#simon kane

“Now, at roughly midday today, we’ll be passing close by the island of Anthemusa, so with a little bit of luck we should be able to see some sirens today. Please enjoy the amazing sight of these human-headed birds or, um, bird-bodied humans. But a word of caution: They will be singing songs designed to lure you to your death.”

My Uncle Newt, that prince of men

Lived out his threescore years and ten

And then another score besides

And then nine more

And then he died.

A shame to miss his century?

No, I can hear his little cough.

Ninety-nine's all very well

One hundred would be showing off.

A slippery fish, was Uncle Newt,

Though newts and fish are not the same!

And uncle is not strictly true

And Newt of course was not his name.

His real name I never knew,

And come to that I still don't know.

Though living with him through the war

I found out it began with O.

For on brown envelopes I read

In formal letters, stiff and blank,

O. Nightingale. Oh, what a name!

A cry of Keats from Barclays bank!

And what a man! He took me in

A scared and lonely boy of four

And promptly set me writing rhymes

He promised me would win the war.

He paid a ha'penny per verse

On strict condition that they scanned.

Such kindly busy work to give.

He little knew what he began.

Teacher. Storyteller. Friend.

Kindly. Wise. Absurd. Astute.

Well, since you ask me for a toast...

*WELL*

Since you asked me for a tale of how I met John Finnemore & Margaret Cabourn-Smith & Simon Kane I believe I have something that you might find interesting.

I arrived at London about 40 mins before the play so I decided to take a walk from Victoria Station to Earl's Court.

That was a mistake.

Turns out the distance between those two stations is... Well, Might have slightly OVERestimated how *fine* it would be to walk there.

And then it all started- it was just like in a film- me running across the town, heart on my sleeve, asking people directions; at some point I considered bursting out in tears but since it would only slow me down, I didn't.

Although the thought of not making it was ringing in my head I didn't throw in the tunnel- I've loved those people for far too long to stop now!

Finally, I managed to get into the underground station which was not closed due to works carried out and soon thanks to absolutely Terrific staff working there I was at London Wonderground at Earl's Court!

Kind of.

I did arrive there, yes, but it was the backyard of the place the play was being held.

Exhausted, fire in my lungs I started running like a woman who had nothing left to lose ( I was a woman who had nothing left to lose after all!).

After what felt like eternity I approached the ticket office.

And then it all went WRONG AGAIN.

They didn't accept cash payments(card only). I tried to book a ticket at home but the site stopped working(coincidence?I DON'T THINK SO). As a last resort, I took my credit card- I wouldn't want to pay extra fee as the currency wasn't exchanged but sometimes things are just that important.

And the my payment was declined.

Not knowing why, I slowly started running out of ideas. I came all this way from Poland, Brighton only to be stopped at the ticket office?

But then one of the workers printed out a ticket and gave it to me whilst smiling.

"Those things do happen, enjoy your evening!" He explained.

I was... Completely in shock...

My face must have been priceless at the time.

Truly touched, I thanked him several times, grabbed my ticket (God bless this man) and ran(I should participate in a marathon, now to think of it) to...

...a WRONG TENT.

Thankfully, one of the staff members offered to give me a hand and show me the way to "Criminals". Worry in his eyes he asked whether I was alright.

"Yeah, you know" articulated I between one painful breath and the other " I just came all the way from Poland to be here, basic stuff, you know".

"You've come straight from the airport then?" He gasped, astonishment painted all over his face.

"Brighton, to be precise!"

Witnessing my devotion he was truly touched.

He led me to the other lady which showed me the way to the tent where the play had been already being performed.

She asked -exhausted-weary-looking me if I was alright.

"Yeah, basically fine, I just came all this way from Poland" repeated I.

"Did you, really?!" (Good God, I need to stop being that devoted otherwise I give people heart attack).

She took my ticket and wished me a lovely evening.

I arrived there late, exhausted, anxious, shy, hopeful... And whilst going up the stairs I heard HIS VOICE.

He hasn't changed from the moment I heard him for the first time on the Radio.

It was just like a melody I followed.

I knew I was home.

He was standing there- alongside Margaret Cabourn-Smith and the rest of the cast- smiling like his smile was too big for the atmosphere.

For the next 15-20 mins I simply couldn't believe my own eyes.

He was just what I knew from the other Radio plays he was.

I took a seat which was luckily free...

It felt like home.

Although it was 3 days ago I still find it hard to believe.

The play was absolutely terrific, Margaret was brilliant and John Finnemore... was finntastic!

Unfortunately, we weren't allowed to ask questions or take any pictures due to many reasons but that was not a problem at all.

A bit later on I spotted SIMON KANE in the crowd- he was with his friends so I didn't want to interrupt ( I WAS SO SHOCKED I COULDN'T MOVE too!).

But to sum up all of this, I don't remember being more fulfilled in those 22 years than I was that week(and this Sunday evening).

Sightseeing, the language, absolutely lovely people, vintage shops (not gonna lie!), the views, the weather, all those dreams...

Now I'm sure I'll move to UK one day- my heart was designed that way.

❤️