Was everybody scared?
Mum was, certainly.
Slip-clinging hold, respectability.
World-lost, he didn’t care,
Or didn’t cotton on.
Inexplicably,
He once broke out, performing memorably:
Reckless, and with aplomb.
Mistiming exquisite;
Turning their stomachs;
Master-class for me in how to flummox
Guests: it was The Visit.
Scented and Sunday-clad,
– Teacups four-high, stacked,
And then paraded like a circus act –
Mother pronounced him mad.
Kitchen philosophy,
The moment passed.
Already a subscriber? Log in
Subscribe for just $2 a week
Try a month of The Spectator Australia absolutely free and without commitment. Not only that but – if you choose to continue – you’ll pay just $2 a week for your first year.
- Unlimited access to spectator.com.au and app
- The weekly edition on the Spectator Australia app
- Spectator podcasts and newsletters
- Full access to spectator.co.uk
Or
Comments
Don't miss out
Join the conversation with other Spectator Australia readers. Subscribe to leave a comment.
SUBSCRIBEAlready a subscriber? Log in