Tag: friendship


Sep
2022

thing 50: ‘My soul is sunk’:* St Cuthbert’s Way, part (iii)

Categories: nature, pilgrimage, poetry, reflection, travel, walking
Is a Kitkat a chocolate bar or a biscuit? This might not seem an important distinction but when you’re 7 miles in and the “chocolate bar” promised in the hotel packed lunch turns out to be a Kitkat, you can feel cruelly misled. These things matter, is all I’m saying.

Breakfast had been rather good, you see. I had Eggs Florentine and coffee, served in a grand salon with huge mirror panels with fancy glass lights on them and the kind of embossed, gold, fol-de-rol wallpaper which only makes sense in big public spaces like this. Jenny and I were tucked (more…)


Sep
2020

thing 49 and a quarter: ‘for the poet, what behaviour is meet?’: shades of blue

Categories: grief, news, poetry, reflection

A tree falling in a forest. A book launched during a pandemic. Does either of them make any sound?

As far as I can tell, if answer there be to this question, it’s “yes and no”. There is the basic excitation of the surrounding medium/particles which, if there are receptors, would be translated into sound. But in the absence of receptors, there is no such translation. Ergo, yes and no. Aaargh. I remember now how much philosophy has always really pissed me off. I just don’t have the right kind of brain or temperament for it. As Frank or Pat Butcher might (more…)


Nov
2019

thing 43: ‘yourself/my own dog’: the Song of the Silent Child

Categories: music, reflection, singing
Are you sitting comfortably? Then we’ll begin.

“In a time then and now/In a place far and near/In a world of which old stories tell/A land cradled in light―/Sun by day, moon by night―/Is held safe under summer’s sweet spell”. This is Summerland, where The Song of the Silent Child is set. The eponymous Silent Child is despised in this land of perpetual happiness, and it isn’t until she meets Old Mother Love, the Crone/wise woman who is dying, that the Child learns who she is: “’You go by (more…)


Oct
2019

thing 40: ‘what will survive of us is love’: St Hilda’s way, part (iv)

Categories: celebrating the everyday, grief, mindfulness, nature, pilgrimage, reflection, travel, walking
This would be a fine place to spend eternity.

From the lichened drystone wall where I sat the land rolled away to the horizon, a series of gradual grassy undulations punctuated with clumps of shrubs and trees. In the distance the peat browns and heather purples of the moor spread their muted patchwork; within the tiny churchyard itself, oaks, ashes and other trees were stretching (more…)