The womb, or this womb, isn’t such a bad place, a little like the grave, “fine and private” in one of my father’s favourite poems. I’ll make a version of a womb for my student days, set aside the Enlightenments of Rosbifs, Jocks and Frogs. Away with the real, with dull facts and hated pretence of objectivity. Feeling is queen. Unless she identifies as king.
He is speaking of putting aside facts and ration thinking and just believe the truth as he finds/make it?
Rosbifs, Jocks, and Frogs.--jauntily referring to French enlightenment thinkers like Jean-Jacques Rousseau .??
