A few scenarios
England is the garden of the world. One can simply stand and stare, like the famous poet and not do very much, just be and feel the beauty. There is enough ugliness in this world, very real, one has to fight it, but doing so, one needs the encouragement of gardens and rivers and friends.
Walks along the River, sinuously winding their way, the clear water looking so inviting with river-grass wafting its tentacles over pebbles and under bridges. We met some River Wardens, cutting the grass with scythes, dressed in long trouser boots. They had this wonderful Hampshire burr and I recorded a bit of it as one of them explained what he was doing.
There are the Cathedrals, the Steep Hill of Lincoln, I visited this time, staying in a lovely B&B, overlooking the Cathedral. Lit up at night like a honeycomb, bells ringing the hours, seen against thunder clouds, and in the early pink of dawn. Even the flying buttresses, hidden in the shadows, came into their own after dusk.
The people one meets, kind friends of friends, both young and old. Two old ladies deserve a special mention, Doris and Margaret. Best of friends at a Retirement Home, 92 and 102. Whats ten years difference? Both alert and lively, writing and reading poetry, painting, embroidering. Do listen to Margaret reading part of one of hers, about The Elf, on Vimeo.
Also Doris, reading one of her sons, Andrews poems bout the same Elf.
And another one, in Yorkshire accent, no less! Jubilee.
The Gold goes to England.
Walks along the River, sinuously winding their way, the clear water looking so inviting with river-grass wafting its tentacles over pebbles and under bridges. We met some River Wardens, cutting the grass with scythes, dressed in long trouser boots. They had this wonderful Hampshire burr and I recorded a bit of it as one of them explained what he was doing.
There are the Cathedrals, the Steep Hill of Lincoln, I visited this time, staying in a lovely B&B, overlooking the Cathedral. Lit up at night like a honeycomb, bells ringing the hours, seen against thunder clouds, and in the early pink of dawn. Even the flying buttresses, hidden in the shadows, came into their own after dusk.
The people one meets, kind friends of friends, both young and old. Two old ladies deserve a special mention, Doris and Margaret. Best of friends at a Retirement Home, 92 and 102. Whats ten years difference? Both alert and lively, writing and reading poetry, painting, embroidering. Do listen to Margaret reading part of one of hers, about The Elf, on Vimeo.
Also Doris, reading one of her sons, Andrews poems bout the same Elf.
And another one, in Yorkshire accent, no less! Jubilee.
The Gold goes to England.