Yes, he was a hundred years old yesterday. All together now - Happy Birthday dear J Alfred, happy birthday to you. I mentioned the love story in my blog a week or so back - said Eliot was only 28 years old when he wrote it. I was wrong. He was 22! Twenty-bloody-two!
BBC 3 did him proud though- two programmes devoted to the poem - quite right too! Let's give you a bit:
". . . No, I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be. Am an attendant lord; one who will do to swell a progress, fill a scene or two.
Politic, meticulous, glad to be of use, almost, at times, ridiculous, almost, at times, the fool."
And then of course, he goes into:
"I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me . . ."
Yes, well, we've all been there - but not at twenty-bloody-two we hadn't! Precocious twat!
AND he buggers up the last stanza (my view).
Can't help liking the thing though . . . What about: "For I have seen them all already; seen them all; have seen the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons . . ." Well, haven't we all TS, haven't we all? Unless we've spent our lives as coal miners, that is.
I ran into the bugger by chance when I was about fifteen. It was like being hit by a train. Loved his stuff, but never had any time for the guy himself - well, I think I realised, even then, that he'd never have made it down the pit.
. . .
Last night I ate not one, but two, dinners (don't ask . . . all right, I was asked out after I'd already dined, and I've never been known to turn down a dinner invitation). Nor did I swim yesterday (only 16 lengths this week). Guess what! I'm putting weight back on. Feet are feeling great though.
Happy days!
BBC 3 did him proud though- two programmes devoted to the poem - quite right too! Let's give you a bit:
". . . No, I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be. Am an attendant lord; one who will do to swell a progress, fill a scene or two.
Politic, meticulous, glad to be of use, almost, at times, ridiculous, almost, at times, the fool."
And then of course, he goes into:
"I grow old, I grow old, I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me . . ."
Yes, well, we've all been there - but not at twenty-bloody-two we hadn't! Precocious twat!
AND he buggers up the last stanza (my view).
Can't help liking the thing though . . . What about: "For I have seen them all already; seen them all; have seen the evenings, mornings, afternoons, I have measured out my life with coffee spoons . . ." Well, haven't we all TS, haven't we all? Unless we've spent our lives as coal miners, that is.
I ran into the bugger by chance when I was about fifteen. It was like being hit by a train. Loved his stuff, but never had any time for the guy himself - well, I think I realised, even then, that he'd never have made it down the pit.
. . .
Last night I ate not one, but two, dinners (don't ask . . . all right, I was asked out after I'd already dined, and I've never been known to turn down a dinner invitation). Nor did I swim yesterday (only 16 lengths this week). Guess what! I'm putting weight back on. Feet are feeling great though.
Happy days!