Author: Andrew Green
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A brief note on bedside books
Back in the days when Glyn Tegai Hughes and R. Gerallt Jones were Wardens there was a custom that most overnight visitors to Gregynog appreciated as an unusual but delightful practice. Somewhere in your bedroom – usually on the mantlepiece if you were placed in the old house – you’d find a small collection of…
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Zennor in light
Penwith is as far west as you can go in England. At the toe of Cornwall, it’s a region that looks and feels Atlantic. Its place-names are mostly Celtic. Prehistoric remains lie scattered across its open granite landscape. Three nights we spent recently in Penwith give me the chance to taste the South West Coastal…
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Afallon = Abertawe?
‘Nofel ddarllenadwy a chrefftus’ yw’r ansoddeiriau ar glawr Afallon gan Robat Gruffudd, a enillodd Gwobr Goffa Daniel Owen llynedd. Disgrifiad teg iawn, ‘swn i’n dweud: mae’n llyfr sy’n dal ei afael arnoch chi hyd y diwedd. Y cymeriad canolog yw Rhys John, dyn sy wedi gweld llawer o’r byd, ond ychydig iawn o hunan-dwyll sy…
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Attacking Syria: an MP replies
Letter 1 From: Andrew Green Sent: 27 August 2013 20:07 To: CATON, Martin Subject: Syria Dear Mr Caton I find it hard to believe that the UK government is seriously intending to take part in a US-led military attack on Syria. It seems that nothing has been learned from the experience of invading Iraq. It…
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What Calgacus said
Andrew Marr recently made the point that the future of Scotland is a subject almost totally ignored in the rest of the UK. ‘Nobody is talking about what kind of a Scotland we want after independence’, he said, ‘people in England haven’t really come to terms with what it would mean.’ It would be fair…
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London: scene of flight, scene of destruction
Fleeing from the noise and heat of the midday traffic we took our sandwiches to a bench in a small public garden off Marylebone High Street. What we’d chanced upon was the site of the old St Marylebone church, across the road from its 1817 replacement. Nothing remains of the first three churches (the current…
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The strange death of the male necktie
I’ve been looking through my ties lately, as part of a more general, quasi-Buddhist ‘do I really need these any longer?’ investigation. It’s a heterogeneous collection of the long and the short, the dark and the light, the sober and the ‘look at me’, the narrow and the absurdly wide. Reviewing them set me thinking…
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Clerestory
Blackletter rules: Hymns. Propers. Pages. He is risen. R (red). But below From the cellist’s dark S (secretum) Four notes lift, Clear chancel’s arch Disaggregate Get caught By the high window Quiver a second, Rupture.
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Edgar Degas and the art of ironing
Ironing clothes is one of the small but rewarding pleasures of life. I tend to do it in the kitchen on a Sunday morning, when the sun falls on the ironing board and good music comes from the radio. Smoothing creases in cotton always has a calming effect on the mind. Occasionally the regular passage…
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Wales Coast Path: day 42: Whitesands to Portgain
Friday is hotter still. There’s almost no breeze. We decide to head south-north for a change, starting from Whitesands Bay and repeating a little of our mini-walk in May. It’s so oppressive that Ca. turns back at St David’s Head to join us later. The rest of us sweat onwards, through the rough gorse and…