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,