So Peter Reading’s dead. I think⦠I think there wasn’t a better poet in England. Serious, funny, formally brilliant, lucid, tricksy, unsettling, nasty, compassionate sometimes⦠usw.
One of the few who looked well at the dirty world of now, properly.
He then worked for 22 years as a weighbridge operator at an animal feedmill in Shropshire, a job which left him free to think, until he was sacked for refusing to wear a uniform introduced by new owners of the business.
Good man.
RIP