I’ve just written to a friend and said br br ‘I’ve just written a poem br which I would have given my life br to have written.’… br br and then sat and looked at br what I’d written – br wondering whether br that was what I really meant.. br br (and, faintly, contemplating br whether a thunderbolt br straight from Justice central br might strike me there and then…) br br or whether I’d retreated into br some private world of self-delusion.. br br or whether I had reached the height br of mortal bliss..