[R. S. Gwynn]

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p034md2x

[John Whitworth]

And I was there. Not actually in the pub, which I am trying frantically to identify, but up in Edinburgh, down from Oxford. Stevie is not wearing one of her little girl dresses. I thought they were about as good as it got as far as poetry was concerned. Magic!

My stepmother owned a pub, an old fashioned pub with sawdust on the floor, known as Sandy Bell's though the rubric said The Forest Hill Bar. My stepmother was Catherine Bell. I don't know what relation she was to Sandy.

Les souvenirs sont cors de chasse
Dont meurt le bruit parmi le vent

Apollinare, don't you know. I say, isn't that a bit intellectual? Did you know that Roger McGough's degree was in French? He bought me a beer in the BBC canteen once, bless him.

[Ann Drysdale]

Me an' thee in Loch Fyne, eh, John?

[John Whitworth]

Och aye the noo, bonny Annie, let's hae a wee deoch 'n doris, and other Scotch expressions.

[Ann Drysdale]

It was in YORK, ffs...

[John Whitworth]

Bloody nearly Scotland eh?

[Terese Coe]

Very cozy, authentic, and loveable, I thought. Is it too much to ask one of you, John and Annie, for at least a partial written account of the dialogue between songs, as some of it flies by too fast and mumbly... That would be such an act of generosity!

[Ann Drysdale]

I'm off to bed now, fighting a lurgy, dosed with honey and lemon and whisky, and I have to turn in straight away so as to get the beauty of it hot. If no-one's beaten me to it when I get up tomorrow, I'll have a go.

[Terese Coe]

Thanks, Annie, and hope it's a quick recovery!

[Ann Drysdale]

I've sent to the BBC to see if there's a transcript. That'd clear it up completely.