A sad little station

on the Hampton Court line,

the place where the fast

slowed down for Surbiton.

It overlooked a sewage farm

we’d cycle past, a short cut.

Lower Marsh Lane

more or less summed it up.


Sad? Not for us.

John and I would trainspot there,

watching the Merchant Navys

and Battle of Britains

round the bend and thunder

towards us, while listenin...

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A Foreign Wood

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The empire called for more men, and they came.

Shipped from sub-continent

to western front,

Gallipoli, Mesopotamia, East Africa, 

largest volunteer army in the world.

They weren’t ready for the cold;

couldn’t understand new officers

when theirs were slain. 

Some wounded, shipped to England,

died and were buried

in a corner of a foreign wood

with Muslim honours...

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Murder mile

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Rome lays bare its bones,

a body dissected for sightseers:

in a corner of the square, the spot in 44 BC

where the Senate met and Caesar fell.

Pillars, ruined temples, marble lavs

uncovered, for the cats to colonise.

Let developers

gnash their teeth in vain.   


In the nearby shadows of a back street

small shrine to politician Aldo Moro,

found in the boot of a...

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The Oldies


Mature English Blonde lady

offers no rush massage.

Old postcards wanted

by private collector.

Continence care:

bed protection,

pads, briefs, accessories.


Wanted: Dinky toys, model trains.

Underwear by post.

Understanding attractive

Continental lady offers

memorable massage

to discerning gentlemen

in discreet Marylebone surroundings.



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