After Poet Laureate Andrew Motion haunted my dreams the other night, I discovered that he is coming to Oxfordshire.

On the day of his retirement from the post most poets believe is a poisoned chalice, Mr Motion is visiting his alma mater Radley College, where he will be talking to students about his new collection of poetry, The Cinder Path, and his collection of essays, Ways of Life: On Places, Painters and Poets.

I'm having a gander at the essays at the moment and I'm enjoying the piece he has written about a sea voyage to Italy he made in 1995, to retrace a journey made by John Keats.

It's the kind of thing I would love to do, if I only had the time. One of my grandfathers had a yacht which he would take me out on from time to time, so I reckon my sea legs would be OK.

Radley College's new head of English, Christopher Ellot, invited Mr Motion, and he was happy to oblige.

The poet's first published work appeared in the school mag The Radleian when he was a pupil at the school from 1966-71.

I'd love to see a copy and would like to give Mr Motion a pat on the back for the efforts he has made to promote poetry over the past decade, but I fear that won't be possible as I have a ticket to see my son's school play, which is far more important.

More good news on the ticket front. I've bought four for me and the Mrs to see Clive James and Frank Skinner at the Hay Festival.

I was once cheated out of the chance to hear a talk by Clive James at the Oxford Literary Festival, so I'm hoping for more luck this time round.

As you probably already know, I think Falling Towards England, the second of James's Unreliable Memoirs, is one of the funniest books on God's earth.

On a trip to the municipal library at Westgate the other day, I failed to find any JG Ballard books on the shelf, which is perhaps not surprising following his death.

Instead, I was tempted by a collection of AS Byatt short stories which were parked nearby, but put them back when I found a couple of interesting-looking novels in the second-hand section.

Therapy by David Lodge and Hotel New Hampshire by John Irving set me back 20p each and should keep me entertained for a little while.

No sign yet of St Paul's in Wartime, which I have asked a Bromley bookseller to send me through the post, but I'm keeping a close eye on the letterbox.