XXVI

Violet-scented mother superiors of the Violet Convent

Chewing their dentures; old sorority girls twiddling

Their beaded necklaces like Irish rosaries as they hold court

In the clutter of hoary relics from old moribund sideboards

Hung with that unmistakeable bouquet of potpourri

And moth-repelling camphor, mingled liberally

With the artificial pastoral spray, vintage vapour,

Odour of DEVON VIOLET –scent of vicarious impoverishment

Dressed up in retro-patterns of taffeta curtains in past-time...

...Oldie-worldie curiosity boutiques with curvaceous art deco

Combing glass window-displays entombing deep-set doors,

Not lost and found shops, but mothballed lavender tombs

Of lumpen pharaohs, old dressing-tables of violet-scented

Nefertitis obfuscated by lifetimes’ mystifying fumes,

Who remember the days of real celebrities, true stars;

Of legions of oestrogen envious of Elizabeth Taylor’s

Violet eyes; of sniffing disapprovals and fuming over

Profumo; of averting sighs during the 'Chatterley' Affair;

Who can almost remember their own menopausal mothers

Traumatised by Black Narcissus, massacring hankies

Through Brief Encounter in fugs of cheap cigarette-smoke

And DEVON VIOLET's chipper whisps percolating like

Acrid incense in dark confessionals of misty picture houses;

Gossiping about the bed-hopping of Bloomsbury Set, those

Loose-living bohemians and that unnatural, vivacious

Violet Trefusis –what was it she said, by way of an epithet?

“Across my life only one word will be written: “Waste” –

Waste of love, waste of talent, waste of enterprise” –What

She meant was decadence, of course, that’s what she meant…

XXVII

But isn’t ‘waste’ the cri de Coeur of the spoilt kids today,

So spoilt, in fact, that Tories are taking their toys away –

Fees for their tuitions trebled, shelf-stacking schemes

Rolled out for post-graduates, that’ll teach them to appreciate

The cost of education, the human price of unemployment,

The worth of their Micky Mouse degrees –but they’ve no

Right to complain about it, their debts will be paid off by

The time of their retirement, too late for mortgages,

Generation Rent will never know the sweet taste of material

Self-betterment, nor the smell of dignified labour, a bit

Like carbolic soap, not those proud odours sourced from...