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Thursday 30 December 2021

MAKER OF FOOTPRINTS BY SHEILA TURNER JOHNSTON
















maker of footprints

 

by

 

Sheila Turner Johnston

 

Colourpoint 2019

 

https://blackstaffpress.com/maker-of-footprints-9781780732435


Meeting him was easy. It was knowing him that burned bone.  Paul Shepherd is dangerous.  He crashes into Jenna's life like an asteroid into an ocean.  Wilful and exhausting, he stirs feelings that make her confront all that has kept her safe - and bored.  Relentless and determined, he needs Jenna with a desperation she does not understand.  Jenna discovers that, although she can try to hide from Paul, there is nowhere to hide from herself.  But, he is married.


What do you do when you discover you are not the person you thought you were?

 

 

This is a love story, but not one that runs smoothly for all concerned.  Jenna is a plain girl, a good girl and a bit boring with it.  Her boyfriend, Adam, does not have the inclination to develop their relationship in a romantic way anytime soon. 

 

Jenna’s brother Luke is a typical student, turning up frequently at Jenna’s to crash out and ponder his plan to quit Belfast for Scotland, or even Outer Mongolia.

 

Paul, Adam’s older brother, is all ego, blunt, opinionated and insufferable more often than not.  He has returned to Belfast from London with his wife of a few months, Dianne, a snobby socialite who hates the city and is determined to return to England at the earliest opportunity.  Paul has no intentions of returning to London permanently.  Dianne has to find a way to get through to Paul.  She loves her husband but not his stubbornness.  

 

Paul and Dianne meet Jenna.  Dianne is not impressed but Paul spots something in Jenna, a challenge perhaps, a project of sorts, the main plot strand of this intriguing book.  There is a kind of slow dance between the two and their relationship develops romantically.  Initially, Jenna is cautious but Paul is determined that they will be together.  His marriage to Dianne is doomed to fail.

 

The push and pull of relationships, old, current and new, give the book depth and draws the reader into caring about what happens to everyone involved, even the ones hard to like. 

 

But just when you are comfortable in the story’s groove, the book shifts gear as events turn darker and more dramatic.  Amongst other things, Paul’s superego front is not all it’s cracked up to be.

 

Sheila Turner Johnston conducts her orchestra of characters beautifully.  This is a wonderful novel, truly a page-turner residing in the upper echelons of the very best modern fiction.

 

  

Friday 17 December 2021

BACK AND FORWARD - 2021/2022

Looking back,

there were decisions I should not have made,
there were decisions I should have made,
things I should not have said,
things I should have said,
people I should have forgotten,
people I should have remembered,
situations I should have avoided,
situations I should have arranged,
jobs I should have abandoned,
jobs I should have done.

*

Looking forward,

there will be decisions I will not make,
there will be decisions I will make,
things I will not say,
things I will say,
people I will forget,
people I will remember,
situations I will avoid,
situations I will arrange,
jobs I will abandon,
jobs I will do.

*

American professional baseball pitcher, Satchell Paige's famous quote always comes to mind at this time of the year:

"Don't look back. Something might be gaining on you."

And to that, I add:

"Amen, and onward."




Tuesday 14 December 2021

SOME CHRISTMAS POEMS

 

Season's Greetings, friends.




From hundreds of fun Christmas poems I have written over the years.


‘APPY CHRISTMAS

To gadget geeks – Appy Christmas
To bakers – Bappy Christmas
To dentists – Cappy Christmas
To good blokes – Chappy Christmas
To audiences – Clappy Christmas
To birds – Flappy Christmas
To Tube guards – Gappy Christmas
To motor racers – Lappy Christmas
To explorers – Mappy Christmas
To babies – Nappy Christmas
To urban singers – Rappy Christmas
To boxers – Scrappy Christmas
To make-up artists – Slappy Christmas
To crocodiles – Snappy Christmas
To plumbers – Tappy Christmas
To puppies – Yappy Christmas
To video game players – Zappy Christmas

WENCESLAS WEATHER

Good King Wenceslas looked out
And did a double take,
Despite all his initial doubt,
He rubbed his eyes awake.
Brightly shone the sun that day,
Sweltering hot and sticky,
He thought as this is Boxing Day,
The forecast’s a bit dicky.

“Bring me shorts Bermuda-style,
Bring me sun tan lotion,
Bring me cola by the crate
And ice cubes by the ocean.
Bring my sunbed by the pool,
I can’t believe this weather,
I can swim around all day
In the altogether.”

Good King Wenceslas’s dream
Ended with a bump,
He fell out of his bed it seems
And bruised his ample rump,
Groggy from his accident
And dazed and half-asleep,
He gaped out through the curtain gap
To see snow six-feet deep.

SANTA IN THE GARDEN

Santa likes to dig-dig-dig,
Santa likes to grow-grow-grow,
Santa likes to rake-rake-rake,
But most of all,
Santa likes to hoe-hoe-hoe

STRICTLY CHRISTMAS

Strictly come 
Dasher, 
Strictly come 
Vixen,
Strictly come 
Donner,
Strictly come 
Blitzen,
Strictly come 
Cupid,
Strictly come 
Prancer,
Strictly come 
Comet,
Strictly come 
Dancer.

CHRISTMAS SHOPPING

Christmas shopping,
Christmas shopping,
Really makes me dizzy.
Why can’t Christmas
Be in June
When the shops aren’t quite so busy? 

MOOEY

Two cows talking
In the language called Moo –
“Mooey Christmas”
“And mooey Christmas to you.”


Season's greeting friends!


Friday 10 December 2021

RIP MIKE NESMITH - A POEM, BOBBLE HAT

 In the mid-60s, my mother knitted me an almost exact replica of this hat.





Bobble Hat

Mother’s skillset expanded out of necessity,
Back in the tight money days, post-Elvis, pre-Beatles.
Alongside kitchen and other housewifery talents,
She knitted in what seemed like every spare moment,
Aran jumpers a speciality, but also
Scarves, gloves and non-military balaclavas, hats,
Especially one unforgettable hat for me,
A bobble hat, green, an almost exact replica
Of a Mike Nesmith Monkees hat, cool woolly number. 
Should have seen my face! I was a believer. Still am.

Wednesday 8 December 2021

THE LITTLE DRUMMER BOY (REVISITED)











The little drummer boy
Who featured in a song
From 1958
Has had to move along.

He was handy with the drum,
Even handier with the sticks,
But all that drumming took its toll,
So he retired at sixty-six.

 

Wednesday 1 December 2021

BOOK REVIEW - MOVING ABOUT THE PLACY BY EVELYN CONLON

 
















MOVING ABOUT THE PLACE

 

SHORT STORIES

 

By

 

Evelyn Conlon

 

The Blackstaff Press 2021

 

https://blackstaffpress.com/moving-about-the-place-9781780733104

 

 

This fine collection of short stories and a novella takes us on journeys geographically and emotionally.  The geography takes in Ireland, England, Australia, Italy, Monaco, Indonesia, Japan – adding useful background ingredients to the core stories in settings and scenery.  It all helps the reader to frame pictures and create imagery as the characters do what they do.  The emotion is in the spoken and unspoken words of people some of whom want to break free from life’s constraints, who dream of better lives elsewhere only to find that the grass is not necessarily as green as they imagined.


In one story, Hannah and her husband Simon emigrate to Australia only for Hannah to realise she is trapped in a foreign land with no immediate family and scarcely any local friends.  Her new life is one of challenges and struggles.


Violet, incarcerated in an asylum, smuggles out a letter in a bottle which washes up on a shore.  She had shot and wounded Mussolini and therefore was not considered of sound mind.  She tells the finder who she is, what she’s done and why. It is a moving outpouring.

Other stories involve unhappy relationships, new beginnings, one in particular featuring recently widowed Mary who leaves Ireland for Australia and evolves into a social activist, campaigning to improve women’s lives, and another explores turmoil after a visit to the Hiroshima Peace Museum.


So, geography, emotion as well as humanity’s foibles layer these excellent stories, and Evelyn Conlon is to be saluted for taking us on these journeys.  Some of them linger long after closing the book.  And that’s a skill not enjoyed by all writers.  Bravo.

 

Tuesday 30 November 2021

ONLY YULES & VERSES - CHRISTMAS FUN

I wrote a book of Christmas-related funny stuff and a kind person posted these unsolicited comments.            


“Only Yules and Verses is one of those special little books that you happen upon serendipitously. I have read authors' blurbs before extolling the mirth to be found in THEIR book only to buy the book and be severely disappointed. What an unexpected joy, therefore, to pick up this little gem and read it to the end with smiles, a few laughs out loud and some headshakes at the ingenuity of Joe Cushnan. I thoroughly enjoyed this and wholeheartedly recommend it to everyone.

 

P.S. I am not a friend or family member of the author, but how I wish I were!”


You can buy this stocking-filler here.


https://www.feedaread.com/books/Only-Yules-Verses-9781784070823.aspx








Sunday 14 November 2021

Tuesday 9 November 2021

BLACK FRIDAY RETAIL BULLSHIT

This so-called Black Friday retail bullshit is due. Supposed to be a day, bit lasts much longer. 

So glad I am out of retail after 40 years. Do your worst, businesses and customer saps. 

Black Friday, get in a queue and wait,
dressed from head to toe in combat gear,
prepared, who dares wins, shopping with no fear,
eyes on bargains, gathered hordes salivate,

wearing elbow pads, knee pads, shin pads, hobnail boots,
the atmosphere rising to fever pitch,
the mild-mannered become bastard and bitch,
battering and bruising, not giving two hoots.

The luckiest ones hold their prizes high,
triumphant in their quest to win the day,
victorious survivors of the fray,
while unlucky ones hang their heads and cry.

And after all the sales are rung and checked,
both store displays and shop staff nerves are wrecked.



Wednesday 3 November 2021

BOOK REVIEW - THE BLACK DREAMS: STRANGE STORIES FROM NORTHERN IRELAND


The Black Dreams:
Strange Stories from Northern Ireland
Edited by Reggie Chamberlain-King

Blackstaff Press
2021

https://blackstaffpress.com/the-black-dreams-9781780733289


Stories by:


Jo Baker, Jan Carson, Reggie Chamberlain-King, Aislinn Clarke, Emma Devlin, Moira Donaldson, Michelle Gallen, Carlo Gebler, John Patrick Higgins, Ian McDonald, Bernie McGill, Gerard McKeown, Ian Sansom, Sam Thompson.


This is the strangest, mind-boggling, challenging collection of stories (all in a good way!) I have read, so good in fact that I felt compelled to read them in one sitting.  In fact, it is obvious when you think about it that the backdrop link to all of the stories is strange, mind-boggling, challenging Northern Ireland. As a Belfast kid, I get this.


Although they reside under the Black Dreams umbrella, each storyteller has taken the central theme of strangeness and let creativity and imagination rip.  Characters look within, rummaging through emotions and memories, look out and sense things only they can sense, explore the past, consider what will be, sometimes dreaming impossible dreams and coming to profound conclusions about the value of their lives and the lives of others, the history of their surroundings and the shifting power of the landscape.


It is difficult to pick a favourite and I won't.  Readers will have to decide for themselves. Of the fourteen stories, there was only one I didn't care for, and I won't reveal that one either.


The Black Dreams is an excellent collection of stories by gifted writers unafraid to loosen the reins and take us on a gallop down twisty, turny roads.  It is quite a ride!


Indeed, creativity and imagination unleashed.




 

Tuesday 2 November 2021

HAS ANYBODY HERE SEEN KELLY? A MEMOIR COMING SOON.

 


In 1960, my father, John Cushnan, left our Belfast home, his wife and seven young children, and vanished. The next we heard of him was when we were told he had died at 57 in Clapham, London in 1982. By this time he had reinvented himself as John Kelly from Derry. Apart from anything else, he left us with a mystery of 22 missing years. 

This book is the result of much research done by me to find out about his life post-Belfast. I found out a lot. It is also the story of my heroic mother, Rita, who raised her seven kids as a single parent.

Edited by Averill Buchanan

More soon.

Media contact: joecushnan@aol.com


Wednesday 27 October 2021

EMERALD BLUE

 

I am dazzled by the knife blade in the sunlight,
my skin cuts easily but the pain is less than I imagined
and as my blood escapes I notice it is less red,
more emerald blue.

I see the history in it, the life and death - it is blood after all -
and as a delta appears on my hand, I resist the urge to lick
or press the wound, waiting for other colours in vain, continuing to
bleed emerald blue.

I hear songs and poetry, see old faces, hear breathing, sense spirits,
noises from a long-distance life, siren wails from wars on streets,
witness splashes of full-colour blood, sepia blood, black blood,
seldom emerald blue.

For this liquid is mine, my protective albumen, my defence, my roots,
an unstoppable slow-flow to mesmerise, to kindle feelings, to remind,
to stimulate a fondness for beginnings, to underline weaknesses, to ease 
feeling emerald blue.

Monday 25 October 2021

WHERE HAVE ALL THE DECENT, HONEST, TRUTHFUL POLITICIANS GONE?

 I think of the future for my very young grandsons.

Where is today's inspirational leadership?

Name me one politician who eschews personal gain or publicity over giving a shit about the future.

Go on.

You can't.

Because there isn't one. 



Sunday 24 October 2021

ROSA PARKS 4 FEBRUARY, 1913 - 24 OCTOBER 2005














Rosa Parks summed up a significant moment 
in history with these humble words:
“I didn’t get on the bus to get arrested. 
I got on the bus to get home.” 

Montgomery, Alabama, 1955.

The shockwaves of a woman, 
a black woman, 
sitting in that seat
rattled the pedestals 
of the self-appointed white righteous. 

Arrested for “refusing to obey order of bus driver”,
nationality defined as “negro”, 
complexion “black”, 
build “medium”, mug shot “7053”,
this bespectacled 42-year-old, 
five-foot three citizen became an icon of resistance, 
a living symbol
underlining the right in civil rights, 
later awarded medals and remembered on Rosa Parks Day.  

"I got on the bus to get home."

Saturday 23 October 2021

SOME NON-FICTION SUBJECTS IN MY PUBLISHED WRITING PORTFOLIO



As a non-fiction generalist, I write about a wide range of subjects, although I am drawn to cinema-related topics.  Here are some examples over the past ten years or so.

On actor Stephen Boyd

On family matters

On Northern Irish humour columnists

On singer/songwriter David McWilliams

On the golden age of television

On actor James Ellis's short stories

On the closure of British Home Stores (BHS)

On my education

On the Royal Ulster Constabulary (RUC)

On an old Belfast tourism guide book

On Hollywood's biblical epic movies

On the 1959 film, Ben-Hur

On a 2019 trip to Japan

On autograph collecting

On famous people born on Christmas Day

On Coco the Clown

On actor/comedian Birdy Sweeney

On broadcaster/writer Alan Whicker

On early Hollywood star Thelma Todd

On actor Eddie Byrne

On actor Burt Lancaster

On homelessness and begging in Belfast

and more.

Researching and writing are probably the best fun of all.

Any features editors out there who would like to commission a piece, please contact me at joecushnan@aol.com I will consider any subject. Word count and fee both welcome.



Wednesday 20 October 2021

FATHER TRIVIA

My father, for a short while, was a tailor,

not a job that suited him, if you'll pardon me,
but some nights he'd bring home triangular chalk,
the sort that marked cloth, the sort that was a toy to me.

It was velvety to the touch, not like stick chalk,

but great fun on a black or purple writing pad.
I remember little of importance about him
but I recall odds and ends, the trivia of my Dad.

 

 

Saturday 2 October 2021

GULP - A LOVE POEM

💔


My boyfriend swallowed an abacus,
It’s too long to go into why,
He seems a little weird to outsiders
But, though a little bit strange, he gets by.

I love him, I love him, I love him,
I love him in huge amounts,
Whatever this abacus has done to him,
It’s what’s inside that counts.

Friday 1 October 2021

MOUNTAIN MIST

It is too easy to allow mountain mist to give permission

At times of grief, in grief, because of grief, to influence

And encourage thoughts of God’s winter breath, of angels

Forming a shroud of gauze, of spirits on pilgrimage, of wisdom

And poetic nonsense, when it is simply mountain mist.

But, you know,

Mountain mist is not the only mist.

Thursday 30 September 2021

DAVID MCWILLIAMS - MUCH MORE THAT PEARLY SPENCER

I wrote this a while ago. This man deserves to be remembered. Would have been 76 right now. Died at 56.


Popular music history is strewn with what are sometimes described as “one-hit wonders”, artists that are forever associated with a particular song, even though they have recorded and/or written many others and have built decent back catalogues.  Off the top of my head, I can think of The Streets of London by Ralph McTell, Spirit in the Sky by Norman Greenbaum and San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair) by Scott McKenzie. Someone once said of recording artists that all they needed was one memorable record and they would live forever. There is a lot of truth in that.

Fifty years on from its release on 6 October, 1967, we can say this and much more about The Days of Pearly Spencer by David McWilliams. It is a classic track that still sounds as fresh and original today, half a century on. Those of us who love his music would not label him as a one-hit wonder because we know his immense talent as a creative artist and performer stretches way beyond such a limited definition. 

In 1967, I was 13 and keen on acoustic guitars, singer-songwriters and buying records with my meagre pocket money. On Saturday mornings I would get the bus into Belfast and head for Premier records in Smithfield (the original old, musty buildings) and then over to Harrison's music shop in Castle Street. I cannot remember in which shop I bought my first David McWilliams LP, but I took it home, unsleeved it lovingly and very carefully, as you did in those days, and played it to death.

On most Sunday afternoons, my friend Sean Allison would come to our house and we would lock ourselves in a bedroom and play a wide range of stuff on turntable and also have a crack at singing our own versions of a long list of favourites. Sean was far more adept at guitar playing than me. I was the lead singer. Together, we were not a bad duo, no threat to the Everly Brothers, of course, but we could belt out a fair number of Kris Kristofferson, Gordon Lightfoot and Kingston Trio songs. Sadly, I don’t think we mastered Pearly Spencer but we couldn’t help but love it, especially as it featured one of our Northern Irish own.

I heard The Days of Pearly Spencer track for the first time on Radio Caroline through an annoying, crackling radio set. In spite of the wireless reception, the drums, the violins, the megaphone-enhanced chorus, the lyrics and the singing blew me away. It was then - and is now – an outstanding record. 

The origin of the idea for the lyrics is a little vague with some suggestions that David McWilliams had observed perhaps a man or maybe a woman down on their luck in his native Ballymena. “A tenement, a dirty street, walked and worn by shoeless feet……” and “Pearly where’s your milk-white skin, what’s that stubble on your chin, it’s buried in the rot-gut gin……” – social observations and, ahead of his time, nothing in the song is gender specific. 
More recently, it was suggested that it was inspired not by one but by two women. Mystery and myth in music!

David McWilliams was a true original, a man who loved music but not the music business, and it is sad to reflect that far too many people, including some in his home country, have no idea who he was and what he achieved. He had more than a good sniff at international fame with around a dozen albums of interesting and diverse songs including his aforementioned trademark, Pearly Spencer. It was said more than once that the English had Donovan, the Americans had Dylan and Northern Ireland had McWilliams, and while this may have exaggerated his standing somewhat, no one can deny that he demonstrated frequently the creative ability to sit comfortably in that kind of company. His main career problem seemed to be his on-off relationship with show business, the chore of touring and the thought of committing unreservedly to a full-time job in music.

He was born in the Cregagh area of Belfast, in 1945. Aged five, he attended Cregagh Primary School in its opening year. The family moved to Ballymena about eight years later, and David grew up with a passion for playing football and had a keen interest in poetry and music. The requirement to earn a living meant that he needed a proper job - a fitter at Shorts missile factory - rather than living in hope that he could make ends meet as a troubadour. His writing and performing continued as a hobby but he had a belief in his own creative ability, so much so that he made a demo tape that eventually reached a man who would give him his big break. 

Phil Solomon was influential at Radio Caroline, the controversial pirate ship station that captured an enthusiastic young 1960s audience. Caroline was anarchic and played hits alongside new music, an antidote to BBC radio’s stuffiness at the time. Solomon liked the demo and offered a contract. David McWilliams signed up with the Major Minor label. There was talk of a tense relationship but, if there was or whatever it was, this new Northern Irish singer-songwriter soon gained admiration and decent record sales across Europe from considerable airplay. The Days of Pearly Spencer was a hit in France (number one), Belgium, Holland (number one) and Germany. He did not score personal chart success with it in the UK. The honour belonged to Marc Almond's cover version that reached number four in 1992. But that is not to say that David McWilliams’s recording is not revered and respected by a couple of generations of music lovers on these islands. It has stood the test of time.

The song attracted the attention of other performers, apart from Almond who pretty much stuck to the original arrangement, and why not? In 1968, New Zealand band, The Avengers, recorded it. In 1969, US band The Grass Roots included the track on their Lovin’ Things album, and a great version it is too. In 1988, a French psychedelic outfit, The Vietnam Veterans, had added their own backing mixture to good effect. In 2008, French crooner Rodolphe Burger did a splendid version in a smoky cabaret production not unlike, say, Leonard Cohen. Caterina Caselli, in 1968, recorded a version in Italian. There are other vocal and instrumental examples from around the world. The original was copied by talented people but, in my view, never bettered, (but I will come back to that later!). The important point is though, original or covers, the power of the song stands up very well.

In the recording studio the producer was Mike Leander, who tended to lean towards over-orchestration at times, complicating some of the simpler songs. But all three early albums made the UK top 40, respectable showings for an emerging artist. In 1967 his highest chart position, number 23, was for David McWilliams Volume 2, the album that featured Pearly Spencer and the beautiful Can I Get There By Candlelight? A year later David McWilliams Volume 3 produced the wonderful Three O'Clock Flamingo Street. His album covers show he was a man of his time with sideburns, intense poses, floral shirts and an acoustic guitar never far away.




A few years later he released Lord Offaly with a title track that sits well alongside many a folk song and is a perfect example of his relaxed but very effective vocals. For me, above and beyond much of this output, his haunting composition The Stranger stands out as an accomplished story song with a twist at the end. It is the kind of song that lingers in the memory because not only has a tale been told, but a picture has been painted as well. It is an excellent example of the McWilliams observational style of lyric writing and warm singing style.

However, he could never quite manage the necessary balancing act of enjoying the music while simultaneously tolerating the business side of things. After a number of years within touching distance of becoming a major artist internationally, he ducked out of the game through disillusionment and boredom, preferring a simpler, more grounded life. But, as with many creative people, the urge to write and the itch to perform never goes away and, occasionally, he rediscovered his enthusiasm to get back into the studio. As ever, he produced some fine work, but it failed to click with the music buying public. He even toyed with the idea of Nashville at one point but it was not to be.

It is not meant to be unkind, but it is a fact that David McWilliams was a nearly-man of pop music. In the end, through poor management, a sporadic international fan base and erratic interest from McWilliams himself in his own career, the fast-moving music business passed him by. He was ripped off like many artists over the years and never fared particularly well financially, a travesty when you consider his wealth of talent.

Listening to his albums, there is no doubt that he was a gifted songwriter and an effective singer. Not everything he wrote is appealing or significant but there is enough beautifully crafted music to question why he was not a bigger star, especially in the great singer-songwriter era of the 1970s.

But when all is said and done, there are many artists who would give their right arm for one defining piece of work and David McWilliams achieved that with The Days of Pearly Spencer. I would urge anyone with ambitions to be a singer-songwriter to seek out his albums and see just how good he was.

David McWilliams suffered a heart attack and died at 56 in 2002 but his records live on. And, more importantly, his daughter Mandy Bingham, along with her husband Graham, are carrying on the family’s singer/songwriter tradition. There is a rich seam of musical talent in Northern Ireland right now and Mandy is up there with the very best of them recording and performing some original and beautiful music. At the time of writing this piece, I have had the privilege of listening to Mandy’s new version of The Days of Pearly Spencer. It is stunning, an emotional tribute to her father’s work, and yet more evidence that she, Graham and their bandmates are a class act. It is quite a different arrangement to the original but no less remarkable. And you know what I said earlier about no one bettering the David McWilliams original, if I owned a hat, I would be eating it right now. The two records complement each other superbly. The Days of Pearly Spencer at 50. Amazing, and still very, very special.

*** I am grateful that Mandy Bingham read the article before I posted it to ensure I was being accurate, and to Gil McWilliams for advising me of a couple of corrections, which have now been made.