Poets have a habit of turning up when least expected. If ever I pass cattle crowded at a gate, I’m likely to hear Seamus Heaney herding them with raised ash plant. Should I have to catch the London Underground, I may well find myself travelling with a giggling John Betjeman. And when I’m walking up the straight lane to Mass, Philip Larkin has a habit of wheeling his bike beside me.
02 August 2017, The Tablet
Surprised by Hull: Larkin reaches his most lyrically romantic in poetry depicting his adopted hometown
City of Culture
Get Instant Access
Continue Reading
Register for free to read this article in full
Subscribe for unlimited access
From just £30 quarterly
Complete access to all Tablet website content including all premium content.
The full weekly edition in print and digital including our 179 years archive.
PDF version to view on iPad, iPhone or computer.
Already a subscriber? Login