My life and colour

When Gerald Fowler, the Minister for Education and his entourage emerged from the theatre it was a startling sight. The smoke of the rescue flare thrown into the theatre by a student had dyed his face and his white shirt a very bright pink and intended to show that he wasn’t  a real socialist – he wasn’t red enough. The minister of education couldn’t hide his look of fury as the press took photographs. And he looked angrier as he caught the sound of a student laughing loudly.

(Short story excerpt)





I worked today

in green cargo shorts

cutting grass

in the orchard

Thoughts turned

to boyhood

and wearing short trousers

and chilblains

you never hear

of them these days

Or the blistering

pain of cold hands

fingers and feet

coming home

and sitting

with bowls

of warmed water.

Winters of such coldness

of fogs and days

of endless rain

and taking turns

hanging coats

near a coke stove

in the school room

and then snows

that fell in heaps

and weeks

of blackened



and crops frozen

in fields.

Good old days.