Harry Boyer

My new relation found through a DNA website has constructed a family tree which in turn has had me ruminating on my forebears, or at least some of them.  My Grandad Harry died when I was very young, my recollections of him are sparse & would fit on the back of a postcard ( a … More Harry Boyer


With my ever advancing years there are few things that I find more satisfying in life these days than a darned good rant. Now in my book a rant is an invective filled tirade of a thing, replete with expletives and language from the gutter, it should go on for an extended period and inculcate … More Rant

Women are Poems.

Akka Mahadev, 12th Century Karnatakan Poet, who went around naked. Clothes she felt were aesthetically unnecessary. I like the sound of her & was also rather struck by her idea that every woman is a poem. Here’s one slightly silly rhyme I’ve knocked up. with apologies to Mahadevi. The March of time wears down hard … More Women are Poems.


Spring is here, I know this because on my perfunctory perambulations in the local park I am greeted by daffodils & croci poking their heads up through the grass, all stalks bending in the march wind & flowers straining towards the warmth of the sun. I do likewise, sitting on an old park bench my … More Walkies


New tales beckon from the year to come Lay the old days to rest with the year end sun laughter and memories remembered reveries A candle lit and a glass or two raised To old friends lost or simply mislaid Lets meet one day and recount our tales Of madcap adventures and lost holy grails … More N.Y.E

The Confessions of a Rambling Man. Chapter 14

Landing at Fiumicino the first thing my man brain registers – bright fluorescent lights of the airport shopping mall, glitzy designer clothing stores, then the sight of women in heels, the rhythmic clacking of those same heels on polished marble floors – six months spent by the beach in Asia meant that invariably the women … More The Confessions of a Rambling Man. Chapter 14

The Confessions of a Rambling Man Chapter 12

Tim had an unfailing ability to be able to echo locate a party at will, in fact it was a given that were you to be at any decent party on a Saturday night anywhere close to Portobello Road then there you would find Tim. 

Remarkably Tim’s party nose even worked in India, A friend of mine he announced is having his 50th Birthday party down at OM beach, it’s a weekend thing, should be quite good why don’t you come? … More The Confessions of a Rambling Man Chapter 12


I don’t know about you but this Rheumatoid Arthritis business is a bit daunting to say the least, why do the simplest thing have to turn into a saga?
Take for instance getting an X-ray … More X-Ray

Growing Older

My eyes grow weaker with the passing of the years and yet somehow I find  beauty in the smallest of things where once I raced by. The voice that once boomed has grown less insistent, my ears better at listening,  I learnt to recognise the fool & the sage Wise enough now to see them … More Growing Older

Hippy Shit.

Welcome to another thrilling instalment of Martin’s arthritis diaries.  Well it’s been an illuminating week, a visit to the hospital has brought news which I was not expecting, I require a new hip, apparently one of the two that I came with is what is colloquially known in the trade as totally fuc*ed. Also an operation on … More Hippy Shit.


Tuesday morning eight a.m. & I creak the twenty steps to the bathroom for morning ablutions, my stick aids my faltering steps, knees and ankles remind me if I needed the prompt that my rheumatoid arthritis didn’t disappear by magic overnight. Business completed I open the skylight and poke my head out of the window, … More Starling

Plan B Thursday.

The days and the months are racing by and though I feel their passing my arthritis has this habit of subsuming any notion of time turning day after day into a Groundhog Day kind of repetition. My daily task more often than not just trying to cope with the pain in my joints and get … More Plan B Thursday.


I wake on Friday morning at five something, tune in to the BBC World service for the news, there’s something in my head that makes me feel just a little connected to the World I’m in if I listen to it without actually being out there and involved. Unfortunately there have been kidnappings in Nigeria, … More M.A.D.


Saturday night London, what will it hold this City of more than seven million souls on this first evening of reimposed lockdown?  Taxi’s here shouts Sam, I am the last out of the house & into the taxi,  it’s a nine mile journey from a North London house into Town, we are all in masks … More Satnite

Love Locks

The first time I remember seeing padlocks on a bridge was in Paris, on the Pont Des Arts, which straddles the Seine close by Notre Dame. When I got there I was amazed, this bridge was covered in thousands and thousands of padlocks. … More Love Locks