Mayday Morning

May morning was a lovely time in Oxford in 1963. Jeremy and I rose very early to hear a choir singing, and later, Morris Dancers and breakfast in the market. The blossom was out, and we felt very excited. Pissing with rain outside this morning. Mais, ou sont les sodding neiges d'antan? That's what I'd bloody like to know. Today is total shit. Nevertheless, for the sake of my happy and carefree youthful past, I shall force myself out for May morning, to tread slowly and feebly to the Elephant & Castle shopping centre in pursuit of a daily paper and a cheap coffee in Mamuska. Self-pity rant over.