Back again after a long delay

I cant believe it was Feb 2018 that I last wrote a post.

Then my password was compromised and I had to change it but just didn’t get around to it.  I was living in Las Palmas de Gran Canaria at the time and sort of losing direction. I´d gone back to teaching Maths and Physics and had enjoyed most of my time. I managed a decade of teaching in Qatar, Abu Dhabi, Chengdu (China), Almaty (Kazakhstan) and occasionally back in England but the pleasure was going again.

Don’t get me wrong – I still enjoy being in a classroom teaching. But I just can´t deal with the fact that I have to justify every second of every day, usually to someone who has no clue about what it means to be a teacher. Then the school in Gran Canaria allowed parents to send in anonymous complaints – a recipe for bullying.

I stopped writing as I was lost..

cover 1

Yes I have draft versions of “Trans-Uranic Elements: The Dark Side of Uranus” and “Fairy Hanny and The Sons of Turenn.” Plus I have outlines for three books featuring Inspector Hunter Flaange; then there is the semi-autobiographical trilogy “Going to California”. Picking up a pen to write or editing a document just became too much.

I went off on a tangent – not bad for a Maths teacher. I started writing lots of poetry with the plan to publish a book of my serious and humorous stuff – I’m still working on it.

Then travel got in the way. I spent the summer of 2018 in Spain (Granada and Gran

Canaria) and England then started a new job in Casablanca – here’s looking at you kid!

Again the writing went to the wall.

New years resolution was to start again and I have. I am rewriting “Strange Things From Uranus” as a second edition with new jokes. I am also working on a couple of online businesses, and as I learn more about that I will write a new blog to help guide others along that path.


So for now, I’m back – watch this space!

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Man Shook!

Something told me it was over;

Actually It was Etta James.


When I sensed,

You and him kissing.


Istanbul Modern walking down the rain poured path,

Clear my suede shoes.

They´re not blue!

No I left them at the causeway between here and now.






We both ended up wet in the rain of Galata Bridge wet fish.

“Over there is the Spice Market!”

“You took me there, I felt nothing!”


I mused on this as the rain seeped into my jacket.

Over a decade since I was awarded this honour.


Actually any lager will do – it´s a great place to hide. 

My father patrolled.

In a time before my time.

Purple helmets bursting into flames.


I hit a tree full of poets,

A poet tree.

Broken face would be dismissed by the new age of travellers.


It was just a consequence.



“Shall I grab this?”


Flattering at ten pm


Late night dalliances!

She would not come tomorrow,

Devout male needed, pure, chaste, unavailable-



Don´t do it boy!

But here,

Waiting, Subliminally smelling!



We´ve done three of the eight, I said.

Not impressed, still down from the Dutch angle.


So as the sacred mystery loomed we did the deed then she tried to hide the body.

Green Café.

“I´ll see you there.”

Not wanting to return to the scene of her crime.

Wisdom packed into queues.


I cant be bothered this time.


She gleamed in the desultory sunshine!

“I have a new job! I am so happy! I will be so busy I will never see you again!”


I sat in the hotel, wet white sheets, crusted with missed love.

“OK I understand… 

Then he waited.

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Last Supper

And it came to pass that they were having a glass or two of vino.

Jesus looked but only saw 11 disciples. Yet in the place of Judas was a six pack of Guinness.

“What is that?”

“That´s Judas´Carry out” replied James.

“Will he be along later?”

“I doubt it,” said Thomas.

“What about some music? Peter you are the Rock star. Play some heavy metal.”

And Lo, Peter did play some Nine Inch Nails.

“Why are you dressed in all of those dark clothes?” asked Jesus.

“I thought it was a Black Sabbath,” said Mathew, Mark, Luke and John.

It was a great night though later on Peter let himself down a bit; you should never wait up for the cock.

And in the morning, Jesus Swept.

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My right foot

She who must not be mentioned says she must not be mentioned.

So I will talk about my right foot.


Karate and me, March 2017


It is still there, despite an attempt many years ago by a taxi driver, who due to lack of sleep and lack of intelligence, decided to drive his taxi through my motorcycle. This would have been fine save for the fact that I was astride said motorcycle at the time. Fortunately for me I was actually riding at the speed limit at the time, a rare event in those days. So in the collision I was only travelling at 30mph, a fact which, the investigating Police Officer eventually told, probably saved my life.

As a Physicist I understand the conservation of momentum. So motorcycle and rider moving at 30 mph becomes instantly motorcycle stopped then much of the momentum is transferred to the rider. This means the rider moves forward at a speed greater than 30 mph. Or he would do if his right leg was not between now stationary motorcycle and taxi!

I still remember flying forward over the bonnet, flipping in the air and landing with a sickening thud on the road. Strangely enough I landed in what First Aiders call ´the recovery position´. Except for one problem.

My right foot was next to my left knee!

Yes folks, my right leg had developed an extra joint, now bent in half mid shin.

Compound fracture right tibia and fibula, said my hospital notes.

“Are you alright?” as the taxi driver as he stepped out of his cab.

“Do I feckin well look alright?” I asked in a mixture of pain and anger.

The paramedics scraped me off the floor and took me to hospital where I spent six weeks without recovery. For the next 5 months I was back and forth to hospital for check-ups and advice.

But my break was not healing.

So my consultant brought me in.

“We need to try a bone graft,” he explained. “We take some slivers of bone from your left hip and put them into the break site so they will start to generate bone growth. This is our last option.”

“What if it doesn´t work?”

“We will have to amputate.”

Not the kind of thing you want to hear at 25, or at any age really.

It worked. 


PADI in Qatar


I still have my right foot though it doesn’t work properly. It droops when I get tired, aches in the November rain, and trips me up on pavements sometimes.


soldier! (2)

Training at Brecon, 2008


Despite that I went on to achieve Brown belt in Karate, Sailing coach, Army Cadet Officer, Climbing Instructor, writer, passed my PADI Open water scuba diving course and travelled much of the world. One long term after effect is that I can put stress into context – when you have a near death experience losing luggage on a flight becomes irrelevant.


So my right foot and no pictures of paintings.


I´m doing well.


As to my left foot..

That was a movie about Christy Brown, played by Daniel Day Lewis. Released in 1989.


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I suppose ´stupid´ is the best word

So there is this woman I know. Cute in a tall sort of way.

I´m not sure if you call her east European as she is from Belarus which apparently is still part of Russia. I never quite got a grip of the Decline and Fall of the Soviet Empire.

Anyway, she´s nice. We met at a few social functions, I got her number, we chatted online.

So I invited her to a few social events and a coffee!!! Always too busy – yes I get it. I´m an old codger and so I frighten 30 somethings! Actually not true in China or Kazakhstan.

Continue Mr M!

So I put together an impromptu BBQ at mine tomorrow night. Of course I sent her an invite.


“I must be a good girl this weekend. Have an important exam next week”

Then round about midnight she changes her profile pic to one at a nightclub…


So I will feck off!!!


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Women, women, women and women!

So Anna is angry at me for wanting to promote her Art work through my Twitter and Facebook accounts. I would normally drop one of her pictures in here but I will give it a miss this time. I don´t get it!  Creative people who want to commercialise their work need publicity – yes?


Talking of which

Korlan has just celebrated her birthday by referring to me as her dearest friend! We went out a few times when I lived in Kazakhstan. Now she is living and working in Israel. My sister used to be married to a guy from Palestine so I know the plight of the people of the Holy Land very well. If I say I despise the way the Israelis treat Palestinians then I am berated as anti-semitic. This is just bollocks. I am anti-fascist. I hate it when anybody uses their Religious beliefs to bully and terrorise, whether it is Christian Crusades and slaughter of Native Americans, Islamic State or Zionists. All bastards as far as I am concerned.

Marjo is sweet and using me as her personal taxi service. Which is fine because she is also introducing me to other people. I will finally get round to purchasing the BBQ set I´ve been planning and get some friends round tomorrow.

Then again Daisy Daffoldil has disappeared. I was there when she let the bottom drop out of her world. Now she appears to have taken time out of reality.

Which takes me back to an interview I had four years ago in Qatar. The new Head of the Secondary school decided she wanted to really get to know her new colleagues. SO she organised a personal interview for each of us, asking us all the same questions of course..

She went for the classic three strngths and three weaknesses question – I´m sure you´ve all heard it!

Being divorced twice and having many failed relationships I couldn´t resist answering my number 1 weakness,

“I´m not very good when it comes to picking women!”

She was not amused.

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Friends, stupidity, the beach, boobs and bums

Today I got stuck on a couple of paragraphs, attempting to explain the delights of floating down the River Thyme on a barge. I had the two Elf´s, Mad Tom of Bedlam, Mad Magdalene and Fairy Hanny on the barge of Mr. O´Nighon. I just couldn´t make the text flow like I saw the river flow.

So I contacted my good friend  Anna in Kazakhstan. We chatted about the differences between men and women, as backed by a series of Scientific studies. Anna is an incredible artist.


It appears women can discern colours better, are more religious, more likely to give to charity and talk more than men.

What might we say to Sherlock at this point?

It worked.

I soon had my team heading on through their latest adventure on Uranus, the new quest being to find the Witch who is playing with the Space-Time continuum and causing havoc for Banshees in Liverpool and a coach load of Essex girls intent on a good night out.

The jokes started coming thick and fast with three-legged frogs and chickens, a rock that looks like a Jailhouse (that´s what happens when Elf´s speak Elvis) and a posh scouser in Hlither Poler.

Of course I needed euphemisms for boobs and bums – it´s the way I write, right?


Wahwahs was a new one on me!

So after 6 hours of chatting and writing I decided to head to the beach and read for a bit.

So I hit the beach at 4pm on a hot day, take off my flip-flops and start crossing the sand toward the water. It´s further than it looks and my feet began to burn…

Ok so yeas a long time ago I did gain a B.Sc. in Physics so I should know about conduction, convection and radiation of heat.

But feck me I burnt the souls of my feet.

Going back to the earlier conversation with Anna about differences between men and women… no way would I stop and put my flip-flops back on.

More Science to show men are stupid.


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