Moved by his plight, I had it in mind to write a poem of solidarity and post it through his letter box but I became distracted by the sight of The Guardian Bumper Christmas Cryptic Crossword. It had been waiting patiently in the corner of the sitting room for some attention since New Year’s Eve. Three hours later and I filled in the answer to 15 down, having first looked up its meaning in the dictionary:

VELLEITY (noun): volition in its lowest form; a wish or inclination not strong enough to lead to action.

Saturday January 20th

Penguin Awareness

I’ve been aware of penguins since I was three:

I think one may have moved in with me.

The signs are everywhere.

The smell of saltwater in the air.

There are moulted feathers on my chair

Yesterday I found a fish upon the stair.

But when I turn around there’s no one there,

for he moves in the shadows, like Tony Soprano;

I am forever stepping in guano.

I don’t know why he’s come to live with me.

There are better places for him to be.

But when I’ve gone to bed, I can hear the tread

of his soft heels across the kitchen floor,

and the opening of the freezer door.

And I picture him there,

his head resting on a frozen shelf,

dreaming sadly of somewhere else,

thinking about the hand that life has dealt him,

and I wonder if his heart is melting.

Sophie reminded me not to be late in dropping Dylan back tonight as Stuart was taking them both to some film premiere or other, and she’d really appreciate it if I could be on time for once. I replied that of course I would, before reminding her that she still had my vinyl copy of Pet Sounds and I’d really appreciate it if she could have it ready for me to collect from her later.

She handed it over to me wordlessly when I dropped Dylan back. Slouching home, I’d been all set to spend the evening with an old episode of Miss Marple but made the error of taking a quick look at Twitter. Penguin Awareness Day was being celebrated. I had previously been unaware of this. I posted up a poem to commemorate the occasion, drawing down deep into my well of imaginative powers to conjure up feelings of what it must be like to feel lonely and displaced.

Sunday January 21st

The RPSCA have contacted me again on Twitter to tell me they’re deeply concerned that a penguin – or indeed any aquatic, flightless bird – is being kept in a household environment. They believe its needs would become too difficult to meet in a human’s domestic dwelling and that it may become depressed. They are threatening to send an inspector out.

Monday January 22nd

National Poet Helpline

Do YOU ever talk

of nightingales?

Or whisper

immortal intimations?

Chat about melancholy?

Or Grecian urns?