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Come on you blues

Gascoigne has already read Fever Pitch. Now he wants to read more

By Nicholas Lezard   October 1996

The year’s last swallows dipped and weaved in the twilight; pipistrelles fluttered beneath the ivied arches, and the college fountain plashed and tinkled as musically as it had done every day for the last four centuries. The crisp, smoky smell of autumn was in the air. Softly the ancient clock chimed the quarter-hour. As he drank in the scene from the senior common room windows, Gervase Dewell, JVC Professor of Passing Technique, shrugged his ageing, but still bearish, shoulders beneath his gown, and thought, happily, as he always did around now: it will be dinner soon. Time, perhaps, for a…

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