The other day the post exploded through the letter box and amongst the letters, I found a very crumpled envelope with my hand writing on it. This used to be the signal that I had a rejections slip in my hand yet I haven’t sent work out snail mail for years due to financial constraints and preferring to publish on the internet .

However when I opened it, it was indeed a rejection slip from a rather well respected journal. ‘Sorry for the delay’ some anonymous person had written possibly the editor , who knows?.  The delay I worked from the poems which were very early efforts, must be about 4 years.

Where was it living all this time?  under a pile in Dickens’ ‘Circumlucation Office’? And how did the editor find it, a sort of lucky dip perhaps, and my work turned up.