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It was some time before I got
Boarstall away from that
very different poets' corner
on the other side of Oxford. But
then I recalled our drive
home from Muswell Hill. How
little did I ever think as the
old 12 Noon used to take
me tingling - fidgin fain - for
the North through what I couldn't
yet appreciate that it was
to be a land of romance.

Fancy if we had had those
travel facilities for our Oxford
time, what explorations we
could have made
away west to the Escarpment