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Richard on September 19th, 2014

As in his youth, Ronald Blythe is thrilled by seeing the sea   “THE sea! The sea!” we shouted when the land ran ran out and the blue wall of water rose ahead. At Aldeburgh, the church-builders framed it in Gothic stone. Even today, when everyone goes everywhere, this sudden proclamation by the sea itself of its […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 19 September 2014

Richard on September 12th, 2014

Ronald Blythe reflects on the pleasure of being caught in the rain   SUMMER rain – warm, drenching. It catches me up before I can get to the house, a familiar sensation since boyhood, briefly a plight, then a pleasure. The rain it raineth every day, but only a little. Not like today, when it […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 12 September 2014

Richard on September 5th, 2014

“I think I’ll go for a walk.” When do we hear that most? When we feel the need for exercise, or when we need a good think? Or after an argument?! There seems to be something in the human mind or body which encourages us to walk – to “blow away the cobwebs” that accumulate […]

Continue reading about John’s Journal – September 2014

Richard on September 5th, 2014

Ronald Blythe gives thanks for the summers he has enjoyed during his life THE peerless August goes its way: day after day of sunshine, the garden heavy with scents, the churches, too. St Paul tells us “not to murmur”; the News tells us ghastly things. In his Diary, Francis Kilvert tells me what he did […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 5 September 2014

Richard on September 5th, 2014

Ronald Blythe walks through blackberry-blossomed churchyards “AUGUST for the people!” cried the democratic Auden. August for staying at home, I say. Once it was August for Cornwall, those north headlands void of visitors which ranged on and on to Devon. A friend awakened these westward longings when a week in Totnes made her restless for […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 29 August 2014

Richard on September 5th, 2014

Ronald Blythe takes in his late-summer garden, leaning on a new stick ELEGIAC days. I have been given an ash-plant walking stick that John Masefield cut from a hedge on the Western Front. He was a medical orderly. I lean on it in the peaceful August garden. The poplars sing in hushed voices. It has […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 22 August 2014

Richard on September 5th, 2014

Ronald Blythe returns from matins to find three poets in his garden HAVING preached on St Mary Magdalene at matins, I returned home to find three Persian poets in the garden. Having told my young neighbours that I once lived near Boulge, the Suffolk village where Edward FitzGerald translated The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, they had […]

Continue reading about Word from Wormingford – 15 August 2014