So apologies are due; a daily echo was proving a little too much to manage, especially because we've been beset by various challenges in the last few days. So I'll aim for 3 or 4 a week. How's that? Today…
The sun came out yesterday, the sky filled with cotton wool clouds, and birds chirped merrily. An idyllic English afternoon in early Spring, in fact. Edward Thomas (1878-1917) in 1905 Rupert Brooke (1887-1915) in April 1913 - colourized by jecinci…
well, well, well... the world is a VERY different place since I started compiling this month's map. SOOOO strange. Covid19 Treasure Worldometer: this is one of a number of reliable places to keep up-to-date stats on the spread of the…
Today's reading is neither poetry nor fiction but is prose of a different sort. It is one of C. S. Lewis's great essays, one which feels more relevant today than ever. But it will make you think a fair bit.…
Thomas Gray by John Giles Eccardt, (1747-1748) Time to get out of the house. We're allowed out for up to an hour a day, which is just as well as we'd lose the plot otherwise, as would the dog. Followers…
Apologies for being lax yesterday. Normal transmission can now be resumed. I'm hoping to be daily but it's funny how busy things are even during this extended home assignment! Today I'm going to read some poems from someone who is…
I think this is him! Time to take a break from seriousness and intensity. Here's some much-needed light relief. Patrick Barrington, or as he was to become, the 11th (and last) Viscount Barrington of Ardglass and 11th Baron Barrington of…
William Cowper by Lemuel Francis Abbott (1792) Q regulars will know that William Cowper has been a personal favourite for years. He had to navigate the storms of mental illness throughout his adult life, without any of the understanding, support…
Today's lockdown reading is unique. It's never been published before (apart from being posted on this blog about four years ago) but I think you'll agree is very special indeed. Fuller details are on that post, so to prevent undue…
W H Auden had in later life the most wonderfully craggy face in English literature. But this poem comes from many years earlier and is rather less heart-warming than the others we've had. But then, because we can't always be…