arrived. “So, is it that chair again?” they clamoured. ”Yes, this foolish old man fell over and the leg came off my brand new antique chair.I’ve only had it a few days and it’s not insured.”
“Did anyone ever tell you, your eyes are like deep pools in the Saragossa Sea?” Dave, the paramedic whispered into her right ear. “Have you still not finished that Creative Writing Course?” Annie shouted.””I’m getting tired of you admiring my eyes.What about my nose?””
“Has anyone ever told you, your nose is the shortest they’ve ever seen?”
“That’s a bit boring” Annie retorted. ”Yeah, maybe I should change to Art,” he ruefully moaned.”I love the way your deep blue and turquoise eye shadow is melting around your eyes and running down the sides of your nose.” “Hurry up and fix my chair, and while you’re about it, you may as well take Stan down to A and E for a head X-ray.” Glancing furtively at Annie in her Jaeger suit with carefully contrasting deep coral blouse and opaque teal blue 80 denier tights with 6 inch stiletto heels to complete the outfit, not to mention her raspberry coloured bra which clashed violently with the coral blouse [which alas was more transparent than she realised], he picked up a hammer and began,excitedly,to mend the broken chair. ”This is what life is all about, my boy” he thought.One day I will be just where I should be.Right here.With her,alone!
Little did he know the true tale, that Annie had murdered her husband merely because she felt very bored. Boredom is dangerous.If you are affected why not go out and look at some hats? Why not take up drawing. is now online
Stan was teaching social statistics to a group of elderly neighbors.Since he was 109 it gave them all hope to see him demonstrating his prowess with various techniques.He was planning to do some logic and philosophy too. Annie his mistress was sitting by the door so she could answer the bell if any paramedics turned up for tea. “I’m not going to calculate the standard deviations” he murmured.”I just want you to grasp the general purpose.” “Deviations,they’re not normal are they?” enquired his neighbor “Henry,an ex-English teacher.”So how can they be standard? It’s confusing..” “Are you thinking of deviants?” Stan enquired calmly yet firmly ”Certainly not,at my age .I’m a bit past that!””Still , it adds a bit of excitement to the class.” he thought. How do words in ordinary language relate to those in Statistics?”asked Henry kindly “They are just more precisely defined in statistics.To say someone is a deviant is a rather vague term.” “No,it’s not!My neighbor is a deviant.He dresses entirely in yellow.” “Well,that must be hard to do.Certainly unusual.” Stan agreed boldly. “But in another country that might be the norm.So it’s a matter of context. In statistics, it’s more boring.There’s a formula.It’s totally independent of context.Have you ever wondered why so many mathematicians have more than a touch of Asperger’s syndrome?”
“No,it’s not something that wanders through my mind much”replied Henry A shudder passed through the room at hearing the word “formula“, which perhaps they considered something of a deviant!Anything with letters and numbers mixed together is certainly not welcome in many people’s minds, along with their more unusual sexual tastes, desires ,and inclinations which were kept secret even from themselves in many cases.
“Time for tea.” called Annie,hoping to divert their attention.She carried in a platter of mouse sandwiches kindly donated by the local ambulance service and some iced Victoria sponge she and Stan had made the day before while Mary was giving a lecture on doughnuts and algebraic topology. “Just a quick word about next week.We’ll take a look at ratios and proportions and maybe see how that relates to the concept of rationality.” “That sounds fun!” Annie called encouragingly.Henry decided to act on a deviant desire and fell onto her lap. ”Oh,dear!” she gasped loudly as the chair collapsed under her. ”Why can’t you be deviant at home?” “My wife won’t let me!” He kindlily answered. “And look,” Stan continued,”we’ll have to ring 999.This chair is in fragments.I thought for one day we’d be able to avoid calling them out!” “Well,life is not controllable.” said a quiet but fierce looking lady with sharp green eyes. ”That’s what makes it tolerable“ She then greedily consumed a large piece of iced cake . “I can stand the thinking if the cake is good” she whispered to her shy friend Amy. ”That’s rather a feeble argument,”Amy retorted.”You can’t really compare cake and statistics.” “I’ll compare anything I like!” the green-eyed woman snarled loudly. “You do what you like but you must keep a sense of proportion!” “Now then,have you rung 999?” Stan queried of Annie.”Yes,here they are,and they’ve got a stretcher for the chair!” “Well,that’s certainly unusual,even deviant“,Stan thought anxiously to himself. ”Where do they get their funding? Is there a fund for distributing money to help chairs which are not fit for purpose?