The local covers had also been beaten to flush out any resident or passing Ozzies, so we had artist David Henderson and vogatrice Jane Caporal strategically placed along the long table. Hugh’s Strine lyrics had been wrenched into a semblance of Italian by Philip Morre – catch his new website, by the way: www.philipmorre.com – and these were then worked on severally by native lingoists and duly recited by same to accompany the poet’s own vigorous address – a form of audience participation that proved highly successful and involving, and could well become a regular feature of future events.
Hugh’s salty Catullus translations went down particularly well, though I have to wonder if anyone other than your own properly educated Lucy got much out of the Latin originals Morre insisted on reading. Serve him right that the only casualty of the evening was his Polish straw hat, now dancing, Lucy suspects, over a Beard.
