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Richard on February 23rd, 2013

Ronald Blythe is used to the snow and the mud of the highlands   OLD friends in an old bedroom, having an old conversation. Thin snow outside. It is St Valentine’s Day, and the Pope is resigning. Fancy that. But why not? we say, knowing nothing about it. How weary he looks. Weariness is something we […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 22 February 2013

Richard on February 15th, 2013

Ronald Blythe goes back in time while reading a poem   ASH Wednesday, with rooks being blown about the sky any old how. The sky itself is dove-grey, with blotches of gold. So I read Joel, and should weep between the porch and the altar. As a compromise, I read the whole of George Herbert’s The Church-porch, something […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 15 February 2013

Richard on February 9th, 2013

Ronald Blythe has a meeting with a fellow archaeologist   THE young archaeologist comes from ultima Norfolk to take my photograph. I put on my best jersey, make coffee, and he shoots me from every direction. The morning is amazing. First, golden clouds, then, May sunshine. An immense tree-touching plane trundles over, but with little noise. […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 8 February 2013

Richard on February 9th, 2013

Ronald Blythe‘s floor has not revealed the secrets expected   KEITH has painted the ancient room, and Peter has relayed its topsy-turvy brick floor. The latter has not been done since c.1750. Each of them works unhurriedly. I watch them with awe. How is it done, this getting everything in perfect line? Peter’s notion of bliss […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 1 February 2013