Ronald Gaskell first collection of poems, Rock with Water, was published a few years ago. He now lives in Cornwall.
The minister has not been able to get away this weekend – cables from London, Bucharest, Berlin, St Petersburg. His secretary telephoned just before lunch: possibly on Sunday, probably not, or not till after three.
Lucille takes her new acquaintance, the ambassador’s young wife, for an hour on the river. The trees this summer are so beautiful, the poplars dipping and effacing...
Plato was a young man when Helike sank below the waters of the gulf.
The spasms of the earthquake could be felt all night, tugging at the roots of the city. For three days afterwards the ground subsided – rapidly at first, then gradually, caving and collapsing as if hauled by an enormous hand. Temples toppled, others sagged beneath the inrush of the waves.
...
They are not writing the letters, they are looking at Peter’s yellow hat and red socks.
(Exercise 3)
Naturally this requires their full attention: the hat, a small but rakish panama being of a brilliant Van Gogh yellow, the socks, blazoned with a griffin rampant, an emphatic, even Risorgimento, red.
Peter, known to his friends as Giovanni, promptly uncrosses his legs, tips his hat a...
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