Jiggy was only ever known as Jiggy. Obviously I cannot vouch for the fact that he was never, in his youth, known as ‘Young Jiggy’ because that is well before my time. But in his old age he was never ‘Old Jiggy’, there was no other Jiggy. Now Jiggy played the fiddle. Admittedly the only … More On the fiddle
There are all sorts of trades, some better thought of than others. Take jewellers for example, highly skilled and respectable. Except of course for the ones who aren’t. It was Mythrin Calpon who made the less respectable part of the trade her own.She never really served her time as such, but she worked for old … More Well it’s a trade
Elsin Fairdragan is an essayist. Now I confess that I have been quoted as saying harsh things about essayists. Indeed the phrase ‘over-entitled self-proclaimed geniuses’ may well have been credited to me. Still, Elsin is most definitely not in that category. Whilst she is an essayist, she concentrates as much on her craft as a … More The Problems of a Rural Landlord.
There is a school of thought which pronounces, with some vehemence, that one ought to undergo continuous training throughout your career. I can see the advantages of this. I make a point of reading the works of great poets, so I can see how they have tackled problematic issues or handled various verse forms. I … More Teaching a cat to dance
Now it’s not for me to disillusion anybody. After all, enduring as a poet is very much a life of encouraging misapprehensions and spreading enchantment. So people rather assume that as a poet I live a most cerebral existence. A life of witty repartee, deep and meaningful insights, and wise words, graciously dispensed. To be … More Grave concerns
I’ve known Mistress Bete for many years. If I may take the liberty of calling her a sensible young woman without seeming to insult her, I shall avail myself of that privilege. She was born into a class which accepted that a daughter would have to work for a living, at least until she married … More And how Mistress Bete became a lady of property.
This is a story about pilgrimage and the quest for enlightenment. A moral tale, a story written for the spiritually discerning. Even as I write it I have to stop to wipe away a tear. There are all sorts of shrines and fanes where those who seek closer communion with the divine can repair and … More It has to be healthy, it’s got honey in it.
Now you might wonder why I lead this article with a painting of Maljie’s bedroom window. I suppose I could use the argument, “It had to be done.” I might even suggest that the artist who risked life and limb to get this picture deserves to have his work more widely publicised, even if the … More The Lady in the Silk Kimono
You know what it’s like. It’s getting late and you discover that there’s nothing in the house to eat. Alternatively you arrive home after a hard day at the office to discover that cook has taken the day off because her elderly mother is unwell and your lady wife is dining that evening with her … More To your very door!
I rarely despair of Port Naain. After all, who wants a gloomy poet? There is a school of thought which suggests we are merely a better class of buffoon. Between ourselves and in all candour, I’m not sure whether the terms ‘school’ and ‘thought’ should be used in connection with people which such a poor … More The orphans