All the Time that I’ve Known You

This is a piece of light music I wrote on a music programme. Please click on the item to listen.

The Frog and the Sensitive Boy.

He was disconnected from life but did not understand the disconnection. He was cruel to life not having any empathy. He was at one within himself but he was not at one with life. Oneness with life is about respect for life, the pool of life, the family of life. Life is bigger than us all, it moves through the days and nights like a turtle climbing a beach to lay her eggs, one step at a time.

Life, we are reminded, is sighing and groanng all together, man kills man, animal kills animal, the earth pushes and shoves against itself. Within life, there is the cruelty of the single minded psychopath, the sociopath, the hunter, the manipulator, the spoiler. Life doesn’t need an organiser or a manipulator, it needs a referee, an umpire, someone to stop the arguments, the disputes from turning into conflict.

Sensitivity to life is not oversensitivity, it just is. It has accepted that life is far from perfect and that things can go wrong in a big way, which means the extinction of life, the driving away and the hunting down of life. Sensitivity to life is normal, it’s the hunters and the slayers and the ones who like to annihilate and who defend their status by saying or accusing the sensitive one of being too sensitive and confusing them as to who is in control of life and what is allowable in life.

You’re being too sensitive says the little boy who stabes a frog or picks the legs from an insect but he doesn’t like sensitivity. Sensitivity in another is a threat to his higher than thou status; his belief in his right to be in control over life and death and if there is no God, who is there to reprimand him. He feels supreme, he feels like god and that is what he lives for. But life isn’t living to be supreme, to be seperated from God, life has to deal with death everyday and knows from experience that life needs to be protected from those who are insensitive and who permit themselves to be like gods.

We were children outside school in the dinner break. We went into the gorse by the canal and there was a frog minding its own business. One boy in the group stabbed it with a stick and staked it into the ground and then exalted over his action. The group as a group said nothing because children aren’t taught about Life, about how life is vulnerable and needs to be protected. It was left to die there. But after school I went back alone, I pulled out the stake and put it back into the canal. I partly realised it would probably drown there, I wasn’t saving it from its slow death but I felt I was putting it back with its family, back into the enviroment that loved it.

You’re being oversensitive said the self appointed leader. But I was not being oversensitive, I was being as one in life, I was arguing for sensiivity as the norm’. Without sensitivity to life – life would be torn apart by the hunter, the psycopath, the one who likes to be in control over life and death.


I Live on the Streets of Windsor

Please click on the link to see a PDF of the music.

i live on the streets of Windsor

Lyrics to I live on the streets of Windsor

I live on the streets of Windsor
But they want to take me away
And leave me in the graveyard
Where life is not so gray

I saw a band of soldiers
With a marching band
Ev’ry man there he was ready
To die fighting for his land

I’m sleeping under cardboard
I cannot get to sleep
The rollers drive right past me
They make me quietly weep

I live on the streets of Winsor
I sleep on paper and card
They’ll move me to the graveyard
Where life is not so hard




Lesley’s Song

Please click on link to see PDF of the song.

Lesley’s Song

Lyrics to Lesley’s Song


Lesley’s always sitting down Trying to work out why
She don’t come to terms with people No matter how she tries shes always
She’s watching for the signs that hang On the city walls
Outside railway stations and on Foreign city halls

Lesley gets the blues you know she Gets them just like mine she
Tries to find the truth but The truth she’ll never find
The Passers by in Goodall Sstreet Don’t pay her any mind
And the church bells they go spining In the playground of humankind

She’ll sit there very nobly And then begin to quote
How it is that solid living seems to escape her the most
Just so we would see by the Distressed look in her eyes
She won’t give up trying It will be hers in time

She’s looking for the truth (you know) Without wearing her disguise
Not looking for an entrance That she follows in your eyes
For when the crisis came along She had nowhere to run
And her dreams are free floating And her heart seems over run

She’s sitting by the window cill Looking at the rain
And the window pulls a face And whispers someones name
She’s dressed in Victoriana Sometimes maybe sighing
She sits there maybe praying Then she says maybe she’s dieing


And why oh why don’t we all break down in tears
After all the trouble Of the past ten thousand years
Tell her why, tell her why She wants to know this time
Now while it seems important And she’s in this frame of mind


Big Al and the mystery dock.


Big Al
Big Al (Alan Menzies, docker)

I met Big Al at the Kingdom Hall. He asked me to do a painting of himself and his dog. Wow I thought, this is fantastic. Al was aa awesme retired docker and I felt privelledged. This was a study in oil pastel and in some ways was better than the 5 foot panting  I did for him. He kept pressing me to finish his painting and so I couldn’t put much into it.         Hused to drive an old yellow Ford Cortina I think it was. It was not a family car, it was a workers car, one that took him to work every day, a tin can on wheels. Yet it had grown around him like asecond skin and he drove it like he was born in it. Then one day he turned up at my door and said he wanred to take me out somewhere. I had undignosed pernicious aneamia and felt terrible, but there was no refusing Big Al. And where did he take me, the Imperial War Museum! The thing that stood out most among the war machines was an evil bust of Adolph Hitler. Well it was awesome. And now let me get back to bed Al. He was a married man and he was protective of his wife about whom I knew nothing. He liked his painting and put it up on his wall.

study for big al
Study for Big Al

He died a few years ago. And the docks where he worked? They were gone, or they were in transition, they were halfway between one world and the next. God bless you, Big Al.




“Prehistoric man with a herd of animals”


The first people, the first travellors to to cross a continent; a world teeming with wild life. Abel the herdsman, Cain the farmer and city builder. What lifestyle has caused the most destruction?


Limehouse Chinatown Project: The Interviews


The Limehouse Chinatown project was a local history project. It included talking to the Chinese people about their experiences. The difficulty was, they mostly didn’t speak English, so, I got an interpreter to help me. The interviews were conducted at the Chinese Association in Commercial Road, Limehouse.



Years ago, in Limehouse, we had every mortal thing we wanted. Just like Poplar and Wapping, Limehouse had every shop you needed in Grenade Street and Three Colt Street. We had two bakers, two butchers, fish shops, everything, and it was busy the whole time. I remember the fish and chip shop in Broad Street. We’d ask for ‘a ha’penny bit of na’porth’, and mustard pickle on top, and we thought that was marvellous.


In Limehouse, we lived near a farm, believe it or not, and a dairy where they milked the cows. We used to look through the crack and watch them milking the cows. I can remember the smell of Michaelmas daisies, and I think of that garden when I smell them now. I can remember the milkman. He’d let the rainwater fall into the milk to make it go further. You used to go out there with your can, and if you weren’t in, there used to be a hook at the top of your front door, and he’d hook the can on there, galvanised cans.



When I was young, round Limehouse, we wasn’t allowed down Chinatown. West India Dock Road used to be full of Lascars

They had a place near the West India Dock, and they’d go out from there to work in the Dock. As they went back in, they’d always wash their hands and their feet. They used to go up the Lane and buy the old clothes. They wasn’t very tall people.

The Limehouse Causeway was big cobble stones, difficult to walk on. It started at Three Colt Street, and went to Gill Street. It was very narrow, and the roads were always littered with Puckapoo papers. Puckapoo was a Chinese game played in all the shops in the Causeway. Anyone could play. They used to bet sixpence. I only went once. Mrs Payne told me to run and put this bet on. There was a Chinese paper square with all Chinese words on it and they used to mark it with a brush. I got a clout for going. My brother Billy gave it to me.

We used to go in the Chinese Restaurants for our ‘Chang wins’. That’s fried batter with all different pieces in; sage and onions, bits of chickens.

I wanted an Anna May Wong haircut. And the barbers wouldn’t cut it. So, I said, ‘If you don’t give me that cut, I’m going to tell my brother Billy you wouldn’t give me a normal haircut. ‘ And he cut it, the fringe and all. Billy used to go and have a drink in the Railway Pub, and it used to be men only. I opened the door” and I said, ‘Where’s our Billy?’ Peter Ruddock came out. He said, ‘Annie, he’ll kill you when he sees your hair!’ They’re all coming out to have a look at me. And then they told my brother. Directly I see him coming out the little door, I run for me life.


My grandmother used to go gambling down Chinatown. My mother used to hate it, because it always used to be raided by the police. She used to play Puckapoo, rather like bingo. And of course, one particular night it did get raided and that cured her. She didn’t go down again. As a kid, I loved the air of mystery about it. It was exciting, that area. Such tales went round, like stories about the old white slave traffic. They would capture beautiful young girls and they would be whipped off the street and sold into slavery. Or if a girl disappeared, they’d always say. ‘Oh, she’s been sold as a white slave!’

The sailors used to come off the ships and they used to go into Charlie Brown. And they used to spend their money very quickly. Well of course they used to bring all of these things from abroad. Charlie Brown had watches like clocks. They had them all up in his room. He’d buy them from the sailors for next to nothing. There was an old man, the old Chinaman in Pennyfields, old Ching was his name. Every Chinese New Year, he used to buy the English children new shoes because he loved children, he was ever such a good man he was.


My brother Freddie worked outside Browns on the barrels, and they gave him permission to take us in there. We were never normally allowed in. And when you went in, the prostitutes were sitting on the sailors’ laps. It was just like a film. It had a stage and everything. The opium was round the back. And opposite, by the Blue Post pub that was done out lovely in there, that’s all the rich people used to go to look at the antiques — was where the Chinese had a temple. It was beautiful. All the people walked in, and they had a clock run by water. Oh, it was marvellous.

When Charlie Brown died, we all lined West India Docks Road, singing, ‘Poor old Charlie. Blinkin’ dead ‘.

We used to sit up half the night watching all the prostitutes. You’d be surprised, girls who’d come down hcne from up North. They’d never have any shoes. We used to give names to them. ‘No Shoes’, ‘Baby-face’. Now Baby Face was a very rich woman. She come from a very rich family and something must have happened. She had a room in Chinatown on the Causeway. She used to do all her slitting up the other end but she was dressed marvellous. She fetched a little boy down from her home, and she paid for him to go to school, but she didn’t want nothing to do with the family. A very nice person.

When the prostitutes used to get doped up and they couldn’t do nothing them, they used to fetch them along to the police station on boards. They used to have a strap round the middle and a strap for their legs and they’d take them in like that, men and women. We lived right opposite in Limehouse. When my boy was in bed I’d stand on the doorstep with my neighbour chatting. They used to say Limehouse was terrible.


Came by plane, very happy, cannot understand air hostess on plane Kwang Jong from Hong Kong — England. When arrived in airport (Hong Kong) did not know how to change planes. Man helped them to find plane. Waited a long time. Passport control asked a lot of questions, carried lots of Chinese medicine. Alison had flu. Man called Chinese translator, go out with luggage. Grandparents meet, then go to house from airport.

Grandparents came to England first. Parents came to England by boat during Vietnam war. 20 years old when got here, now 21. They clean house, lino and carpet. Don’t like rice, like noodle. Work in Noodle in North London. Parents and grandparents are here. Jenny live new house with grandparents.

Restaurant Washing up. Hong Kong, elderly. Went from China to – worked in Viet Nam, then to England.

May 18th. Chinese from Vietnam 1979-80 to Hong Kong— England refugee camps — Scotland, Yorkshire, Ashford


Lived in Guanantzhou — China. 19. Worked in restaurant. Came 19 years ago here. Husband opened restaurant St. George, London. Husband didn’t want her, he married another. Council translator service at doctors. Rhis area service and government. Mon — Fri comes lunch here (Chinese Association, Limehouse), likes to sing Chinese songs, Beijing opera, Karaoke. 6 years in this area, likes church singing. Husband left, homeless, sleep in wharf, met Japanese. Doesn’t speak English so wrote to Japanese girl who got police, who got her to another house, Red Cross Hostel.

Live in home, got money from there and got illness, mental illness. She want to die, don’t like this country. But her friend takes her back. After few months’ government got house in St. George, (out of London). Very happy all this year. Japanese lady helps employ lawyer, take a picture of her scars and bruises. Last year, June, she use Community, got divorced, no marry again.


80 yrs. old. Been here 19 years ago, before live in concentration camp (Vietnam). Wife died in 1986. When she came to England no job because no – – – buy ship, went to Hong Kong 15 months refugee camp. Job builder. He didn’t want to come to England because fighting between Vietnam – China. Chinese had to leave. Service welfare funds/service system feels better in this country.

Came to England, one English man helped friend (very polite) Brief going 5 yrs. Believes God in England. His children keep up the Chinese tradition. Came this community 11 yrs. ago. Like Chinese festival, dragon dancing. Write poems. Does Tai Chi exercises. Enjoy Chinatown Sat and Sun. Didn’t say what. Enjoy communities Ma Jong, Chinese cards. Meet elderly people to chat on past in Vietnam and future. And before this community celebrates mid-autumn day, moon day festival. October. Like Chinese spring festival, Chinese Valentine’s day festival. And reunion dinner, reunions rice family, all meet together for dinner. Stayed in memories —National Day. Arrived Jan. Cold. Daughter never seen ice, upset her when picked it up (in Yorkshire) here, has a future. Glad England is his country.



The Grenfell Tower Disaster


Please click on the link to see a PDF of the song.

Grenfell lyrics.

Verse 1

The second class citizen gets all the blame
The second class citizen you can’t even name
Holy in the high rise, tied to the stake
Locked in by fire, they needed escape.


There was a time when the classes all mixed
But daddy didn’t like it so he got it fixed.
You can’t see the brick but the walls always there
The poor are the losers, the rich ones don’t care.


Scenes that no-one should witness,
Scenes that no-one should see.
The grave is already in your garden
The torch is shining on your street.



A second class citizen in a Kensington street
A second class citizen they don’t want to meet
As they were burning, did you stand and watch
Is all that you were thinking is what will be the cost.


A second class citizen, who bangs on your door
A second class citizen, who muddies your floor
Asking for justice, their right to be heard
You pulled down your shutters, you locked up your door.


Second class citizens, they cost too much cash
Second class citizens, consigned to the past,
You deny their existance, but we’re all the same,
But you close both your eyes so you can’t see their pain.


An upper class citizen has dinner with a duke
An upper class citizen wants money for a nuke
You whitwash it over, but the anger is true
You let the poor suffer because what can they do?







Not for Sale in the USA

Not for Sale in the USA

Please click on the title to see a PDF of the song

Not for Sale in the USA, lyrics


This sun, this rain, this river; this field, this flower, this hay
This blue, this green, this purple; this white, this green, this grey
This baby, this mother, this father; this cat, this dog, this stray
Not of them are available for sale in the USA

Not for sale, in the USA, not for sale in the USA

This bridge, this house, this painting; this heart, this soul, this mind
This road, this street, this mountain; this family ties that bind
This school, this child, this teacher; this cup, this spoon, this tray
Non of them are available for sale in the USA


This farm, this barn, this tractor; this muscle, this set, these tears
These sheep, this cow, this chicken; these hopes, these dreams, these fears,
This sport, this thought, this culture; this job, this work, this play
No of them are available for sale in the USA



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