Category: My Blog

For those who still dare to say ‘Hello’

Soho square 1967, people eating their sandwiches. ‘Hello’ in the air as ordinary as the wind. I don’t know why that day sticks in my mind, maybe it was an England at peace with itself? Whatever was there that day as summer turned to autumn, it spoke of days and eternities, something in the mind of God, kept special. A…

Watching on madness

A slow smoke wafts across the moonlight, tonight young dreamers will dream. Some will swallow the hook of systemite mind games and be hell bent on, ‘Being someone’ or ‘’something’. The great slippery pole of career and ambition will poison their lives, till one day in their sixties or seventies they will ask, “Who put it there?” Making a mark…

December Man

December man, you who made the silent turn from the Rosemary of youth to the place where exiled hearts sleep. The skies mysterious benediction with heresies of purple. The noon of a dreadful day that knows that January will never come again.

In search of Rossi’s ice cream parlour

Summer 1968. “Quick,” shouted my friend Bruce, as his car skidded to a stop! ‘I’ve got a bird you got to see at Rossi’s ice cream parlour Southend!’ ‘Get in’ shouted Bruce, we drove at the speed of the wind, Bruce puce in the face looking like ET with a rash. We finally arrived. I was somewhat concerned when Bruce…

Dry Leaves

Dry leaves on a bed of memories, the way through the woods, footpathsunknown only to us, in dense winding ways of wonder. Vast adrenalin kingdoms were ours, young lives strangely blessed by the writer with the mask, powered naïve non- awareness, before we knew even the shadow of evil. The Trickster’s footsteps echoed even then, as his plan came with…

Natural aliens

I went to the local supermarket. There were no walkways in between where the cars were parked. The only safe place to walk was in the path of the traffic, this I attempted to do. As I approached the supermarket entrance, I heard the cheerful dulcet tones of an Essex voice, “look where you are walking you f…… tosser!” After…

The class of 61

Memories are sometimes like machine gun bullets, I hear them fire as I recall those days, when we longed for our gentle evenings, far away from the pervert’s idol and the classroom prison. Born to the simple folk on the hill whose trusting hearts were totally betrayed by the teacher’s shining smiles. Jimmy Jones my classmate shaking with fear, we…

The Oxford Blues Man. (OBM)

Explanatory note: I’m so fed up with English singers singing in an AmericanAccent, I thought just for once, the tables could be turned!   Chris. Original:  “Well I woke up this morning and the blues came walking in the room” OBM: “On rising today I felt frightfully ill, that damnable cad Bonko slipped me a Mickey Finn, just to keep me away…

To the end of tyrant time

The Suffolk skyline moves to a strange elsewhere divide, I feel a pain that no words can tell, as sunset burns lives and motion turns to dust. Soon I will disappear like that cloud I trace, unique never to repeat its shape. Torn desolate loneliness remains, and this my landscape lover proves as unfaithful as a tired prostitute. All this…