Martin was a student bold who
spent time in a donkey jacket wishing
that he could return home to Essex and fiancée,
or better still, buy cigarettes and then go fishing.
Willy was a student bold who
wore a Gestapo type raincoat made of leather
paid for by a huge chunk of his grant,
to protect him from the warmest place in the British Isles’ weather.
Miss (sorry, Ms) O’Connor was a student bold who,
in lilac scarf, hung out with rather left wing folk
kept insisting that she was working class,
but came from suburban Basingstoke.
Mr Markham was a student bold who
was a flat cap wearing Walter Mitty
who thought that somehow he could play football for Brazil,
or failing that, home town Bristol City.
Mr Harrison was a student bold who
came here to read Geography
but, in his free time, he went to ancient ruins,
and read books on Roman History.
Mr Homer - that is me, people, me - was a student bold who
was thought, no doubt, by the rest of the group,
the staff, and anyone else, as the apogee
but thirty years later when asked about him,
they answered, as a Greek chorus might in a play,
‘Homer? Who‘s he?’
