I am starving, and then I remember that in twenty-four hours I have eaten one steak, one egg and some chips and the brain is like, “This is why we be starving”.

I have Seamus Heaney’s version of Antigone which is called The Burial at Thebes and which has sparked hilarity and insult. First mum read it as “The burial at the bees” causing much mirth and then when I explained what it is she suggested that reading the original might be an idea, as if I of all people have never read Sophocles. I was semi-indignant.

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