Category: My Blog

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…

Playing with words

The professional career politician-wearing makeup prepares for the show and smiling to the camera plays with words. Old men laugh and shake their heads as the game of words is played out again. Winston Churchill once said, “The best argument against democracy is a five minute conversation with the average voter!” People who write letters to the local newspaper concentrate…

England at Ease

Drugged out, wearing a dickey bow tie, kinky cat, in a Chelsea flat, dreaming of Hedgehogs and Nightingale’s, on daddy’s country estate.Was it an illusion that England was at ease, at ease with itself, the summer of 1964, fools with tools of music making magic? The weekend Beatnik hippy, making a pretence at dropping out.I can hear Frank Ifield singing,…

Until the snow comes and won’t go away.

A mystery Springtide once took us away, along a leaf mould path where we built an underground house. We swore each other to keep the secret of that place; “Until the snow comes and won’t go away”! In that now far away time, that twilight road to sunset, had something of the eternal, as we waited for its glory to…

Sand Castles

Sand Castles, children on the beach building sand castles, with little bags of flags for young patriots’. Would that it were possible for everything to stay that way, but the tide will always come in and wash the castles away. The sand castles of the young were shared, we had no sense of ownership, what a tragedy it is that…