Paul Heiney
n a quiet moment while becalmed in the Irish Sea an uncomfortable thought crossed my mind, not helped by a dull and nagging ache in my thigh. The pain was from my wallet which was still smarting having shelled out a large proportion of the National Debt for a tankful of diesel back in Falmouth. I watched the numbers on the diesel pump clicking round, every click a day’s wages when I was but a lad. And now I sat in the middle of the
