And London shops on Christmas Eve / Are strung with silver bells and flowers / As hurrying clerks the City leave / To pigeon-haunted classic towers, / And marbled clouds go scudding by / The many-steepled London sky.
John Betjeman (1906-1984), Christmas
I miss JB. He was always entertaining.
Best wishes, Pete.
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Private Godfrey in Dad’s Army reminds me of JB.
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