User:Peter J. King

I was born in Boston, Lincolnshire (actually in Wyberton West Hospital, which no longer exists), educated (if that's the word) first at St Mary's Primary School (run by nuns at the time), then at Boston Grammar School. When I left school at eighteen I headed for London, with the firm expectation of a career on the stage. A year in which I got to know students from a number of drama schools told me that I couldn't spend three years in such company; meanwhile my interest in writing poetry became more intense. I began performing regularly, especially at the Troubadour in Earls Court, and grew increasingly confident about my work.

I became involved with the National Poetry Society, then based in Earls Court, helping with the magazine and with various events, and in 1976 I published my first slim volume (A Secret Tear). This was followed by Deja Vu and insofaras. My income was supplemented by readings, work in schools, and some broadcasting (Capital Radio). I also organised the occasional Poetry (sometimes with jazz) Festival, and ran workshops (at the Centre in Trafalgar Square and at the Riverside Studios). I started my own small press (tapocketa press), and then collaborated with Alaric Sumner on a magazine (words worth). (For some of my poetry, including some of my later translations – with Andrea Christofidou – of modern Greek poetry, see here.

All this came to an abrupt halt for various reasons, and I took a dull and ordinary job — temporarily, until I got my poetry activities together again. Three years later I was still in that temporary job, and I suddenly realised that I was in danger of running myself into very deep rut. My way out (though I had positive reasons for taking it as well as the negative reasons) was to do a degree.

In 1980 I went to Middlesex Polytechnic (now Middlesex University), where I read Humanities (though after the first year I did little but Philosophy, and some computing). I'd been interested in Philosophy for about a year, but the course deepened and strengthened that interest. I had some excellent teachers, the options were varied, and the course was flexible.

My tutors convinced me that if I wanted to continue with philosophy I had to apply to the University of Oxford to read for the B.Phil. Somewhat reluctantly I applied, and somewhat astonishingly I was accepted. So in 1983 I left Middlesex Poly for the dreaming spires.

My College was Brasenose. After matriculating in 1983, I spent much of the next few years under (rather than in) the College library, in the Hulme Common Room. In Oxford I began to get involved with music in a fairly big way, playing in a band called originally Captain Swing, but then (after Michelle Shocked unforgivably stole our name for one of her tours) Akouste! We played a wide variety of music, mainly traditional from many countries (the British Isles, France, Galicia, Greece, Cyprus, China, Japan, etc.), but also South African kwela, the blues, some renaissance, and some of my compositions. We played in pubs (for three years we played every week at the Bullingdon Arms in Cowley Road), for functions such as weddings, balls, fund-raising events (especially for Education for Democracy in South Africa), and for a while we had a regular slot at the Oxford Museum of Modern Art. In addition I played for a while with the Oxford (Javanese) Gamelan.

After various ups and downs I finished up with the B.Phil. and the D.Phil., and was faced with the unnerving prospect of losing my long-term identity as a student.

I'm currently Lecturer in Philosophy at Pembroke College, Oxford, and I teach on a casual basis for many of the Oxford Colleges, as well as for the University of Georgia's Oxford Programme. Apart from professional papers, more popular articles, and reviews, my first book is One Hundred Philosopher (2004: U.S. — Barron's; U.K. — Apple Press; Australia — ABC Books), which has been translated into some forteen or fifteen languages.

See also my curriculum vitae.

My Web page (in need of up-dating) is here.

Articles started

• Confessions (Augustine)
• Manichaeism