"I am a lawyer who really should think about retiring; and I live and practice in a small Hampshire town. In truth, I never really wanted to write poetry, but found it a panacea to a novel I am writing, a novel which is usually going wrong.

The poems on this page are part of an anthology that I would love to have published one day: All are about life (as well as death - which, after all, is a fairly integral part of life!) I see my self as a fairly average Mr. Average; and I don't think there is anything too startling in my subjects: The thrill of adultery and the humiliation of being found out; the sanctuary that is the office loo, against the constant shrilling of the telephone; and on playing golf badly.... and, in many respects, golf, with all its vicissitudes is a thumb-nail sketch of life!

I believe that once you are entitled to subsidised bus passes, then it's time you tried to put something back into life - by looking back and getting it all down: Be your medium pen or paint brush or composer's score, you owe it to life to put down on paper the things that you got right and the things that you got wrong - the highs and the lows, the successes and the failures, the things that turned you on - and the things that turned you off.

When I was 50, I was thrust into three years of what, in the theatre, they would call, "Resting in between wives." They were three very formative years as far as my own development and my commitment to writing were concerned - but I am glad that they only lasted those three years: I managed to get the number of my childhood sweetheart who had, when I was 18 and away at sea, caused me not a little grief by getting married to someone else. With a single telephone call, the clock jumped back thirty years and we were married:
I am contented; and, for that, at least, I owe life a debt...."