When John Brown died, Robert Louis Stevenson’s father forced him to write a poem to memorialise John Brown. This he did with a dose of passive agressive resitance. I reproduce it below, and – for those who may miss it among the rhyming Scots language: it is less than complimentary. Basically it says: you were a crap writer, how unfair that people liked your books so much. They thought you were a great old guy but they didn’t really know you!!!! Time hase born RLS out. While RLS remains well known, John Brown. . . well – not so much. Continue reading
When can I get another job done and written.
Sometimes we go to the gardens to play. On a weekday they can seem a bit like a traffic island. But at the weekends when no-one is there, they are tranquil and private.