It’s May Day!
Activism / Christianity / Communism / folk / music / my songs / Personal / Politics / Religion / songwriting

It’s May Day!


♠ Padstow May Day, filmed by Pathe in 1932 On this day in 1983 I was baptised and confirmed into the Anglican Communion. My friend, Sydney Carter was there. I witnessed to the congregation how my life as a Communist had found its consummation in the comradeship of Jesus, that great revolutionary. That same evening, … Continue reading

From Monday, May 4, for 5 days only . . .
arts / Books / Christianity / eBooks / folk / music / Religion / rock / Witnesses to Glory

From Monday, May 4, for 5 days only . . .


. . . all my Kindle books are FREE! PS: Ignore the prices in the images below. That’s what they’ll cost after this free promotion ends on May 8 ♥ Go to Amazon UK to download any of these free ebooks (also downloadable from other national Amazon systems). ♥ Here’s a reminder: This promotion ends on May … Continue reading

Why I won’t be broadcasting until after May 7
Activism / arts / Christianity / Church / Classical Hour / Jesus / Movietime / Politics / Radio / Swing Easy

Why I won’t be broadcasting until after May 7


A personal statement from Karl Dallas In 1982 I was kicked off my British Forces radio programme because of my opposition to the Falklands War. Oh, that wasn’t the official reason. The establishment doesn’t work like that. The mandarins at the BFBS just said they weren’t renewing the contract for my monthly jazz show. But privately, … Continue reading

Candlemas – a poem, two chapters from Witnesses to Glory, and a Candlemas Carol
Christianity / Church

Candlemas – a poem, two chapters from Witnesses to Glory, and a Candlemas Carol


I lifted my eyes to the altar and it seemed as if my life was now complete, that here was the reason for the denial of my prayers for death, that the long tick-tock years had led to this point, when a child’s blood would seal the promise that had made it possible for me to carry on, when faith stretched thin and almost to breaking.
. . .
I looked in his eyes, so wise, serene as his mother’s, and it was like a reassurance, that this too would pass, and no cup was so deep it couldn’t be emptied, especially when these lips did the drinking, taking the poison from out of our world, returning us to that moment before the sin that drove us out of paradise.

I spoke it out, though words are inadequate for what I saw was about to happen in this child’s life, and how it would change us all. But weak as words are, they had to be said. Continue reading