On my first day in the Poetry Library I was introduced to Ivor Cutler, a face and voice I recognized from The Magical Mystery Tour and from John Peel’s radio show. Larger than life, with a sunflower in his hat, he asked are you a poet? I later learned, through watching him with other readers in the Library, that this was his roundabout way of showing you his poetry. Which was always a pleasure - especially the new stuff, that he’s just written on the tube (which was why the drawing in his book always looked jagged; he’d draw them and show them to people sitting opposite him) on the way to the South Bank. I remember a new one about how, if you say a baby on the sidewalk, you must check it’s breath for whiskey. In love with poetry, I was trying to write my own at the time as well, which he always asked about and encouraged. The pinnacle was when he read one of my own poems to me, at the Poetry Library front desk, and what was a pretty poor, amateurish effort somehow sounded resonant in his earthy, musical Scottish accent. This was the place for me to work! It was always a delight to see people’s faces when they came into the Library and saw that he was there - it was like the complete poetry experience. A colleague of mine told me of a woman who had come into the Library and asked if we had poetry by Ivor Cutler. He showed her where it was and said that if she was to stick around for a while, she might see the man in person. She flashed him a look of disbelief, as if he was lying to her. Half an hour later, and right on cue (he was a daily visitor at this point) Ivor came in and, ever willing to please his fans, found the woman and read some of his poetry to her. According to my colleague, the woman had tears running down her face as he did this - tears of laughter no doubt, as she was told to check the baby’s breath for whiskey…