Author: Thomas Kelly

Chapter 5 I sat on the edge of the pool, thrashing my legs in the warm water. It was late in the morning and surf, dragged up from the Gulf of Guinea, pounded the beaches at the end of the compound, rumbling with a deep roar. I tried not to worry about my brushes because…

Chapter 4 We had been on this trip for over a day, were very tired, hungry and no doubt dirty. My safari suit looked nothing like the one Daktari wore, indeed for all I cared I might have resembled Clarence the cross-eyed lion or Judy the chimpanzee. We just wanted to get to the appropriately…

Chapter 3 It was going to be a long day, and already the form fillers of the Nigerian Customs were hovering over what was left of the pile of our luggage on the tarmac. The carefully packed boxes were wilting as we were in the heat, the masking tape flapping in the breeze and they…

Chapter 2 It was one of the few times that I turned left on the plane and with all my extra baggage stowed as cargo I settled into a large seat, complete with British Caledonian tartan blankets in case we felt chilly. It was to be a night flight. David and I were conspicuous as…

Chapter 1 I have a son who was born in September 1986, though I was not at his birth or indeed at the hospital. The fact was that I was in Nigeria at that time on a business trip that proved to be amusing and scary and provided a story that is still extraordinary. Nigeria…

My fingers traced across the stones, exploring grooves where ropes had once been dry and taut Securing the hull of the brigantine which lay like an elephant on its side, weakened and caught And brought to land, its masts wrestled to the ground as rigging thrashed and whipped them well They the unwilling, the press-ganged,…

I was glad to be awake early. The room was bathed in bright sunlight and shadows broke through slatted blinds to project dark shapes across the cool white walls. The morning warmth enveloped me as the fan turned slowly barely moving the humid air. The rhythmic lapping of gentle waves over coral sharp sand enticed…

The sun is fighting to break through an early mist to allow weak shadows to fall onto grass Between the silent granite sentry posts that hold the stories of my new adopted friends. The stones carry names etched in mottled script telling of lives cut short or lived long And I stop to talk with…

Time was seeping away for me as I ran up and down the hills in Wrecclesham, carrying a rucksack of tins. These were used to weigh me down and came from my day job I had delivering groceries to small shops in South London from a distribution depot in Farnham. The drivers were allowed to…

It was one of those bright June evenings, still summer cold yet windy. He pulled up outside the Guildhall and parked his motorcycle into a ‘mother and child’ bay and killed the engine. The exhausts started to ping as they cooled. He moved his waist on the seat for a last look at his face…