Eternity’s a terrible thought. I mean, where’s it all going to end?
Tom Stoppard, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead
Christmas is a time for recycling. This isn’t an installation at Tate Modern (I wonder what they do about their recycling). Nobody here in East Sussex, where we live, will take paper and cardboard in the same container. Be that as it may, I’m recycling a poem, ‘Infinity … and So Forth’, which you’ve possibly heard to infinity, so I’ve done a shorter version with a special verse for Christmas.
And talking of recycling, and indeed revivifying, the tree you can see in my introduction to the film is a dead branch of a silver birch that our tree surgeon son Arthur erected in our new house instead of a pine.