Down in deepest, darkest Dorset, where I have spent the long, lingering lockdown, I have been comforted by alliterative poetry – peppered with passages preponderantly involving a welter of words which begin with the same letter.
Poet Laureate Simon Armitage has reworked Gawain and the Green Knight and the Death of King Arthur in a modern idiom. They make for an intriguing interlude in a Zoom-laden day. But man doesn’t live by rhyme alone, as no poet has ever said.
He can, however, live very well from our local farm shop, in an unpromising barn on the A35. They sell everything from soup to nuts and back again, except fresh fish. But that lacuna is filled by a man in a beaten-up Chevy pickup/ van: the sort one might drive to a dry levee. And he doesn’t just sell cod fillets. A couple of red mullets and a pound of ray cheeks? No problem. The man in question is, in fact, noted restaurateur Mark Hix.