Those who suggested, with gentle persistence, that I do this blog perhaps thought that I would write about daily life or celebrities or what Nabokov called the current highly irritating world situation. Alas, instead there is this outpouring of concentrated thought and feeling.
The best way to navigate your way around here is to decide what you like best from the category titles at the right of the page … and thus click on Poems or Travels or Reviews of minds and authors etc. This way, with Poems you will avoid the shallow critical prose of self-importance and current affairs. Likewise, with Reviews you will be able to chew on opinion and argument, which is always good for the teeth.
I have placed here only a sprinkling of my unpublished poems. Readers whose interest is not satisfied may easily discover my two books of poetry, Trespasses and The Deer Of Tamniès. Other poems dated between 2002 and 2006 may be visited at http://www.poemhunter.com/martin-turner/. A recent issue of the excellent has generously allotted me seven pages.
What I haven’t done is to include my professional writing here (I am a child psychologist). There is thirty years of that, all readily available elsewhere, and I deserve a break. Life seems to happen incidentally and in the meantime, growing in the crevices like the lace of Alpine waterfalls (Hilton Park Rank services, Waterloo station).
To my amazement, this blog has already attracted over 3000 visitors. They come and go like space travellers alighting on a small, unknown planet, seldom leaving even a footprint. I have been reconnected with old, lost friends, have received information about a missing bassoonist, and been approached by someone writing a biography of one of my mother’s friends. One poem on another site has been viewed an astounding 1378 times ― frequently attracting favourably ratings and comments. Such is the power of the internet.
These are the static moments of a moving life, a traveller’s testimony. Love is the perception of individuals, said Iris Murdoch, and I hope I cast a loving eye on the diamond with uncountable facets that is life.
 See: Iris Murdoch, The sublime and the good. Essay in the Chicago Review, Autumn 1959; reprinted in Murdoch, I., ed. Conradi, P. Existentialists And Mystics: Writings On Philosophy And Literature. London: Chatto and Windus, 1997, pp. 215-216.