My great aunt Sally died on Tuesday night of Covid, 8 days after testing positive in her care home. She wanted to be a poet. She wasn’t really educated, she never had a tutor, an editor or a publisher. But she self-published a pamphlet. I’d love you to read my favourites.

She wrote about life, and the camps, and sleep, but these are the ones I love: a quirkier inner life than she ever let on. We lit last night’s candles for her.

I’m really overwhelmed by your words about these beautiful poems and you’re all right, it wasn’t that she wanted to be a poet, it’s that she was one. Thank you.

Her name was Sally Heilbut.

The response to these has been overwhelming. I wish I had thought to share them sooner but I’m glad they’re being read now. If you have enjoyed Sally’s words I’d be honoured if you’d donate to a charity she cared for. https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/sallyheilbutpoet Thank you.

Here we go (with apologies to the publisher for getting my facts wrong) https://twitter.com/LesBillBell/status/1339856940013408256

I’m going to mute the replies to this now. If you want me to see your message please @ me separately.