Friday 20 October 2023


Sometimes memories surface and who knows why? Events that I have given no thought to for decades pop up and sometimes I think that might make a poem. This is the story of a crime I committed over forty years ago.


my camouflage that year was

a marjons football club jumper

I stole from the Student Union shop

the time I volunteered to accompany

Heather who was intermitting to

join Operation Raleigh for six moths

the Deputy President was anxious that

everyone should know exactly where

she had just come from

I simply picked up my prize

and failed to add it to the list

of clothing she had chosen

in the outside world

I wore it sparingly and only

when I needed fabric credibility

not that anyone ever commented

or bothered to admit they had

taken in the embroidery on my left breast

but it gave me comfort

as I navigated my new reality

The lines wrote themselves and the breaks seemed to fit. I've polished it up a little but essentially this is how the poem arrived. Operation Raleigh was a opportunity for young people to participate in a scientific adventure. I had the jumper for a number of years, it was quite well made I seem to remember. Marjons still has a football club and I still have never played football. Though I am happy to pay for my jumper should anyone wish me to.

The photographs this post are all from Wednesday. The sea at Meadfoot was choppy. Here's Spirogyra with Captain's Log

Until next time.


  1. Hi Paul ... I was sitting next to you at the Lighthouse in Deal 25th Oct. Was great to hear you read. I esp liked that you said one can find poetry everywhere. Completely agree. You had to leave before I read , but you did bring my bag back ! :-) - Here is one of mine, from one of my everywheres ...


    She takes me by the hand
    and into the second chamber
    where it is somehow possible
    to purchase the invisible perfume
    of flowers and a hundred other scents,
    each held fugitive under glass.
    I lift one -
    the sound of a street guitar
    below a single male song;
    another, the gingered syrup
    around the passion fruit ice;
    a third, the sprawl of a sleeping child
    laid in a startle
    across the father's chest.

  2. Ron, thanks for taking the time to visit the blog and, especially, leave a poem. Sorry I wasn't able to stay to hear you read.
    I like the poem. The idea that scents trigger memories works well with the dream like setting. I know Barcelona well and you offer a thoughtful picture of the city.
    I'd like to read more of your work if that's possible. I'll ask Ana to give you my email.
    Thanks again.

    1. Thanks for the encouraging comment Paul. I'd like to share some more. I recently (self-)published a first collection. Been writing since about 14. I'll look forward to getting yr email via Ana. Ron

    2. I look forward to reading your book Ron. Have a good weekend.