Inky Interview Exclusive: Former Cheshire Poet Laureate John Lindley by Deborah Edgeley

You were appointed Cheshire Poet Laureate in 2004, and Manchester Cathedral Poet of the Year in 2010. Congratulations! When did you first discover your passion for words?

Almost as soon as I could speak it seems I was making up little songs. I’m not sure that’s particularly unusual. It’s what many children do. I became an avid reader and certainly essay writing – or ‘composition’ as it was referred to – was a joy to me. I began writing poetry (badly) in my early teens.

You have written many poetry collections including Scarecrow Crimes (New Hope International, 2002), House of Wonders (Riverdane, 2008), and The Casting Boat (Headland, 2009). Your new prizewinning collection, Love and Crossbones, will be launched in 2018. Can you tell us about this? Where is the launch?

I was fortunate to be shortlisted in an international poetry competition following my entering the initially required submission of 20 pages of poetry. The 3 prizewinners were to be published. On receiving the balance of my collection I learned after the judge’s selection that I had won 3rd prize. SPM, the publishers, missed the scheduled publication date and the launch at The Poetry Cafe in Covent Garden at the end of June had to be cancelled. The book is now due for publication on 25th July 2018. Whenever it happens, I intend holding an eventual local launch in Congleton whatever other plans there may be.

You are an experienced performer, having read at many festivals, including Buxton, Edinburgh Fringe, and Ledbury. What were Bunch of Fives and Fourpenny Circus about?

These were 2 touring shows that attempted to combine original poetry with elements of theatre. The first involved poets Joy Winkler, Jo Bell, Andrew Rudd, Harry Owen and myself. Fourpenny Circus was the same cast minus Harry who was, by then, living in South Africa. We had Action Transport’s director Kevin Dyer working with us and sets and scenery were employed. The shows were far and away the most ambitious projects I’ve been involved in.

Tell us about your cinematic based show Reel To Real.

It’s a one-man show in which my poems, all taken from my cinema-themed collection, Screen Fever, are performed, accompanied by or integrated with projected film footage. Thankfully, it’s been very well received and seems to be a show that appeals to both poetry enthusiasts and, because of its subject matter, to those with little or no interest in poetry; those who would not normally attend a more conventional reading. I’ll be performing it again at The Old Saw Mill in Congleton on 13th September as part of Congleton’s Heritage Festival.

In Embers and Sparks (Riverdane, 2014) you go in search of Dylan Thomas, as poet Phil Williams puts it, ‘the legends, photographs, artefacts, and recordings echo through John’s rhymes.’ Could you please share with us one of the poems, and walk us through the inspiration behind it?

Laugharne 1949

Not waking to the wall of his wife’s back,
he wakes instead to her risen absence,
coughs twice, shakes the last dimp from the pack,
scratches a match, lights up, smokes his first since

last night’s last breath before sleeping. Rising,
he reads the morning away, buttons up,
climbs forty-one steps, breathes hard, starts walking
to his parents’ house, reaches their door, raps.

With no cross words but the one they work on,
he and his father read the clues, fill in gaps
in their relationship with pencil. Then
Dylan crosses to Brown’s for beer and gossip.

At two, in the shed warmed by anthracite
and Cat’s love, he nags a poem’s forming frame,
takes an hour to take a comma out,
another hour to put it in again.

That evening he shipwrecks in a warm tub,
a rack of boiled sweets bridging his crotch,
then supper and the cliff road to the pub
under the heron’s and the cormorant’s watch.

Not another sound on the darkening path
bar the odd cough and the scuff of his tread
but close behind him he detects the breath
of a poem that trails him from the writing shed.

Then, the kids in bed, Caitlin follows on
to Brown’s where he entertains and she mocks him
till, for better or worse, she and Dylan
make it home, make tea, make love or mayhem.

I would imagine that anyone familiar with Laugharne will recognise the geography of this poem: the Boathouse where Dylan lived with his wife Caitlin and their children in the last 4 years of his life; his nearby writing shed; his favourite pub, Brown’s Hotel, and the Pelican house opposite which he’d moved his parents into. ‘Routine’ (the poem’s title) isn’t a word one would normally apply to Dylan’s often chaotic life but it seems to me that there was a semblance of it in the first few months of his move back to Laugharne before things truly began to fall apart for him. I like to write in a variety of styles and chose straightforward quatrains with a regular rhythm and an ABAB rhyme scheme for this poem, perhaps to try to convey that sense of relative order in his day-to-day workings then. I preferred, though, not to end-stop many of the lines and to employ quite a few slant rhymes to aid the flow of the poem and to avoid it falling into a style more mechanical and predictable than I felt appropriate for it.

You provided distance learning workshops for writers in Africa as part of the British Council’s Crossing Borders project. How wonderful. Tell us more.

It was a British Council funded project run by Lancaster University. A number of writers were involved, covering various genres such as novel writing, playwriting and, in my case, poetry. We were providing distance learning via set tutorials to adult writers across Africa. At one point I was asked to visit Nairobi to run face-to-face workshops for a week with a group of students and to give a public reading. It was a thrilling experience and I’m grateful that I was given that opportunity.

As a creative writing tutor, have you any snippets of advice for writers? Do you ever get writer’s block? If so, what do you do?

‘Read poetry’ is my advice. It’s remarkable how many aspiring poets read no-one but themselves. I’d recommend reading a broad range – funny, serious, rhymed, free verse, ancient and modern and the stuff in between. It should be a pleasure, not a chore. Anthologies are a good start. Not every style encountered will be liked, of course, but I believe it’s good to be open-minded.

I suffered a long period – 3 or 4 years – of writer’s block in the early 90s. Keats’ dictum that “If poetry comes not as naturally as the leaves to a tree it had better not come at all.” didn’t resonate with me. I finally ended the block by making a determined attempt to immerse myself in poetry again: reading, attending workshops and readings and generally trying hard to reconnect to a poetry scene which I’d been neglecting.

You recently performed at Holmes Chapel library as part of a band, and have a CD available called Wasteland. How did this come about?

I’ve always written songs but, with not really considering myself a singer/musician, have generally looked on songwriting as of decidedly secondary interest to my poetry. About a year ago I began to think that I would like some of those songs to see the light of day, rather than exist as merely lyric sheets with accompanying chords that would surface only at the occasional jam session I’d take part in at the pub. I had a tremendous amount of help from others I recruited to play on, record and produce the CD. The idea of doing live performances, before or after the album was done, never entered my head. We’ve done two so far with another in the pipeline but I certainly don’t view this as a new line of work for me! All proceeds from CD sales are for charity so it’s been good that money continues to be raised through these gigs.

What advice would you give to your younger self?

Believe me, Deborah, he wouldn’t listen. He was a rebellious little bugger.

You also held workshops with people in prison. It must have been so rewarding?

Very much so. Demanding and challenging too, though. I was offered a 3 year residency at Lichfield Prison but enjoy the variety of my freelance work so much, I turned it down.

Tell us a story in five words.

My dog and coffee calls.

What kind of work did you collaborate on with American artist Daniel Bonnell?

I came across his work when searching for a suitable cover image for my collection, The Casting Boat. The title poem is one about a search for faith and I found some of his Christian paintings online and was particularly taken with them. I approached him for permission to use one them and a correspondence began. He liked my work and, despite knowing that I was an atheist, suggested a collaboration in which I would write poems in response to 50 of his paintings. It was a fascinating enterprise for me. From time to time I give designated performances of some of the poems and talk of the collaboration against a projected backdrop of Daniel’s paintings. These readings have usually been in churches and, a couple of years ago, I was booked to give the reading at a national preachers’ conference. It was hugely enjoyable. The show’s title, Crossing the Divide, signifies Daniel’s and my distinct worlds – American/English, Painter/Poet , Believer/Atheist – meeting. Another happy outcome was that one of the poems, Annunciation, that I wrote during this project won the International Religious Poetry Competition, the result meaning that they found themselves with a fully-paid up, card carrying atheist as Manchester Cathedral Poet of the Year! I’ve included the poem in my forthcoming collection, Love & Crossbones.

What are you reading at the moment?

Adventures of a Ballad Hunter by John A. Lomax. It was originally published in 1947 and has recently been republished. It’s an account of the extensive folk song collecting and field recordings that the author undertook in the first half of the 20th century. He amassed hundreds of ballads, blues, spirituals, cowboy songs and more that would otherwise have been lost forever. This kind of thing fascinates me.

I’m currently reading too Required Writing: Miscellaneous Pieces 1955 – 1982 by Philip Larkin. Larkin remains one of my favourite poets despite myself holding polar opposite views to those he held on so many things.

Apart from your book launch of the excellent Love and Crossbones this year, what’s next for you? What plans have you got?

My plans, alongside my regular workshops and open mic events I run, are for the Reel to Real performance in September I mentioned, a collaborative show as part of Goosfest 2018 in which I’m working with a duo performing Bob Dylan songs, a few day’s WWI project work in a Crewe primary school in November, a weekend’s workshop course in Southport for OU students and some other bits and pieces. Other things get fitted in as they come along. I’m not always sure what’s coming next which, as I do this for a living, can be both exciting and a little worrying at times! I presume it’s the same situation for many others who, like me, work freelance.

I’m to be one of the contributors to a project John Gorman in Liverpool has set up, the Quality of Mersey, in which I will attempt to write a poem about the River Mersey’s source in Stockport – my birthplace. I’m also to write a poem for Mark Sheeky’s exhibition at Stockport Art Gallery based on one of his paintings. You know and work with Mark, of course, Deborah. I hope to be busy too when Love & Crossbones is published and launched in putting together and delivering a series of readings from the book.


Andy Miller interviews John Lindley

The following interview was conducted by the writer, Andy Miller who I first met last year. To see the full, illustrated version, please check out Check this blog out anyway – Andy is a fine writer and you’ll see details of how to buy his excellent 5 star-rated new collection. There’s some information on Andy at the end of this piece.

Friday, 6 April 2012

Conversation with John Lindley

AM: We only met for the first time in 2011 but I have been delighted to do so as I have been aware of some of your writing about Bob Dylan for many years. I hadn’t realised that you were a poet and that you have managed to develop a career as such. Can I start by asking what your stated occupation is on your passport? 

JL:  It’s been a pleasure meeting you too, Andy. My old passport, now expired, doesn’t record an occupation. If it did, it would now be ‘Poet & Creative Writing Tutor’. I’ve read many views on the self-application of the word ‘poet’, varying from the “Nobody has the right to call themselves a poet” (what should I say though – ‘plumber’?) to Roger McGough’s remembrance of Heaney once saying something along the lines of “If you write a poem – you’re a poet”. I’ve always liked the remark by Tony Curtis (the poet, not the actor) that “Poets often go disguised as respectable people”.
AM: Before we talk about your current work and the significant milestones on your journey to this point, can I ask about your early forays into writing creatively? Was there one piece that you can remember as the very first poem or story or whatever? How old were you? And was this the first piece that provided that vital external acknowledgement and validation, the first piece you had published?
JL: My first poem, written when I was about 13 or 14, was about Muhammad Ali who I idolised at that time. The poem, as was the case with most of those in my teens, was awful! The first piece I had published was in my local newspaper and I soon learned that that doesn’t really count, as local rags will publish almost anything. I was in my mid-twenties before I began submitting work to magazines and my first acceptance was by the New Manchester Review.

AM: Muhammad Ali, eh? I’d guess that most teenage lads who idolise a boxer might themselves be tempted to climb into the ring at a local youth club or some dive down the darker end of town. I’m wondering why you chose a literary response? Presumably you were a reader, maybe a writer too, as a child? Can you describe your early literary influences – people, books etc – before that very first poem and also the subsequent period until the acceptance by the New Manchester Review?

JL: All of my early poems were sports related. I was a football fanatic and boxing was not something I ever imagined would capture my imagination. For a few years though, I was subscribing to U.S boxing magazines and reading what I could find on the history of the sport. Ali was the catalyst for all this: the most spellbinding and charismatic figure I’d encountered – both in the ring and out of it. With the stripping of his title following his Vietnam draft refusal my interest in boxing ceased immediately. Why a literary response? Well, English was the only subject at school in which I excelled to any degree and the poetry of others (although I can’t recall anyone specifically) was already beginning to appeal, even before I entered my teens. Around the ages of 15 and 16 the Liverpool Poets – McGough, Patten and Henri – were influences outside the school curriculum (though, strangely, not the Beats whose work I distrusted), whilst in school the WW1 poets were an inspiration, if not an obvious influence on my writing. Dom Moraes, an Indian poet writing in English, had a huge influence (on occasion, almost to the point of plagiarism!) on my early attempts at poetry. I have a collection of his, borrowed, and inadvertently never returned, from Stockport Library in 1972. I hope that no librarians will be reading this on your Blog, Andy. I fear that my fine, for long overdue return, will be astronomical.

AM: Well, my Blog needs all the readers it can get but I think you are safe as librarians, sadly, seem to be fighting for survival at the moment in the currently philistine political climate (imo). Your response above, John, raises a number of interesting points – and coincidences. I’m conducting two other interviews concurrently with this one, the first with my friend the Derbyshire poet, David Duncombe, who was a very keen boxer and the other with my old school friend, Roger Draper, my ‘first editor’, who introduced me to the Beat Poets around 1964. Of the themes we could pursue, I suppose at the moment I’m most interested in your comment about not trusting the Beats. I was swept away by Kerouac’s The Dharma Bums at the time although I haven’t revisited it from a more mature position (and suspect I would find it – and my younger self – terribly naive). But I do still find lines from Ginsberg’s Howl surfacing in my consciousness at times and I do still like it. Can you say a bit more about your early distrust of those writers?

JL: I think that this distrust stemmed from the fact that the poetry of Ferlinghetti, Ginsberg, Corso and others was so alien to my limited understanding at the time of what poetry was and is. The experimental, free-form nature of much of this stuff left me baffled and I was suspicious that there was a large element of con about it. I was totally unaware of precedents to their style from the likes of Rimbaud nearly a hundred years earlier. Certainly, my understanding and appreciation of works like Kaddish and Howl grew fairly rapidly in the years following my earlier dismissal. I do still find some of the Beats’ work wildly inconsistent and uneven. Ginsberg, for instance, was, at his best, a powerfully compelling, mesmerising and exciting poet (and performer), in my view. At his worst, I regard the results of his resistance to anything that might display the vaguest notion of crafting, as rambling and sloppy. He once said (in a stance against the redrafting of poems), “First thought – best thought.” It prompted the succinct response from one reviewer of one of his collections, “First read- last read.” I always felt that I came to some of the Beats’ writing too early, and to others – Kerouac’s On the Road and (though not really classed with that movement) Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye – too late. I didn’t read those two books until well into my twenties. What effect they would have had on my feelings and actions at say, seventeen, I can only imagine.

AM: Yes, I understand and think I feel the same from my rather limited reading of Ginsberg. Incidentally, and I know this probably sounds pretentious, but I genuinely prefer, in both Kerouac’s and Salinger’s cases, their other books. I couldn’t finish On The Road but loved the evocation of his 1930s French Canadian upbringing in some of his other books. I did rate ‘Catcher’ more but nowhere near as highly as Salinger’s strange and wonderful tales of the Glass family in his other books. 

Of course these writers, especially Ginsberg, bring us closer to Bob Dylan who I’m looking forward to discussing with you. But before we do, can you fill me in on some of the milestones in your writing career? I know that you were recently the Poet Laureate for Cheshire and I am in the process of reading, and enjoying very much, your 2009    collection ‘The Casting Boat’. What would you say have been the significant points along the way for you?    
JL: In the 70s and 80s I’d had some measure of success in a couple of poetry competitions and been fairly widely published in magazines. All of that was encouraging, of course, but the first significant milestone, to my mind, was undoubtedly my first (properly) published collection. On two occasions, once in the early 70s (far too early in my own writing development) and again in the early 80s, I’d self-published pamphlets, but my collection Stills from November Campaigns, published in 1998 by Tarantula – a Manchester poetry press with, believe it or not, no Bob Dylan connection whatsoever – was a real lift. I’d suffered a long bout of writer’s block from 1990 – 1996 in which I’d barely written anything, but that collection came after a particularly prolific 18 month period and one in which I was trying very hard to reconnect with the poetry scene: performing at open mic’s, submitting work, going out again to see other poets, etc. Each published collection since that first  has been a thrill, of course, and, yes, I’d have to list Cheshire Poet Laureate as a milestone too (albeit a fading one. It was back in 2004). Running workshops in Nairobi for a week and giving a reading over there was an unforgettable experience too. Obviously, all of these are personal milestones – significant, I’m sure, in no-one’s estimation but my own! Poetry, and any of its attendant ‘successes’, don’t figure too prominently on most people’s radar, I’d think. What about you, Andy? What have you viewed as your writing milestones?
AM: Thanks John. And well done! As well as ability, obviously, and perseverance, I think it takes guts to live the writer’s, and especially the poet’s, life. You’ve used a quote from a headstone as a title of one of your poems – ‘Foolish enough to have been a poet’ – and, although there is parody here, I’m sure there will have been pressures on you at times to devote yourself to a ‘proper job’, pressures which can play havoc with the muse and the craft.
You ask about me. Well, I can never quite consider myself ’a writer’ although I have written and published quite a bit over the years, most of it in my career as an educational psychologist. I’ve been very fortunate to have been a member of a profession that sets pretty high store by folks debating, writing and publishing and there have been a number of very gratifying milestones along the way. In terms of my ‘other writing’, well, pretty much all of it, apart from the really awful doggerel, is in ‘While Giants Sleep’, the subject of this Blog. I was staggered to win the Yeovil Poetry Prize last year and back twenty years or so ago to have been commended in another couple of competitions. My little book ‘Hanging in the Balance’ received a couple of stunning reviews in the climbing press around that time too from well respected writer/climbers, so that was amazing for me.
One little ambition of mine had always been to have something published about Bob Dylan. I’d tried to write a poem once, in the late 60s or early 70s, and it was truly ghastly. Awful. But I did get the opportunity in the late 90s to contribute a chapter to an American book and that is also included in ‘Giants’. I’m aware I took the easy option, along the lines of ‘what BD has meant to me’ rather than something more critical or original, but when I thought about it I realised I had nothing really to offer in those respects that had not already been said. You have written about Dylan over a long time span, can you say something about the origins and early days of your interest?
 JL: I watched Dylan’s broadcast concert for the BBC, split over two successive weeks, in 1965. I knew nothing of him before that other than the fact that he’d written some of the songs Peter, Paul and Mary and Joan Baez performed on records owned by my older sister. I remember really liking what I heard and saw in those broadcasts but it wasn’t until 1969 that Dylan’s hook became truly embedded in me. That year I read the major interview he did with Jann Wenner in Rolling Stone magazine – an issue that also contained Greil Marcus’ wonderful article on Dylan bootlegs. I began, as fast as my limited income at the time would allow me, to buy Dylan’s back catalogue of albums. By, I guess, the Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid soundtrack album, I was pretty much up to date and subsequently have bought the albums as they’ve appeared.
AM: So much has been said and written about Dylan, too much in some quarters in my opinion, and yet I still find his work and much of the discussion of it, compelling. I have had periods of disillusion. I’ll admit it, I was one of those who thought at the time that going electric was an ideological crime (‘I was so much older then …’) and the stridency of his Born Again Christianity in Regan’s America I found very hard to swallow on early listening. But I always find myself coming back, catching up with his changes of direction, and eventually becoming awed all over again by his art. Not all of it necessarily, but a good proportion of his half a century of output.
I started this conversation by referring to your writings about Dylan. Can you give an outline of these, and if that leads to you saying more about the nature of that ‘embedded hook’ so much the better.   
JL: Given my long-term interest in Dylan, surprisingly little of my poetry has referred to him. I read at Congleton Library in late 2010 as part of a celebration of Dylan in poetry and song and found myself having to specifically write a poem for inclusion as I had nothing (at least nothing new and of any worth) of my own to offer!
My article writing on Dylan started with a piece published in Endless Road magazine in 1982. Over the years, occasional articles have been published in Look Back, Isis and The Bridge. My most concentrated period of article writing was between 1984 and 1994 for the Dylan magazine The Telegraph, although my output was nothing like as prolific as some of the other regular contributors. Most of my pieces were actually requested (I’d say ‘commissioned’ but there was no payment involved) by the editor of The Telegraph, John Bauldie. After 1994 I wrote nothing further on Dylan (apart from the editorial for Telegraph 56 in 1997, along with other work on that issue to complete the final edition following John’s death) for 12 years. This was a deliberate attempt by me, following the poetry writing block I mentioned earlier, to turn my writing away from Bob Dylan and put the focus back on my own poetry (although I certainly wouldn’t seek to attribute blame for my 5 year fallow poetry period on the distraction of Dylan!). Like you, Andy, I guess I was believing that too much was being said and written about him (“Too much information about nothin’ – too much educated rap.”) and I no longer felt like adding to it.
AM: Thank you for this, John, and especially for bringing together the final issue of The Telegraph following John Bauldie’s tragic death. I have read some but not all of your other pieces on Dylan and, since we’ve met in person last year via a new Dylan Interest Group, I look forward to being able to hear and read more. I wonder whether we can stick with him for just a little longer before concluding this conversation? Over the years I’ve enjoyed sharing my interest in Dylan’s work, and my enthusiasm for it, with various mates. And I suspect that I am not alone in having had to also put up in other quarters with a healthy amount of teasing, sometimes a pitying regard and even the odd spot of anger and vitriol. I accept that this goes with the territory but about 10 years ago a bright but puzzled postgraduate student said to me “Bob Dylan? Did he sing ‘Candle in the Wind’?” It was then I knew that as a society we were failing in our task of cultural transmission, that Ofsted needed to come down even harder on our educational institutions and that I myself had said too little on the topic rather than too much. So, and seriously, if you had 250 words or so to tell this student why Bob Dylan is both important and potentially so enjoyable, what would you say?
J.L. Wow! OK. Please allow me though, before getting to my 250 words, to add something to your ‘cultural transmission’ fear. I’m a lover of older movies – silent era to the early 50s – and, having amassed around 50 poems of mine on the subject of ‘cinema’ I made, around 10 years ago, approaches to a couple of poetry publishers to gauge their interest in a themed collection. The response from one of them on reading the work was “We like these poems but wonder who, in this day and age, will have heard of Fatty Arbuckle?” Here in 2012, I’m beginning to ask whether we’re that far removed from fielding the question “Who has heard of James Dean and Marilyn Monroe?”, such is the current temporary nature of fame and shortness of memory. A get-out: Sorry student, I can’t sum up Dylan’s importance and the enjoyment that can be derived from his music in 250 words. I can’t do that any more than I believe an understanding and appreciation of this brilliant and multi-faceted performer and songwriter can be summed up in one, or even half a dozen, of his albums. That, in itself, is a measure to me of the range, uniqueness and epic qualities of this artist. He is both sparklingly original and deeply informed about, and indebted to, the art of others who went before him. He has been, for long periods of his career, a truly mesmerising, dazzlingly inventive performer and has also been (I have no reservations in adding this) one of rock, folk and blues music’s finest singers. Like any serious (and a damn funny one at times too!) artist, Dylan repays long and careful investigation. If that sounds a chore, it shouldn’t. A more rewarding and richly enjoyable study would be hard for me to imagine. His songwriting output is vast and sometimes flawed. The shifts in his musical direction can be baffling and questionable. But whilst his contradictions can be maddening, his risk-taking is admirable. That he is a compass to others in song and literature is a bonus. You can listen to Bob Dylan in interview and song and leave and explore in every direction. That he can be mentioned, without apology or qualification, in the same breath as 20th (and 21st ) century songwriters like George and Ira Gershwin, Irving Berlin, Cole Porter, Woody Guthrie, Hank Williams, Lennon and McCartney, Leonard Cohen, Tom Waits and others is testimony to his standing. That he may just be the greatest songwriter of them all may be debatable but it’s by no means laughable.
I think I’ve exceeded my 250 words. Told you.
AM: Wow again! What a superb summation! Next week’s lectures are all cancelled, bring your record players instead!
John, thank you so much for your time and attention to this interview. I’ve really enjoyed it. I hope readers – and my little blog counter indicates that people are reading these interviews – will be enthusiastic about seeking out your work. I can thoroughly recommend The Casting Boat and look forward to getting to know your other work. I’m including here your website address where people can find details of your publications and how to order them, as well as news of your various performances and workshops:    

Good luck!            


Andy Miller has won awards and commendations for his writing over a 25-year period. His poetry has been published in UK national magazines such as Iota, Staple, Envoi and Orbis and he was judged winner of the 2011 Yeovil Literary Prize for Poetry. In addition he has published articles and essays in ‘Climber’, ‘On The Edge’ and ‘She Magazine’ and a chapter in the 1999 US book, ‘Encounters with Bob Dylan’. He has recently brought together all these pieces into an anthology ‘While Giants Sleep’ (Amcott Press, 2011) and is currently completing his first novel. In his career as a practitioner psychologist and a special professor of educational psychology he published numerous peer-refereed journal articles and book chapters and 10 authored and edited books. He lives with his wife in Wirksworth, Derbyshire on the edge of the English Peak District.


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