I Turned a Corner Once

By Red Blake

I Turned a Corner Once is a collection of poems that explore the experiences and relationships of the author over the course of fifty years. From their youth in a small coastal town in Cornwall in the 1950s, to hippy collectives and their career as an airline pilot, the poems in this book cover a wide range of themes including romance, humor, and the unknown consequences of our actions. Through it all, the author learns to embrace change and instinctively "turn the corner" towards new experiences. This book is a deeply personal and introspective look at the journey of self-discovery.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Aug 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9781398483453

Red Blake

Red Blake was born and raised in Cornwall, a small parish following Methodist doctrine and morality, he was often called to play the pipe organ at a local chapel, he loved all the music and architecture but had concerns about its philosophy and teachings—then one evening, he had an epiphany, and in less than five minutes, recognised he was an atheist and probably, still is. After dismantling and restructuring his thoughts, when not at school, he would surf, watch local aircraft, fitness train, observe how people reveal themselves, and make many, many notes. Red couldn’t wait to leave home. At 18 he moved away and went to flying training college, to get his commercial pilot’s licence and joined an established airline. Upgrading his licence he became a training captain, eventually qualifying as an examiner. This book has been nascent long before the author was aware, or prepared for it, youth of the fifties were often left to ‘pull themselves together’ without advice or support since society had no idea what was happening to old values and beliefs. Although London was the epicentre of change, small coastal towns became esoteric centres of reality for artists, hippies and those comfortable living on the fringe. St Ives was like this. The author enjoyed a surreal and abstract association in this company getting involved and started making notes on behaviour and circumstance, some physically charged, others quite benign, but intangible. At flying college, life became more linear and authoritative, but later in the airline, personal situations and relationships that often developed needed a wide spectrum of solutions. This collection of poems is not about one particular genre, per se, but written over fifty years encompassing many things, romance, humour, the eclectic, and other stuff! Red is married and has two children, both in their late thirties. He’s retired from commercial flying, but delights in all types of aircraft and is still always making notes and writing.

Book preview

1. School Trips

School trips always went to Stratford,

Our teachers thought Shakespeare was cool,

On the way home, for fifth form boys,

The train would stop at Totnes girl’s school,

Chances of romance were high,

The Totnes girls were seldom shy.

Stained train windows, light refracted,

Locomotives soot and smoke,

Counting telegraph poles distracted,

From puerile boys, poor dirty jokes,

Strung between each pole, were draped,

Power cables, parabolic shaped.

Creosote poles had wounds imparted,

Torn by splintered boot grip use,

Before the climbing foot rungs started,

Scandinavian spruce abuse.

Percussion on rails by metal wheels,

Rhythm from iron, steel on steel.

The lower fifth were all assigned,

While in a dark and noisy tunnel,

To search the carriage just behind,

And risk a bit of rough and tumble

With Totnes girls, all riding shotgun,

The boys got scared, so cut and run,

Reporting back from their endeavour,

Looking somewhat worse for wear,

They said they’d seen the best thing ever,

I kinda wished that I’d been there,

The girls behaved like living dolls,

Without a care for protocols.

We planned before the journeys end,

Our modus operandi,

A river walk with fifth form friends,

Eating chips and drinking shandy,

Past the theatre, teachers munched,

Their private personal Tupperware lunch.

Expecting all the boys to come,

And watch the taming of the shrew,

They sat on benches in the sun,

While searching for us in the queue.

Their boys who’ll miss the matinee,

Had bigger fish to fry today.

We already made another plan,

’Cause in our stealthy truant group,

Was carriage reconnaissance man,

Who’d spotted some girls in a troupe,

He shouted loudly to explain,

That’s her, in a boat, that’s her, from the train.

Every girl you’d ever wanted,

All you’d known rolled into one.

We all stopped walking, talking, haunted,

Look no more – for me, job done,

It was obvious the girl he meant,

In a boat with her friend, heaven sent…Amen

My friend and I broke from the queue,

And hired another rowboat too.

Her steering pal then whacked our boat,

My friend fell in, he couldn’t float,

He couldn’t swim, so she dived in,

And dragged him backwards by his chin

He was sobbing, coughing, bobbing

Up and down and water soaked,

You smiled, with two wet hands on offering,

Smiling back, I took them both,

His purple, cold and pimpled skin,

You stretched out further, and pulled him in.

You held my arm and smiled again,

Loathed to pull away too much,

I felt convinced you hadn’t feigned,

More than a closeness caused by touch,

Perhaps my thinking was eclipsed,

But I was smitten and bewitched.

I sensed you felt the same thing too,

Reluctant to wind up our debut,

Tightly gripping on my forearm,

With no intention of adieu,

Fate intervened the final twist,

Thanks for writing on my wrist.

In Parker biro I recall,

The first I’d seen, apart from school,

On physics teacher Johnson’s desk,

Your private number and address,

Fingers crossed, that you were keen,

I never ever wiped it clean.

The Shakespeare Theatre got a miss,

My new romance had topped the list,

A fun day out was had for sure,

And the train ride home, well, say no more,

Totnes Revisited

The Avon and my friend,

Once tried to come between us,

I saw him yesterday,

He wondered, did we keep in touch,

I told him Yeah, he asked how much,

So he could tell the fifth form boys,

Who still recount your natural poise,

And giving of yourself for free,

They wished it had been them, not me.

Still I’m humbled to remember,

You chose me as the best contender,

Picked me out from all the rest,

To be your newest, special guest.

The late train ride that took us back,

Showed undisguised plans of attack,

With neither of us holding back,

Sneaking cognacs from my rucksack,

Heavy petting, a lifetime pact,

Made beneath the luggage rack,

We wanted intimate liaison,

So both decided – bring it on,

We came together, in record time,

You were first, at Totnes station,

I lived farther down the line.

It’s been a year since I got home,

Now I’m on the train again,

We’ve missed each other, this I know,

From letters, brief calls on the phone,

It’s what we called long distance bonding,

Suffering saudade, nostalgic, longing,

A kinda ‘missing you’ syndrome,

From living life in monochrome,

Your presence is enough, but missing,

Our hands last touched a year ago,

My days are shades of empty, wishing,

Again you’d say, ‘I want you so,’

With sixteen minutes all alone,

That feeling of our afterglow,

You said you worked there in the bank,

I looked up banks in Totnes town,

It said there’s only one, just down,

Beside the shop for fish and chips,

So, risking an apocalypse,

Without a word, I got to grips,

To take a chance and just arrive.

Feeling nervous, stood outside,

To catch my breath, and then decide,

What would I say, and to who,

The only person there I knew,

I met last year, and that was you.

The bank was old, Victorian style,

Deep breath again, it took a while,

Before I turned the steel door