I worked ferociously hard at school and just adored each Year's English texts; always one Shakespeare, one other British poet, one modern British novel and two pre-20th century novels. Year after year I read my way through the best of British literature, mostly on public transport to and from school. I was less enamoured by Latin, Greek and French literature, but we can't all be clever dicks, now can we? At the start of each English Lit lesson Mrs L--- would hand out our homework with a clipped commentary for the benefit of the listening class. My persistent use of adverbs gave my first Rochester essay, she said, a "magazine" style. The sarcasm came freely.
I am reminded of this every month when The Garden drops through my letterbox with another article by Roy Lancaster. Some months I manage to read as much as half his article before I throw it down in annoyance.
I'm sorry Mrs L--- for the torture I inflicted upon you.