When I was at my Teachers’ Training College in London in the early 1970s, I came across Stevie Smith’s poem: ‘Not Waving but Drowning’ and the impact was immediate.

Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.

Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.

Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.

Now, four decades later, I still admire the poem but choose to play with the word order in the title: ‘Waving Not Drowning’ (2017) to affirm all those clients who trusted me on their journeys and who realised they were waving not drowning.