When I was staying at Woolsthorpe to paint the Belvoir Hounds for the Master, Tommy Bouch, Saturday nights were often special occasions and the company would wear scarlet.  I dedicated the following poem-written on the spot one morning after breakfast – to Bouch’s mother.


Last night we sat and drank too late,

We taxed our brains with all our might;

Unwisely we did sit and prate,

So let’s go quietly to-night.
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