It is forty years since dear old John Betjeman died. When his centenary (2006) was approaching, his daughter Candida asked me to write his biography, which I did, with great trepidation. As the years go by, one revises one’s views of everything and everyone – or I do, at least. I idolized Betjeman when I was a young man. He seemed to be everything I admired – Anglo-Catholic, muddled, a poet, a champion of threatened architecture, especially Victorian architecture. Now… I still love him, and much of his verse is in my head. But…what do I think?
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