The only thing
between me
and a journalism degree
was the
Allenby Terrace steps.
Well, there
was at least one
other hurdle – but
those steps started
to bite. And rather
quickly.
Best to blame them,
since the real reason
escapes me still
(a good reason to
still be writing, funnily
enough).
Every time I head
down that hill
I think, still,
of being sat right
outside the journalism
class,
my phoney – but all
too real – Lucky Strikes.
(Just take a deep breath.
Exhale. Alright.
Light another…)
Round the corner to play
pool and have a beer.
Taking the easy road
that got a lot
harder.
(That alone would
have been a deep
disappointment to
my dad).
Those early
years straight after,
ensuring the ‘free’ stayed
in freelancing…never
advancing up the pay-scale
but getting recognised for a
name or face in the paper.
And then speaking to
uni students, Media Studies,
tutoring, guest-lecturing…
The question that was always
hardest to answer at the end
of any talk.
(how to chart my mistake)
“So you’re a journalist/writer/reviewer…blogger…
How did this happen? Like for example,
what steps did you take?”
Poem: 20 Years of Allenby Tce
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