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The twenty-fifth  story in my collection, When I Am Not Writing Poetry, is ‘Last Words’ which is in fact the last you will hear of my three friends. And I give them the stage. Each, in their own words, has written something that brings everything that you have learnt – if you have followed (read the stories) them through this volume. Jan speaks first and then Professor Neil. Simon has the last word. The first excerpt is from Jan’s diary, the second from a letter which Simon sent to me.

Dear Diary. Today is the fifth sixth time I have seen him—same cafe, same table, same time on Saturday—although to be honest I don’t know when he arrives—before me, at any rate; and he leaves after me. Perhaps he is there every day. I am so sure I recognise him! The first couple of times he was joined by a rather pretty girl quite a bit younger than him…

How nice it was to hear from Neil and Jan after all these years. We had met before at a local artist’s reception in the university down here—it must have been ten years ago before they decamped to your little town with its smaller university where they were both able to become heads of departments. And now we have all met up again. Although I must confess I could hardly remember you! The white beard didn’t help! Actually I can hardly remember those walks back to the boarding school…

‘Last Words’ can be found in When I Am Not Writing Poetry – available here or on Amazon.

The twenty-fourth story in my collection, When I Am Not Writing Poetry, is ‘The Poetry Reading’ – not something that I often do as I don’t think I do them very well and, unfathomably, have a knack of misreading my own lines! But this is a fiction – perhaps based on one of my readings, perhaps not! The short poem by Malcolm Lowry that I have quoted in full at the end shows that I am not the only poet to have problems with words!

I have never really liked giving readings of my poetry. I am not sure why. Perhaps it is partly that I sense that my speaking voice is not the mellifluous voice I hear in my head, does not have the timbre that the poems deserve—that it does not—in my humble opinion, as they say—present them well. I am not a natural performer! Or perhaps it is that I seem to possess a skill, which surely must be unique to any wordsmith: I have the ability to read aloud a line that I have read hundreds of times before, a line which I wrote, for goodness sake, and probably spent some time over—agonising over the perfect word and word order for the sound of the line—for my poems are certainly written for the sound as much as the words on the page—and misspeak the one word on which the line hinges!

‘The Poetry Reading’ can be found in When I Am Not Writing Poetry – available here or on Amazon.

The twenty-third  story in my collection, When I Am Not Writing Poetry, ‘Diary Extracts of a Lockdown Addict’ is a series of snippets from my imaginary diary. None of them – except perhaps the last which memorialises a friend – is particularly significant. It was my life during lockdown! The first showed the state of my writer’s mind! There are six more!

Looking back at what he had just written, it occurred to him that in naming two of his characters he had somehow evoked that stage cowboy of his childhood years, Roy Rogers. Wondering if it was just chance—is there ever ‘just chance’—or whether something deeper had moved him to name Roy’s alter ego as Roger. Wondering if this was just his poet’s ear finding the logical, the apparently right word at the right time. Wondering if modern and all too real coronavirus masks had somehow resonated with the cowboy bandana. Was his subconscious really that shallow? He had, after all, been trying to buy a mask online and had given up after finding that nearly all failed to specify anything other than protection against dust. Even when he specifically searched for ‘medical protection masks’! Wondering if this was a case of retailers jumping on the bandwagon. Wondering… doubting that Roy, Roger and certainly not Roy Rogers had ever had that problem!

‘Diary Extracts of a Lockdown Addict’ can be found in When I Am Not Writing Poetry – available here or on Amazon.

The twenty-second  story in my collection, When I Am Not Writing Poetry, ‘Kinderszenen’ once again inhabits the back stories – possible back stories – of characters from The Dark Trilogy. Kinderszenen is the name Schumann gave to a collection of 13 short piano pieces, and the documentary I mention in the first paragraph was in part about Schumann … each of the 13 names that he gave the individual pieces can be found hidden in my story! I imagine meeting those same three friends from primary school again in later life. How would our pasts have appeared… how would we appear, now?! Maybe they would even take on the shape of their contrived back stories!

He had been making notes at the time: sitting in the cafe trying to recall a documentary he had seen the previous evening and relate it to the short story he was writing. There were certain similarities… not similarities exactly, maybe echoes, yes echoes that he felt could be woven in. If the characters could use a borrowed phrase, show some erudition, that sort of thing, he thought. The couple at another table had been talking animatedly—loudly—for some time and, engrossed, he had managed to block out the sound. Until now. Until he heard someone say, That’s absurd, Neil, it can’t be him! And Neil—presumably—pushed his chair back and leaning towards the writer, said, You know, I didn’t recognise you at first—the beard I suppose—but Jan did—she’s right… we were at school together. You’re… Jan shouted his name above the hubbub. And two of his characters were suddenly brought up to date. He was left wondering about the third.

‘Kinderszenen’ can be found in When I Am Not Writing Poetry – available here or on Amazon.

The twenty-first  story in my collection, When I Am Not Writing Poetry, ‘There’s Whisky in the Jar’ is another short account from my time at sea. This time from the early days when I very junior and very unsure over my supposed authority!

I always thought how intelligent was the approach taken in Hobart. But that was a couple of years after I had suffered the joy of loading whiskey in Glasgow. In Hobart, each hatch is given a crate of apples for their own use and this simple expedient ensures that every other crate loaded still contains its complete compliment of apples when the wharfies leave and the ship sails. Perhaps it wouldn’t work with whiskey.

‘There’s Whisky in the Jar’ can be found in When I Am Not Writing Poetry – available here or on Amazon.

Two-thirds of the way through my collection of thirty short stories, When I Am Not Writing Poetry, is another short tale of the sea, ‘The Guests in the Crew Bar’. In overseas ports after weeks at sea, some of the crew would invariably meet ladies in bars and invite them back on board. Some captains turned a blind eye… others most certainly did not! Again, a short story means a short introduction!

This Captain was devoutly religious and had very fixed ideas about the crew’s women staying on board overnight. He had made it very clear to all his officers that by 23:00 there should be no ladies left aboard… so clear, in fact, that the third officer began to dread his evening on duty, certain that the old man would spend its last hours on deck looking down at the gangway.

‘The Guests in the Crew Bar’ can be found in When I Am Not Writing Poetry – available here or on Amazon.

The nineteenth story in my collection of thirty, When I Am Not Writing Poetry, is ‘Ladies of the Port’ – another tale from my time at sea. An encounter in a foreign port and a misunderstanding quickly rectified! A short story means a short introduction!

One Saturday afternoon in Port Melbourne, where they were moored while waiting for a berth, a smart young man was to be seen standing at the foot of the gangway. He was accompanied by two very attractive young ladies. On spotting the deck officer near the top of the gangway he hailed him and asked if they might come aboard for a look round the ship.

‘Ladies of the Port’ can be found in When I Am Not Writing Poetry – available here or on Amazon.

The eighteenth story in my collection of thirty, When I Am Not Writing Poetry, is ‘Cargo’ – another tale of the sea, drawn from my time in the merchant navy. I still have in my possession the cargo plan with its macabre stowage. But a tale of a haunted ship? I don’t believe that I ever sailed on one!

The Third Officer was busy making copies of the cargo plan. It was the Second Officer’s job to decide where everything went, but as a part of his preparation for the time when it would be his task, he had been helping and this final, more mundane job had become his. He was slightly in awe of the cargo officer’s job as there were so many aspects to be considered when you decided where to load so many tons of bagged salt (the bottom of number 5 hold) or 19 unpacked —that is not travelling in boxes—cars (on top of everything else in the lower hold of number 3 hatch). There was the stability of the ship to consider of course so as each logistical decision was made there were frequent recalculations to make because cargo could be loaded in several ports—this trip only two—for discharge at any number of ports…

‘Cargo’ can be found in When I Am Not Writing Poetry – available here or on Amazon.

The seventeenth story in my collection of thirty, When I Am Not Writing Poetry, ‘The Poet’  – almost an autobiography, almost a teaser for The Dark Trilogy: a parallel story of the Svengali-like friend who – it is suggested – was responsible for a literary career. The scholar, the academic, the writer who explained a poem!

Twenty years ago my friend asked me to write a book…

To be more precise, he asked me to write a commentary on one of his poems and, in that small commission, what has perhaps become my most famous work was born. And he died. But I am proud to say that through my work, he lives on. You can learn much of the man and his works in my lengthy treatise—you will learn of his public life and of the story of his lives that was hidden in the poem

‘The Poet’ can be found in When I Am Not Writing Poetry – available here or on Amazon.

The sixteenth story in my collection of thirty, When I Am Not Writing Poetry, ‘Her’ is one man’s awakening – literally – a time when he cannot quite tear himself from the past nor face the future that the day will bring. His dreams of his life so real; until…

It was not unusual for him to lie there awake. The heat of the day remained, trapped in the small room under the eaves; trapped in his body which was damp with perspiration; trapped in his mind. He had long since thrown back the covers and now the cooler night airs that occasionally drifted in through the window chilled his sweat, but only briefly. His mind remained feverish. In turmoil. He had been here for months now and the time had passed pleasantly enough—the summer had been fine and he knew that by now the harvest was in, the hay stacked in the barns and the barley heaped on a shed floor. Now, as the nights began to draw in he suddenly felt unsure. He reached out.

First there had been the chaos of sorting the lambs for market…

‘Her’ can be found in When I Am Not Writing Poetry – available here or on Amazon.