IN COMPETITION No 303 you were invited to write a poem called Best Wishes. Polly Sharpe's sad tale began, ‘My dad was cool, he played guitar, / He shagged a woman in HR, / My mum said he had gone too far, / Divorced him for deception.’
Bill Holloway's narrator stipulated, ‘Your taste may be for oysters, lentils, punk, a ton of
