The Shallow end Available to Purchase

Nearly ten years ago I wrote a sequence of rough verses (NLW May 1974) incited by something J B Priestley said at his seventy‐ninth birthday dinner. He declared that he felt, and thought of himself, as a young person. The sagging face which he saw in the mirror was, he claimed, so incongruous it was as if he had been forcibly made‐up, back‐stage at a theatre, to look like an old man.