If there is not at least one story about A.E. Housman in the slush pile, I will despair of humanity.
Nil desperandum. I am working on it. (And thank you for the reminder, for I had forgotten that there was a deadline involved with this.) A E Housman on Mars, natch. With rowing blues (for I have walked the towpath at the Henley Regatta, and when those gentlemen emerge from their cockleshell eights, I tell you, 'Greek gods' is the only term...). I am confident that the metaphor can somehow stand for the reality, and besides which: the foremost scholar of his day, communicating with aliens in a diving-bell in the depths of a crater lake? It does just have to happen...
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Nil desperandum. I am working on it. (And thank you for the reminder, for I had forgotten that there was a deadline involved with this.) A E Housman on Mars, natch. With rowing blues (for I have walked the towpath at the Henley Regatta, and when those gentlemen emerge from their cockleshell eights, I tell you, 'Greek gods' is the only term...). I am confident that the metaphor can somehow stand for the reality, and besides which: the foremost scholar of his day, communicating with aliens in a diving-bell in the depths of a crater lake? It does just have to happen...