Friday, October 26, 2012

New Book Out

I have just published a verse novel called Vintage Ghosts (Francis Boutle publishers, London).  It relates the experience of a group of (mostly) old men who regularly look at and write to a website full of vintage images like the one depicted.  They yearn for the glamour and innocent eroticism of their youth. It's highly entertaining.  At least, it entertained me!

Thursday, July 5, 2012

New Particle Discovered!

Prof. Higgs Boson today announced the amazing discovery of a new particle entirely without mass and with pointless energy, the Tonyblur.


While I'm useless with new technology, I do find I enjoy skyping with congenial people.  If you fancy skyping me, contact me at

Thursday, May 27, 2010

don-whitehotel: Flight and Smoke

don-whitehotel: Flight and Smoke

Flight and Smoke

Francis Boutle publishers has just brought out my new verse collection Flight and Smoke, previously available only in a signed/limited edition. Price £7.99. Dirt cheap!

Thursday, April 22, 2010

First Light

I’d whooping cough, so I was told,
at six weeks, or more likely six months, old;

and I recall as though it were today
what must have been a fierce cough racking me

although I seem outside my own distress
till I can breathe again. Primal, it’s less

a memory than something I still feel,
as real as now is. There’s a woman’s pale

face looking on, upset: I’m sure, my aunt’s;
and I am being held, although I can’t

feel mother’s arms: I seem to float
mid-air. It’s murky, from my sight

being still weak, I suppose; but I’m aware
of the pale face, and larger paleness where

I’ll later know one looks out at a carn.
This is where I was for an instant born

into myself, a being in the world,
and I don’t feel the cough, nor being held,

but love I see and feel. Including light.
And both seem known to me, and infinite.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

from Russia with love

In Russia

I notice that it's a full year since I wrote here. The main cause is Russia. In June, Angela and I took a cruise from Moscow to Petersburg, and it re-invigorated all my love for Russian culture, history and literature. When we came back I plunged into writing a long poem, The Russia Train, and when I'd laid that aside for a few months --since I was too close to it to be able to look at it critically-- I started translating Pushkin's 'Eugene Onegin'. I've finished that now, and I can draw breath. And hopefully write here from time to time.

I had a wonderful birthday present in January from Angela, a new website. It's at