Friday, August 25, 2006


A woman, calling herself Kentish Town, has appeared at the Torriano Meeting House. Robert thinks she is having a bit of a joke at his expense. Be that as it may, we went for a drink afterwards at the Assembley House and bought her a pint.
She thrust this poem at us which she says she is too embarrassed to read to the group. I personally think it's an amusing reply to Rob's poem, and Kentish has given her wry permission for it to go out as a posting on this blog.

Champagne is not my drink, it never were.
I see the point you're making about my letters -
Bubbly and white - but that's for smart go-getters.
Look, Mate, it's London Pride or Youngs that I prefer:
A well-pulled pint has white froth on the beer.
Simply explained, it's beer that breaks the fetters.
Do us a favour, let's leave the champers
Until our first book's published. Listen here:

This woman , or dame, drinking Thunderbird -
I think you undersell y'self there. Load a
Glass with a dram of whiskey, add some soda,
That's more like your style, Mate. On my word,
Thunderbird sounds like a hot-rod racer.
Scotch, Mate! I'm Kentish hops and your're the chaser.

Friday, August 18, 2006

A visitor to this blog has asked me to publish this photo and the following poem - it is my good friend Robert Trellisand - the wall man of Kentish Town. Robert and I met at the Torriano Meeting House and we have talked about pomes a bit. That's Rob's letters, his mortal coil, you see there up on the wall just beneath the brand new job by a local artist.

Face to Face

Super-graffiti’d on my wall, a name –
Not Hollywood, L.A. and not New York
Those bubbly letters seem to fizz and uncork
Champagne, a white froth promulgating fame,
While my letters have no such fancy claim,
No glass to catch them, ice to make them work.
Mine are the fine fume a New World dame
Exhales when she’s got Thunderbird to walk.

I share my being with this pride of place
My dreaming mansion suddenly a commune;
What twist of Kismet, quirky stroke of Fate
To pair me with this jaunty fellow, face
To face with: .Kentish Town! I’ll say, Fortune
To stand by him; am proud to call him mate.


Tuesday, August 15, 2006

We reared him in the
kitchen with the spice and herbs -
feed him on sunlight.