For many, Rupert Brooke is the embodiment of a generation that was all but wiped out between 1914 and 1918. His fame was largely brought about by the words of one of his sonnets, If I should die, think only this of me/There is some corner of a foreign field that is forever England. This thought w...
He could fling one down that whizzed past the imaginary wicket keeper and sent shock waves through the henhouse at long stop. It was, as you can imagine, a rather one-sided affair, but I took my punishment as was expected. My bowling was knocked elegantly past trees bearing the young fruits of Co...
To the backdrop of a happy atmosphere on the boat provided by a crowd of young men with mandolins, he wrote in October 1913 the poem ‘Clouds’, imagining the clouds to be spirits of the dead, scudding across the moon and observing the living beneath them. CloudsDown the blu...