The covenant of RMSYL has always been that of Mo going to the Mountain. Mo to the Mou, if you like. If you get in touch, and invite me round for a cuppa, as long as you don’t live in Timbuktu, I’ll be there (with a packet of biscuits). But it’s also pretty darn special when the Mou comes to Mo. In this case, the Mou not only came to Mo, he came all the way from Wo. Wolverhampton that is. Well, pretty much so. The mountain didn’t of course come down from Wo just for Mo, he also came for Mu and Dü, and ended up listening to a recording of some Dub. But that’s a tale for the next podcast. Regardless of where the Mou came from, it was a pleasure hanging out in his mountainous heights, depths, and Black Country vowels. I’m hoping to tempt him down again with a verse-reciting gig in a neo-Gothic chapel for National Poetry Day, where he might wrap those multi-syllabizing, Wulfrunian vocal cords around 60 sonnety lines of Derek Mahon’s ‘Disused Shed in Co. Wexford’ (Mou has been memorising Ma and writing about this the last couple of weeks – a very good read that is too).
- From Waitrose, if you’re lucky.↵