He was thirty-six years old, and six foot three. He spoke English to people and French to cats, and Latin to the birds. He had once nearly killed himself trying to read and ride a horse at the same time.
I thought I'd begin by reading a poem by Shakespeare but then I thought Why should I? He never reads any of mine.
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I thought I'd begin by reading a poem by Shakespeare but then I thought Why should I? He never reads any of mine.
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...Roberts had joined the Royal Artillery in 1914 and since then had steadily risen to the rank of Gunner. Now the crunch: someone with a perverted sense of humour made him a Lance Bombardier. Roberts went insane with power. The war now consisted of two people, him and Hitler.
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With a roof over his head he had ceased to work, living off his [war] pension and his wits, both hopelessly inadequate.