The last time I was in England, I was fascinated by the contrasts in English society and in everyday English life. It's a country of scones and cream and hat-lifting 'good mornings'  and stomach-churning piles of decaying rubbish and gratuitous 'fuck-yous'. That's what this poem was about. I have just "polished it up" for La_Flaca.

Church spires lured me,
and I swooned for
greengage jam and scones.
History piled stones on history
and on that gentleness
of town and country English
born, middle-classed.
garden-rooted, pub-lunched
reasonableness, socked me
in my guts.

But there is
another England not to be
swooned for then or now or ever.
Privilege piled on poverty lying
out in doorways, town street
kip-outs, community care despairing
in dingy doorway dug-outs,
while booze and fags and fuck-you
feed on plastic food and
souless hair.

Getting Back Into It

Someone once told me, - I can't remember who or when. It may even have been in a dream! - that writing requires two things, - time and discipline. Well that explains all my problems, but I do agree! So I'm starting with the idea that I should write something everyday, without necessarily publishing it on this blog or finishing it, or writing to some purpose. I don't thinks that it even needs to be something coherent, or even especially interesting. I think I should just write, - checking out my basic skills from punctuation to discourse and forcing myself to think about what I am writing.

This morning I started a poem - ( no it's nowhere near ready to be seen!) - and yesterday I blogged an invitation to anyone out there to join me and this afternoon, here I am blogging again. I also have quite an exciting new idea for a story.

Somebody has already asked me whether we shouldn't do all this in Spanish. Why not? Language should never be a barrier to creation.

A Thousand and One Excuses

I'm starting this because 40 years ago, I made a decision to write, and for many years I did. I was never greatly successful, although I've had a reasonable number of poems and short-stories published.Indeed, I even ran workshops and seminars for those who wanted to write. And there are at least two people who have gone on from those workshops to achieve real success.
However, in the last 5 or 6 years I haven't done much more than think about it. A couple of weeks ago, I was cleaning out a drawer in my office when I found an old note book from 15 years ago, and leafing through it I found poems and ideas for stories that I had forgotten all about, - and what was worse there were some really good ideas there.
I began thinking - you know those hammer-blows of conscience! Here's something that one  really wants to do, but doesn't because ... ? or can't because ...? I been turning this round in my head trying to think, but the only clear thought I have is that one needs company. I can't believe that nobody else has this sinking sense of failure to do something one really wants to do. So I have started this blogspot for me and any of you out there who are in the same boat.
So, where should we begin?