Alex Linklater
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alexlinklater.bsky.social
Alex Linklater
@alexlinklater.bsky.social
290 followers 130 following 41 posts
Working title – "Antagonist: the life behind Hugh MacDiarmid"
https://scholarcommons.sc.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=2344&context=ssl
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alexlinklater.bsky.social
In praise of useless idiots
June 23, 2025 at 1:57 PM
alexlinklater.bsky.social
Phew!
May 26, 2025 at 6:29 PM
alexlinklater.bsky.social
Oh
May 26, 2025 at 6:26 PM
alexlinklater.bsky.social
What was the answer?
May 26, 2025 at 6:24 PM
alexlinklater.bsky.social
Aw, shucks!
March 23, 2025 at 4:51 PM
alexlinklater.bsky.social
God's own county
February 25, 2025 at 9:00 AM
alexlinklater.bsky.social
Watch out for throat lumps!
January 11, 2025 at 3:53 PM
alexlinklater.bsky.social
I’m sure you’d agree @ginorgym.bsky.social
January 11, 2025 at 2:48 PM
Reposted by Alex Linklater
asls.org.uk
Dear Ann, wherever you are
Since you lately learnt to die,
You are this unsetting star
That shines unchanged in my eye…

Born in Kirkwall, Ann Scott-Moncrieff was a friend of the Orkney poet & translator Edwin Muir, who wrote this poem for her when she died.
7/7
Edwin Muir FOR ANN SCOTT-MONCRIEFF (1914–1943) Dear Ann, wherever you are Since you lately learnt to die, You are this unsetting star That shines unchanged in my eye; So near, inaccessible, Absent and present so much Since out of the world you fell, Fell from hearing and touch— So near. But your mortal tongue Used for immortal use, The grace of a woman young, The air of an early muse, The wealth of the chambered brow And soaring flight of your eyes: These are no longer now. Death has a princely prize. You who were Ann much more Than others are that or this, Extravagant over the score To be what only is, Would you not still say now What you once used to say Of the great Why and How, On that or the other day? For though of your heritage The minority here began, Now you have come of age And are entirely Ann. Under the years’ assaults, In the storm of good and bad, You too had the faults That Emily Brontë had, Ills of body and soul, Of sinner and saint and all Who strive to make themselves whole, Smashed to bits by the Fall. Yet ‘the world is a pleasant place’ I can hear your voice repeat, While the sun shone in your face Last summer in Princes Street.
January 11, 2025 at 1:35 PM
alexlinklater.bsky.social
There’s some crazy here, too, but it’s much quieter (you use some long words for a 2-yr-old btw… looking forward to reading them tmrw!)
January 5, 2025 at 9:37 PM
alexlinklater.bsky.social
How would you like your satire, sir? Dark, please, seared with baby-eating, Swiftian streaks
January 3, 2025 at 12:45 PM