As a student in 1971 I was desperate to be “hip”, and as the social secretary of my hall of residence at Nottingham University, I booked Brian Patten (Obituary, 30 September) to read at an evening of poetry.

The elfin figure who arrived alone was totally devoid of airs and graces, and had an Ariel-like presence. After a mesmerising series of readings, he inquired if there was a floor in someone’s room he could sleep on – as students we never thought of anything as obvious as accommodation. Many students offered their floors. I have no idea where he slept and the next morning he was gone.
Iain Melvin
Askerswell, Dorset

Working-class kids weren’t the only ones to take inspiration from Brian Patten, Adrian Henri and Roger McGough. In 1969 I was teaching the children of privileged parents at a London crammer. Most had failed at boarding school or been thrown out. The Liverpool poets were the gateway drug, leading them to Shelley and Shakespeare.
Ruth Valentine
London

On the day Brian Patten died, we were coincidentally reading his poems at the Brighton and Hove U3A poetry group. We love his poems and hope we accorded him a suitably respectful send-off.
Hilary Skelton
Brighton