Your thing 26 parcel is currently in preparation and will be dispatched from the what the afternoon knows warehouse very soon. In the meantime, some news of an upcoming thing.
When I was on the course at Charney (see thing 17) a conversation with Paul, one of the facilitators, led to an invitation to come on the radio show he hosts, Calon on Books, on community radio in Wrexham. This definitely sounded like a thing! Not as terrifying as an abseil, or not in the same way, though I will have to watch my language as the show is live. It’ll be on at 6 on Wednesday 24th October, and you are warmly invited to listen in on the interweb, if you’d like to. Just go to calonfm.com at the appointed hour, and click the magic livestream link. Afterwards the show will appear on the site’s listen again menu, and Paul tells me there’ll be a soundfile I’ll be able to put up here in due course.
So, get the bourbons in; or possibly, given the hour of the broadcast, a sherry. I’d better save mine till after the show.
You can read this poem here.
This is one of those poems I read and simply think, ‘Yes’. The simplicity of the rhyme-scheme and the regularity of the metre feel part of the irrefutability of what the poem has to say. It seems very Housman that he’s feeling such a drive to make the most of his time at the not-very-old-really age of twenty! I started mentally re-writing stanza two to say ‘Now of my threescore years and ten/Fifty will not come again’ and then realised it was all going to go wrong at the end of life three, so abandoned that… But however premature his worry may seem, about running out of time, his point stands: that spring is a time when we may connect with the joy of renewal, the beauty of the world, and the anguish of our own fleetingness. I think Housman has it right, though. The only thing to do, in the end, is make the most of what you get. About the woodlands let us go…
‘Think it possible that you may be mistaken’. This is the final sentence of number 17 of the Quaker Advices and queries (a key text in Quakerism). Is there anyone, anywhere, any time (pass the Martini!) who couldn’t benefit from sitting with that idea for a while?
Here I was, arriving from Oxford at Didcot Parkway on the way to a Quaker Enquirers’ course at the splendidly-named Charney Manor. I was emotionally exhausted after the morning’s encounter with lost youth, and physically exhausted after having a run (flatter than Kendal, but muddier also), wandering round town for miles, and lugging a large backpack whose hipbelt, I discovered too late, was no longer operational. And friends, there’s a lot of train stuff at Didcot Parkway. I mean, a LOT. What with that, and (more…)
What are words worth? is a monthly group I facilitate on behalf of the Wordsworth Trust. It’s been going for about 18 months now.
It’s a shared reading group, which takes place on the first Wednesday or first Thursday of the month, alternately. We meet in a cafe and enjoy poetry together. Each month we have a topic, and we bring whatever comes to mind in relation to that topic. We’re a various, warm and friendly bunch who enjoy sharing our love of poetry, our memories, feelings, musings and life-experiences. There’s no pressure to read, to talk, or do anything but be there. But you’ll probably find yourself drawn in…
Among other things so far we’ve looked at colours, weather, beginnings, creatures, mountains, nature, conflict, pictures and images, local poetry, water… We choose the topics together, and there’s never quite enough time to share all the treasures we find.
We meet upstairs at Finkle’s Cafe on Finkle Street in Kendal, from 11-12.30. The dates in our diary for the next few months ahead are: 3rd October, 1st November, 5th December, 10th January, 6th February and 7th March. If you’d like to ask about it, feel free to email me. Or just turn up. You’ll be very welcome.
You can read this poem here.
Last year, while doing the prep. for a session I was running, I had most of the books off the poetry shelves, looking for texts about friendship that weren’t of the saccharine, emetic, vacuous or Inspirational Verse breeds. I wanted a poem that said something about what friendship is about, how it “works”, rather than merely saying what a Good Thing it is. The celebration of friendship in verse seems to be far rarer, though, than the celebration of romantic love. But I did eventually find a few poems I really liked, which I added to this quiet treasure by Jennings. It was a thought-provoking exercise to go through.
Friendship is, most of the time, both undramatic and glorious. It’s essential without (very often!) causing the pulse to race. I think this poem has the same quality of quiet wondrousness which it celebrates in its subject. It’s written in simple rhyming couplets which are neat without being clangingly predictable. Its rhythm is measured and regular without being stodgy, and is lifted by its judicious use of enjambement. Its vocabulary is unfussy but careful, naming clearly the simple but precious qualities it celebrates—’gentleness… understanding… trust… respect… awe’.
I find the use of the word ‘awe’ really interesting. It makes me think of how friendship—like any of the loves—can remind us, every so often, of the utter other-ness of the other party. This is a real person, distinct from us and with their own set of likes and dislikes, habits and experiences and quirks… and yet they choose to share time with us, to give us the precious gift of themselves. That is indeed awesome—in the Bill-and-Ted sense of great, but also in the proper sense of amazing, wonderful, breathtaking.