Monthly Archives: March 2025

Shakespeare’s Monkey

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Little Egret

An answer I made to Tootlepedal in the comments about writing a lot and letting blind chance sift through it for the good bits reminded me of this poem.

As I was about to press the Publish button, it struck me that I may have posted it before as it seemed familiar. The trouble is that a lot of them seem familiar because they spent so much time inside my head.

Anyway, it seems I did post it before. Sorry if it seems repetitious. I note from reading the version in the other post that it has a different haiku in each place. The one in the other post was the one it was originally written with, the one here is how I sent it. Sometimes I make last minute alterations, and sometimes I don’t make sure all the versions are consistent.

I now think that the unused haiku is better than the one I eventually submitted. At the time, I obviously thought that the other version was an improvement. It was published, so it must have done the job.

Shakespeare’s Monkey
Another rejection. My words have, again, forked no lightning. This is driven home by the fact that I borrow the words of Dylan Thomas to describe my situation. However, I am convinced that if I write enough, I will eventually produce a sonnet of enduring excellence or a haibun that brings tears to the eyes of an editor. Tears of joy, that is. They like you to be clear about such things.

new poems—
the favourites I have not
yet read

First published Blithe Spirit November 2022

Little Egret at Aldeburgh

The pictures are Egrets because they are quite poetic birds, and I have no pictures of monkeys.

Some Thoughts on Acceptances and Happiness

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Lowestoft

I had a strange acceptance last night. It’s for the autumn. Sometimes it happens – an editor likes two poems, only has room for one, so saves if for later. It’s a little annoying that they only use one at a time, but nice to know it’s good enough to keep for later. I also had a fresh acceptance.

As I’ve said before, it’s tricky counting what is a “submission”. If you count every group of poems I’ve sent off, I have made 10 submissions. Five of them were to one magazine, but they are to individual editors in different forms. The other five sets were sent to three magazines where decisions seem to made jointly, so is that three or five submissions? Anyway, whatever happens, I have had five acceptances, and cannot get more than 5 rejections so I’m going to be 50/50 for the month, at least.

Dolphin – Sutton on Sea

In fact, I am going to make a decision. Different editors and different forms – that’s a submission. Different forms to a single editor or group of editors – that’s one submission.  So I made eight submissions last month and so far have had five acceptances and two rejections, having just one submission waiting for an answer. It reduces my submissions counting towards the 100 a year target, but it makes my percentages look better. Swings and roundabouts.

The two that rejected me have never accepted anything from me in the past, so I wasn’t expecting much. The magazine that hasn’t replied yet is one I’ve never submitted to before so I’m waiting with bated breath . . .

Today I have to start submitting for next month. And so it goes on . . .

I’m feeling quite buoyant today. Maybe it’s the spring. Maybe it’s the acceptances. The answer, I feel, is to keep writing.

Today’s photos are more from the same lot I used yesterday – July 2018.

Plaques on the hand rail – Southwold

Meeting Ruth Pitter

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George Orwell at Southwold

The Artist – Charlie Uzzel-Edwards

Who? Yes, until five minutes ago I would have said the same. I was searching “autodidact” on Google when I came upon a list of famous autodidacts. This included William Blake, John  Clare and George Orwell. George Orwell, didn’t he go to Public School? (Note to overseas readers – a Public School is one that the public is most definitely excluded from by means of high fees and snobbery. A Minor Public School is much the same, but they are looked down on by the Public Schools, despite still being exclusive. There’s a layer of private schooling below that, and then you come down to the schools that most of the public go to. Confused? Me too.)

Anyway, back to George Orwell. He went to Eton. Current Fees at Eton are £21,099.60 including VAT. That is for a “Half”. There are three halves in a year at Eton. I’m suspecting that they don’t teach a lot of maths in Public Schools. Then there are music lessons and “extras”, registration fees and uniforms. It soon mounts up. However, they do say that bursaries are available and no parent should feel that the cannot send their kid to Eton on account of the cost. This may be true, but I can’t help feeling that class and snobbery may make life difficult if you come from a working class home. Twenty Prime Ministers have gone to Eton, about a third. It’s not a place for the poor, the modest or the lower class.

So there you go – George Orwell, the man who is reputed to have educated himself, went to a school where it would currently cost you the thick end of £70,000 to send one of your children. Now, I know I can come across as having a bit of a chip on my shoulder regarding private education, but if I was paying £70,000 a year I’d not expect my kids to have to educate themselves.

But back to Ruth Pitter. She helped Orwell in his writing by advising him to give up writing poetry. I’ve only seen one of his poems. Believe me, she did us all a favour. She also helped C S Lewis. I am, as you know, a fan of the Narnia books. Having dipped into his other work I prefer to think of Lewis as the author of the Narnia books. Well, the first six, I find The Last Battle eternally dispiriting and tend to avoid it when rereading the series.

She was also the first woman to win the Queen’s Gold Medal for Poetry and a very interesting person. It’s amazing that after 66 years I am still finding such gaps in my knowledge. I could write more but it would only be regurgitating what is behind the link, so I will leave you to study privately.

Beach Huts – Southwold

Picking out the Nuggets

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Down to the museum tonight and three short talks on aspects of WW1 history. There is always something new to be extracted from talks, and in this case I came away knowing that the Germans only built 20 tanks in the war but captured over 100 of ours and used them against us. Strange, when you think how keen they were on them in the next war. We seem to have scrapped most of them after the war. The Imperial War Museum had one but scrapped it in 1922 and the Americans had one but scrapped it in 1942. That leaves just one survivor, which is in Australia. With hindsight it seems a strange way to treat  an historic vehicle, but I know we also scrapped several of our own in WW2 as we needed the steel.

Julia’s grandfather was a tank crewman in the Great War and survived without a scratch, only to be badly injured in the Coventry Blitz as an ARP Warden, as I’m sure I have mentioned before.

The one that should have been the most interesting talk turned out to be tinged with modern politics. Now, I don’t mind parallels being drawn, but sneering at  the people of 1914 for interning enemy aliens seems a bit rough. It’s easy to be wise in hindsight. Anyway, he clearly hadn’t done all the background research that I have when researching medallions and enamel badges – no mention of nationality legislation, or the Anti-German League, amongst other things. There are great gaps in my knowledge, as I am always aware when listening to specialists,  but it just shows how much you can learn as you potter about picking up snippets of information here and there.

To make it even better I had another acceptance today, which rounded things off nicely.

Robin. I went for a couple of old favorites tonight.

Coins, Designs and Devil Worship

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Irish 50p – the harp taht was first used in 1928

We had a good meeting a the Numismatic Society of Nottinghamshire last night – Dr Kevin Clancy from the Royal Mint as the speaker. It was an entertaining look at coin designing and one of the few times I have got to the end of the talk and wished there had been more. Julia came with me and even she enjoyed it. I did have a wry smile at one point when he described a committee that included a prince, a couple of museum directors and a peer as being “from all walks of life”.  Not quite my idea of what the phrase means, but there you go . . .

Strangely, for a talk on UK coins design, it started off with the Percy Metcalfe designs for the Irish Free State coinage of 1927. They are an iconic set, with a cohesive feel and excellent modelling of the animals. There was controversy about the set, particularly as Metcalfe was English, but the design also came in for criticism. The best quote is the one from the priest.

“If these pagan symbols once get a hold, then is the thin edge of the wedge of Freemasonry sunk into the very life of our Catholicity, for the sole object of having these pagan symbols instead of religious emblems on our coins is to wipe out all traces of religion from our minds, to forget the ‘land of saints,’ and beget a land of devil-worshippers, where evil may reign supreme“

If there’s one thing you can criticise the Irish for, it certainly isn’t a lack of religion.

Sad to say, although I realise our coinage developed over time and I am very fond of some of our coins, the Irish set is far better than anything we have ever done. Even our new set suffers from things like the presence of a dormouse (most people don’t know what one is) and the Puffin with the ungainly wings. However, it’s the salmon that is the worst – nearly 100 years have passed, we have new technology and techniques, and we still haven’t bettered Metcalfe’s salmon of 1928.

Fascinating stuff. Well it is for some of us.

Irish 50p – Woodcock – originally on Metcalfe’s farthing. It looked better whe it was smaller . . .

Rats, Clutter and Politicians

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Jackdaw

It’s been a strange week for wildlife this week. Long-tailed tits have appeared nearly every day and we had a Jackdaw at the start of the week too. They are very occasional visitors to the garden, even though we frequently  see them overhead.  We have also had a Brimstone flutter across the garden twice this week (it may be the same one twice, of course) and today a Peacock woke up from some cranny in the conservatory and began to flutter round. Julia ushered it out and I hope it found some early nectar. There’s going to be a steady decline in temperatures over the next week so I hope it doesn’t regret its decision to wake up. Julia bought some wallflowers in pots from a roadside stall while she was out today, so at least we have some nectar to offer.

Then we had a visit from my least favourite garden visitor – the brown rat came back. We  will try more peppermint and see what happens. It’s weeks since we last saw it, so we aren’t doing too badly.

The rat came back but the rabbit did not return

I’m now looking for suitable trees for the conservatory – once I get a couple of small citrus in there I will definitely begin to call it the Orangery. At the moment it doesn’t even rate the title of Conservatory, as it is really just a glass lean-to where we are storing junk. Yes, It’s building up, despite our good intentions, but we are just about keeping up.

Though I have bought a few books they are all on Kindle, so they aren’t clutter and two of them were actually free. I had to pay 99p each for the other two, but I don’t mind that. It’s when you see Kindle books advertised for the same sort of price as a physical book that I have reservations. Kindle books are all very well but after the nuclear winter settles in the wake of the Third World War books will still be good for making fires and using as makeshift bedsheets. A Kindle will only be useful as long as the charge lasts. After that, it is just a very poor substitute for a plate. I’m just wondering whether to name the new axis of evil Trutin or Puump. Any thoughts?

I dream of attracting four birds at a time

Another day, Another Rejection

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I’ve had better starts to the morning. Depending on which system I decide to employ I have either started with a rejection (making it 2 all for the month) or have had two reelections, making it 3-2. It’s one rejection note from one editor regarding submissions of two forms of work. It’s also from a magazine that has never accepted anything from me despite a number of attempts. If I call it one submission/rejection it makes the figures look better. If I call it two, it makes it easier to reach the figure of 100 submissions. Tricky.

This one didn’t free much up, because the two submissions only contained half a dozen pieces. However, the previous one released fifteen pieces. Now that I have let them sit a few days I will look through them, make any changes I spot and send them straight off again. I need to submit 15 haiku for the 15th of the month and another 25 by the end. This gives me the material for 15th and the newly written ones will do for the later requirements.

I am getting back into0 the flow of it. As I may have said, this months submissions include two magazines that have never accepted anything from me and one I have never submitted to before, so the rejections aren’t a surprise. Nor are they accompanied by condescending advice, which, as you know, always annoys me.

As part of the process of getting back into submitting more, I read the comments by a writer who had judged a competition for a magazine I was thinking of submitting to. They had a list of things which, in their opinion, automatically put people out of the running. Looking through the magazine later, I saw several published poems which included these supposedly fatal flaws. Can you work it out? I can’t. That’s another reason why I don’t spend a lot of time worrying about it. Nobody can really define what makes a good haiku so what’s the point of overthinking it? The only thing that annoys me about it, is the people who declare certain things to be fact, when they are clearly opinion.

Anyway, Julia has just returned from her morning run and it is time for me to make breakfast, so I will leave now and feed her. She already has my day planned (it seems to feature a lot of “tidying” so I want to keep her as happy as possible. Happy wife, happy life, as they say.

Oh dear, just published without adding photos.

Big News!

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Tch!, as they say, I forgot to enter a title for the last post.

I also noted that in the ten minutes between starting the edit and posting the results, I have had a rejection. It’s a very nice rejection but in my world there is no place where a nice rejection feels better than even the worst acceptance. In fact I’m not sure there is such a thing as a bad acceptance.

I have tried that editor four times and four times I have been rejected, so it was not as if it was a surprise. It’s all part of the rich tapestry of life. I looked that up, in case it was a quote from a poem. It isn’t. It seems to have been first used in a 1930s comedy record where Arthur Marshall, best known to me for being on Call My Bluff, used the phrase in the final moments of a mildly amusing record impersonating a Gym Mistress. Oundle  School, Cambridge, comic records as a gym mistress – makes you wonder about the benefits of education doesn’t it?

It’s probably time to announce the big news of the year – I am going to be a grandfather. I’ve known for a while now, but I’m old-fashioned and don’t like announcing these things too soon. I won’t be much of a grandfather as I don’t intend travelling to Canada, I’ll just be a shadowy figure on the family tree  and a vague memory from telephone calls. I may have to write a short memoir for him to read when he’s old enough.

We have had Long-tailed tits in the garden every day this week so far, which is quite good, and have a small patch of violets growing on the back lawn. That means that I have a few weeks until I have to cut the grass (it’s been looking like it needs a trim but this means I have an excuse for procrastination. Biodiversity is a wonderful thing.

Lomg-tailed tit on the feeder – actually a few weeks ago but it will illustrate this post too.

 

Bridges, Birds and Big Boys Toys

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Two views featuring the same bridge

Last night I started typing, got as far as the corned beef sandwiches and was woken by Julia at 3.30 am. She had woken in the night and noticed that the bed wasn’t as warm or as noisy as usual, and come to look for me. I was asleep in my magnificent office chair. I knew it was a good ideato buy a good one.

I don’t remember feeling tired, I just fell asleep mid-blog. I will continue now, using the lines I had already written.

In the 24 hours prior to the events I have just described, I had written 33 haiku and 9 tanka. It doesn’t sound much but it felt like my head was being crushed. I’d also dealt with several emails, written 1,000 words on Prime Ministers who were shot and done the normal sort of cooking and washing up.

Heron waiting to have a poem written about it

Many of the poems will be deleted, or heavily edited, but the purpose of the quantity is practice and defeating the inner critic. Once you have the material you can carve it into shape, but if you keep telling yourself it is not good enough you never have anything to work with..

The corned beef hash from Sunday became thick vegetable soup for Monday night, and thin soup for Tuesday lunch. The thick soup was accompanied by bread from the bread maker, and the two soups were accompanied by corned beef sandwiches using the rest of the bread and  carefully stretching  the corned beef by keeping it chilled in the fridge and cutting it thinly.

Between falling asleep and being woken by Julia I found I had had an acceptance from overseas. That’s two from last month’s submissions, and it was a good way to start the day. I use the term loosely as, when you use email and have an international reach, every day is a new one somewhere and where it starts and ends is just a constant process of change.

As an example of editorial opinion, the piece I had accepted last night had been rejected just weeks before by another editor. It was, I thought, the weakest of the three I sent out this time, which just goes to show that you never can tell (to quote Chuck Berry).

Flying Scotsman

Swinging Feeders

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There seems to be a problem loading the photos in this post, which may make the first line slightly puzzling. If I refresh, it comes right and makes sense. 🙂

I swear there was  a Great Tit perching when I pushed the button

First – an acceptance. It’s a good start to the day (it was waiting when I switched on my emails) and it’s a good start to last month’s submissions. The normal caveats apply – past performance is not a guide to future success, one day the illusion of my talent will fall apart, and, mostly, I have submitted to a magazine I have never submitted to before and three editors that have  always rejected my work, so there could be tricky times ahead. However, for now, I have a smile on my face.

See – there was one

Julia got up early and went for a run. She is finding retirement hard as she hasn’t enough to do and she has nearly worn the new floors out with sweeping, hoovering, mopping and polishing. I feel sorry for them. While she was out, I took pictures of several birds, but mainly just the recently vacated feeders. When the Blackcap came it fed from the opposite side of the feeder so I couldn’t get a decent shot and, later, when the Long-tailed tits arrived, I had already taken the camera away.

Breakfast was ready for her when she got back. It was only cereal and toast but it’s always nice to have something ready to put on the table on her return. At our age these things are just as important as chocolates and flowers. In fact, a healthy breakfast is better than chocolates.

That was a blue tit a split second previously . . .

On that subject, I note that our breakfast blueberries came from Morocco. Last week they were from Peru. It’s good to have healthy food and a good variety, but it does make me worry about my carbon footprint and whether my breakfast is contributing to the end of mankind. It could, I suppose, be worse. At least no pigs are harmed in this sort of breakfast.

I’m currently in the middle of writing submissions which need to be done by the 15th, but with twelve days to go, the sense of urgency has not yet cut in, and I am finding it hard going.

And that used to have a blackcap on it

It’s a bit like homeopathy, my photography, pared down and diluted so that only the suggestion of a possibility of a bird remains.  Or “inept” might be the word I’m looking for.