Pursuing 'The Voice of Poetry in the Conversation of Mankind'

Abstract

I first crossed the Channel in 1947, three years after the Liberation of France from the Nazi occupation, two years after the end of the Second World War. I was then fourteen years old. During the War, between the ages of eight and twelve, I had but one dream: to go to England, the land of liberty. My favourite hero then was Winston Churchill. I still admire him very much and am not at all happy when I read disparaging remarks about his conduct during those years. In July 1947 I crossed the Channel by boat after a long, long journey by train from Paris to Calais (no Eurostar then, and no tunnel); I then took another slow train from London to Edinburgh; and another one again, slower still, from Edinburgh to a small town situated somewhere north of the Firth of Forth. And I finally arrived at 52 Station Road, Lochgelly, Fife, where I spent one of the happiest months of my whole life. I cannot say that Lochgelly is a very beautiful town. Most of the time the weather was unsettled. It was windy, but I was used to winds, being from Provence. And it rained. Rain, of course, is a good thing; I loved rain. Rain was something exotic and I love it still; I must say that at times one feels that there can be too much of a good thing. But all in all, as I say, it was a wonderful stay. There was plenty to eat, and everyone was friendly. Everyone tried to feed me because I was a boy from France and must have been famished.