From Vectis Voices  . . . 

The dank smell of musty and dampening mildewed plaster invades every audible heartbeat as I creep, stepping in time to my wildest nightmares and worst imaginings.

The indigo light beyond is my goal as I tremulously inch toward the small garret window that will open and lead me out and up on to the roof.

The roof, where the gables, turrets and colossal ornate chimney stacks are my guardians, where the sweet dark sky and icy stars await, accompanied by soft drifting glistening rain.

How I long to embrace the fresh tingle of joyous midnight air. To see and hear the lights and clatter of the shipyard nightshift at the river’s edge. Glimpse the dancing Solent, lit by the far distant mainland factory flame at Fawley, flickering merrily like a Christmas candle, reminders of the real world. A safe world, where no bogeyman could exist and boys will live to fight another day.  . . . 

​

All rights reserved, copyright © Gus Jonsson, 2020

​

From Vectis Days  . . . 

​

‘Tell you what,’ announced Sherf, ‘what about if Gus and Mike go over to the castle and go up to the top of the tower and wave a flag and we’ll fire the cannon at you when we see it.’

An explosion of spluttering expletives followed from both me and Mike as we protested.

‘If we don’t fall off and break our bloody necks!’ I opined. ‘That old tower’s falling to bits, it’s really bloody dangerous.’

‘Not only that!’ shouted Mike, pointing a shaking finger at the cannon.

‘Yeah, Mike’s right,’ I eagerly agreed. ‘What about that bloody thing? It could kill us!’

‘Nah! You daft buggers. Once you’re up there and wave the flag and we see you, me and Phil will wave our flag back.’

‘Then after we wave our flag,’ said Phil, ‘we’ll count to five and I’ll light the fuse.’

‘So, have you two got that?’ said Sherf. ‘We will wave back at you and then after a count of five you duck down behind the battlements and we will fire the cannon.’

‘Once you’ve both ducked down,’ whispered Phil, smiling mischievously and laughing, ‘you had better count to five again. Just in case.’  . . . 

​

All rights reserved, copyright © Gus Jonsson, 2021

​

“Gus Jonsson’s account of growing up in unorthodox family circumstances in post war Cowes on the Isle of Wight features events that today would excite the alarm of any passing social worker. With a mother suffering from mental illness, an absentee father and a rich cast of eccentric characters, Vectis Voices has all the ingredients for a Victorian melodrama, but if you want an account of an angst-ridden boyhood, this is not quite it.

Stimulated by a trove of photographs, yellowing postcards and other ageing memorabilia, Jonsson creates a mosaic of events embedded in place and time, captured with the economy of an impressionist, a symbolist. Piece by piece, an intriguingly unusual childhood is revealed without undue explanation or exposition, as each page bleeds a wry and dry humour rather than anguish and hurt. Little breast-beating or self-pity here; the young hero simultaneously suffers and takes everything in his stride. His voice is clear, his story unique, yet speaking to a common heritage of provincial post-war austerity.”

— Dave Morgan, co-founder Write Out Loud