“How are you keeping then? ”, she wrote, <br />“still going on O.K.? Me, <br />I’m at college now, doing English lit. <br />This term it’s Philip Larkin — <br />I think he’s brilliant, <br />a bit depressive, but <br />he’s really written some good stuff — <br />have you heard of him? ” <br />Into my mind there came that long <br />lugubrious clean-shaven face <br />that always smelled of after-shave, <br />those heavy black-rimmed spectacles, <br />the hearing aid that always whistled, <br />that stylish belted macintosh he wore, <br />and his spacious room with its sprawling desk <br />on which incongruously sat <br />an aspidistra and a photograph <br />of Guy, the gorilla, next to where <br />his secretary, Betty, placed the tray <br />of Earl Grey tea in porcelain cups, <br />but most of all did I recall <br />his voice — its deep, slow, <br />rich cultured tones. So great a loss, <br />so kind a man and in his way <br />so modest too. Upon his small <br />neat white gravestone you’ll find <br />no flowery epitaph, just: <br />“Philip Larkin / 1922–1985 / writer.” <br />He feared death — its endless emptiness, <br />but don’t we all, deep down? <br />I’ll not forget his generous friendly smile <br />last time we met just a little while <br />before he died. We were not close, <br />but yet, he told me once that he’d dreamt of me <br />and I too, when he was dead, once dreamt of him, <br />so I may justly say to you, <br />“It’s true, I’ve heard of him”.<br /><br />Pete Crowther<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/philip-larkin-have-you-heard-of-him/
