Tony Weston

Tony Weston has published four volumes of verse and, since retiring to Dorset, has written nearly a poem a day, which he posts in his street-fronting window, to surprisingly favourable comment.

He now finds himself stowed-away on the submarine of prose which has been circling the dark seas of his brain for years. Stories are tumbling out of their bunks for everyone from seven year’s old upwards. This new title BUCKET seems to fit those from twelve years up.

After many years of making and selling his pots from a market stall in the middle of Cambridge, he has salvaged a strange crew of characters—who have more or less comandeered his keyboard to explore quirky narratives taking them into situations and places over which Tony has remarkably little control. One stupid act, or accident, leads to another as these self-willed protagonists interweave their lives. They love and hate, loathe or like each other as they try to find out who they are and what they are for. Some change, some remain stubbornly the same.

Tony’s enjoying the ride they take him on. Come along, why don’t you?