William P Thomson

One Who Would a Writer Be.

Archive for the month “June, 2019”

Two for the price of one!

Saturday, 15 June, 2019. PT’s own blog site

Hello Good People

re: The above dateline: it’s designed to make the distinction between my own little blog site and my AUSTIN MACAULEY (AM) ‘INSANITUS’ blog site.

AM have forwarded some of my early postings on my blog site onto the new (AM) ‘INSANITUS’ blog site, and will continue to “double up on mine until I get the hang of things (my being all but IT illiterate!).

Also, AM have agreed with my idea to open up a two-way communication, allowing YOU to reply as and when to my blog scribbles. To any who may be of the abusive bent, forget it. At 76, I’ve been there, seen it and had it. I simply ignore it. If I have a number of replies dealing with a particular aspect, I’ll do one all-embracing posting to cover them.

Right, you can email me at:


That’s it. Let communication begin!


( W PT is my abbreviated pen-name; as in William P Thomson)

That OK, bosses? Hey, that’s you, Thomas, and you, Lotte!!

Result! – Website promotion

From: AM Marketing [mailto:marketing@austinmacauley.com]
Sent: Friday, June 7, 2019 5:38 PM
To: fox.pro@btinternet.com
Subject: Result! – Website promotion


I pitched Insanitus for a website promotion titled: The 17 Books 25 Year Old Males Can Get Value From Reading

Your book made it onto the list! Please feel free to share the link far and wide.


I’ll send my review soon 😊

Have a great weekend!

Kind regards,

Janine Hornsby MA MBA

Marketing Manager

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd ®

CGC-33-01, 25 Canada Square, Canary Wharf, London E14 5LQ

+44 (0) 207 038 8212 or +44 (0) 203 515 0352



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Hello Good People

Below is something I wrote some months ago, under the heading ‘EPILOGUE’. Well, as this week ends, so has my six years or so of putting my writings of the last 50 or so years to some sort of order, including getting a few published as books. They do say ‘Never say never’, but perhaps, on this occasion, prefaced with a ‘probably’.



I cannot help but feel my pretensions, in the guise of modest ambition, far exceed my abilities. To give fuel and succour to my endeavours, I fell into continual, habitual dreams in the light of day, wherein I stormed the citadels of the sciences, the arts and sport. I was king in all these spheres and more. In this way I gave also, not realised by others, a shield of protection to my perceived inadequate being. I was a closet Walter Mitty.

Still, in this most private, harmless act, I gave nourishment, took a step back from life’s day-to-day realities and sowed the seeds of fantasy, from which grew the stories I reaped down the years.

But, that fertile field from which the fantasies sprung, has fallen barren now, where even the dreams of the days, from an over imaginative mind, fast evaporate. Senior years, deaths, illnesses and life’s jagged edges have given me possession of an adult view, made this man-child become but a man of senior years, bound for the approaching long goodnight.

Now gone are the tales to tell, the fantasies to indulge.

Yet still, the sights and sounds about me fade. I sense I am without body. Only memories remain, and they also fast fade.

It is over. I am but a passing soul, a mere memory to those that knew me.

I am no more. For me, the final act complete: closure.


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