Author: Andrew Green
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Clearing out
I’ve been clearing out. Clearing cupboards in the front room, full of books, files, magazines, papers, photos, games, maps and other detritus. Many of them have been there since the cupboards and the bookshelves above them were built some thirty years ago. There’s nothing special about such a task, especially for one trained as a…
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The poet and the mapmaker
As the Russian government continues its murderous and destructive war on Ukraine, it seems a good time to turn to a voice for peace. Here’s a poem from the time of what is still called, mistakenly, the English Civil War, by an obscure poet from Norfolk, Ralph Knevet. Entitled ‘The vote’, it is a simple…
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Mysteries of Paraclete
Five minutes’ walk away, where Summerland Lane reduces to a narrow neck of tarmac to meet Newton Road, is Paraclete Chapel. In every respect it’s unremarkable, except for one thing, its highly unusual name. Till recently I’ve not thought much about the word ‘paraclete’, beyond knowing that it was vaguely connected with the Holy Spirit.…
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The bookseller of Stromness
Hanging on a wall in the public library in Stromness, where you can sit in an easy chair and enjoy a view of the waterfront through the picture window, is an oil painting called The bookseller of Stromness. It was painted in 2005 by a self-taught artist from Stornaway, Calum Morrison, who had long settled…
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Heirloom
It’s made out of a single piece of oak and sits upright on the window sill, though its planed rear and central hole suggest it was originally intended to hang on a wall. The head of an adult man or a woman. The face framed by stylised hair locks, long, straight and deeply incised, and…
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Tlodi, nawr a ddoe
Beth yw tlodi? Am flynyddoedd bellach fe’i diffinnir yn y wlad hon fel ‘tlodi cymharol’. Hynny yw, dych chi’n dlawd os ydych chi’n derbyn incwm sy’n 60% yn is nag incwm cyfartal pobl eich cymuned. Dyw hi ddim yn syndod clywed fod tlodi o’r math hwn yn cynyddu ers blynyddoedd, wrth i anghyfartaledd godi, a…
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Conscience wakes?
Of the many analogies used to make sense of Boris Johnson’s inglorious reign, the circus is probably the commonest. No ordinary circus, of course, but one where witless acrobats fall headlong from their tightropes, lions run amok and maul defenceless children, the ringmaster sulks in his tent, surrounded by cans of lager and lines of…
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Mr Bebb’s dislike of the motor car
Not many people these days have heard of Ambrose Bebb. Maybe some Welsh speakers, especially following Robin Chapman’s 1997 biography, but very few others. His son Dewi Bebb, the rugby player, and his grandson Guto Bebb, the former MP, are probably much better known. In the interwar period, though, Ambrose Bebb was known for his…
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Lost
Evening runs aren’t really my thing these days. Almost always I go out early in the morning. But today’s different. For one thing, this is my first run for several weeks, since aggravating an old Achilles tendon injury. So my route, as well as my timing, is unorthodox: short and slow; no cliffs, no hills.…
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Trais yn y pentra
Yn gynnar yn Afal drwg Adda, hunangofiant Caradog Prichard, daw brawddeg sy’n codi ael y darllenydd: Hyd yma [canfod ei fam yn mynd yn ffwndrus] yr oeddwn yn eofn a hunan hyderus, yn ymladdwr ffyrnig ac wedi ennill enw fel tipyn o fwli yn yr ysgol ac ymhlith hogiau’r ardal. Yn ôl pob sôn, cymeriad…