Newsflash

From the East Grinstead Echo

Notorious burglar Vince ‘The Cat’ Lifter was arrested on Monday morning when a security guard found him wedged in the ventilation shaft in Carpet World, where it turned out he had been all weekend. He had become stuck trying to break through into the Cash Converters next door after forgetting to make allowances for his backpack.

Vince had only recently been released from prison after serving two years for the theft of a pair of £1000 hand-made leather trousers belonging to a well-known politician. In his defence he claimed that he was going to sell them and redistribute the money to the local homeless. He was only caught because the politician who owned the trousers was wearing them at the time.

Born in East Grinstead as Richard Lifter, he changed his name by deed poll to Vince (after a beloved uncle) as he felt Dick Lifter created entirely the wrong impression for one embarking on a serious life of crime.

Vince claimed there is no truth in the rumour that he was caught on purpose as he had become rather fond of the prison chaplain.

An Ode To Socks The Cat

My pet cat Socks

is in a box

I don’t want him to be there

I want him back

upon my lap

to cover me in his hair

The little git

once did a shit

that really was quite rotten

It took a week

for it to clear

and I have not forgotten

Even so

he was my friend

the only one I’ve had

I want him back

in my small flat

because I feel quite sad

I miss him lots

My pet cat Socks

Prose Poem #1

I just found this in draft form on my flash drive, along with several other 'work in progress' pieces. Hard to believe that only a few months ago there was snow on the ground and we were all saying where is that sun. Anyways, enjoy. Or not. It's up to you.



Back from a long walk by the sea, making the most of the January sunshine, I make myself a sandwich. I can hear the lady next door talking but I can't make out the words just the sound of her voice. I wonder what she is saying and to whom.

From my window I can see a black cat asleep on the roof below, oblivious to the world and to me looking. At the end of the garden another cat is in the tree attempting to climb that bit further to find a better spot.

Back in my front room the sun lights up the white walls of the house across the road, the snow on the roof the only clue that it's winter. A lady walks down the alley beside the house, long woolly boots and coat and hat to keep her warm. She looks happy and I wonder if she is meeting anyone. My mind wanders to a fantasy about her and goes off down an alleyway all of its own.

On the table are two canvasses I have been working on for some time now. At least twice I have completely painted over one and started again. I wonder if I will ever be satisfied with how it looks. It's a bit of an experiment anyway. The other is for my daughter. Really I am frightened to touch either of them in case I make another mistake, but then nothing is ever accomplished. I feel stuck, and it occurs to me that this is also exactly how my life is at the moment, and has been for some time now.