Pat Fox

Saturday saw Mik and I making our way back to Edinburgh's New Town. To be precise, Royal Circus (no bears or elephants - or corgis).

Paula Jennings had arranged a salon in memory of Pat Fox.

In a spacious front room, complete with grand piano and towering bookcases, nine of Pat's friends each read two of her poems. It was both fascinating and enjoyable to hear the unexpected selection of poems delivered in a variety of voices, along with some personal reminiscences about the lady.

There were the additional attractions of wine and mince pies - and, of course, a very appreciative audience, which included Pat's daughters, Rachael and Karen.

I read Malmaison  in which a disenchanted couple face each other across a restaurant table and
"...drag the flesh from artichokes,
crunch crostini,
attack the rack of lamb and sugar snaps..."
and
"...fill their mouths with lemon tart,
and take their coffee black."

As someone rightly commented, Pat would've loved it.

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