Author Archives: Dick Jones

About Dick Jones

I'm a post-retirement Drama teacher, currently working part-time. I have a grown-up son and daughter, three grandchildren and three young children from my second marriage. I write - principally poetry but prose too, both fitfully published. My poetry collection Ancient Lights is published by Phoenicia Publishing ( and my translation of Blaise Cendrars' 'Trans-Siberian Prosody and Little Jeanne from France' (illustrated by my friend, the artist, writer and long-time blogger Natalie d'Arbeloff) is published by Old Stile Press ( I play bass guitar & bouzouki in the song-based acoustic/electric trio Moorby Jones, playing entirely original material ( + I play the same instruments in the Celtic/English/Americana/acoustic ambient trio Escher's Dream. ( I have a dormant blog with posts going back to 2004 at Dick Jones' Patteran Pages - - and I'm a radio ham. My callsign is G0EUV


Heart Sutra 1. IF I PRAYED (for R, R and M) Dream and fable, the dark that lies on your eyes, or the busy stars that celebrate the open window, this basket of love that binds you – may they … Continue reading

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DJ and Doug MacGowan, summer 2019. Guitarist, banjoist, singer and songwriter Doug and I have been musical compadres for many years and now with my partner Emma Semple on violin and viola we’re putting together a trio, as yet unnamed. … Continue reading

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“Education, education, education!” Tony Blair cried 22 years ago as we were promised root and branch change within primary and secondary schools. And there was a massive financial investment in education resulting in a significant increase in the number of … Continue reading

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Looking for U2…

In the summer of 2002 Emma and I took an isolated house in a small inlet along Bertraghboy Bay between Cashel and Roundstone in Connemara. There was electricity and running water, albeit of a peaty brown, but no mobile phone … Continue reading

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MR MOORE’S WALL-CLOCK Mr Moore lived on his own in a lean-to shack (two-roomed and shingle-boarded) at the back of the barn where Grandad kept his car. Clad with roofing felt and thick with tar that bubbled in the sun, … Continue reading

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With age comes impermanence. It’s always there, of course, but back then it’s a football team’s trajectory of success, the potted plant that you want to make it past autumn, your child’s delight in things that are not of this … Continue reading

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‘A RED SUN SETS IN THE WEST’ During the three consecutive summers of 1990, ’91 and ’92 in company with students and fellow teachers from Frensham Heights School, I visited Russia at a time of extraordinary change. Although our visits were relatively … Continue reading

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