Chawton Revisited

                                                       The house where Jane Austen died.

 Dear Reader,

I started reading Jane Austen's books in my early teens and quite fell in love with them, and her.

She was born on December 16th, 1775 and died on July 18th, 1817.  She was a pioneer in fiction, breaking new ground in both subject and style.   She saw that every day events in ordinary places could be the stuff of fiction.   Her social range was narrow, confined only to her own rank in society, but she had universal comic wit.

Apparently her most famous quote is:

   'The person, be it a gentleman or lady, who has not the pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid.'  Quite so.

Jane Austen is primarily known for her six novels which implicitly interpret, critique or comment on the British landed gentry at the end of the 18th century. Her deft use of social comementary, realism and biting irony have earned her acclaim among critics and scholars.

As far as I can work out no one really knows what she died of at the very early age of 41.  It has been said that it was Addison's disease, although her final illness has been described as resulting from Hodgkin's lymphona.

Her six novels are still my favourite reads.  Perhaps I love 'Persuasion' best but I know all of them so well it is difficult to make a choice. 

 

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 From Francis Kilvert  September 14th 1873 in North Devon

'I got up at 6 o'clock as the sun was rising behind the Tors at Lynton.  The house was silent and no one seemed to be about.  I unlocked the door and let myself out into the garden.   It was one of the loveliest mornings that ever dawned upon this world.  A heavy dew had fallen in the night and as I wandered down the beautiful winding terraced walks every touch sent a shower from the great blue globes of the hydrangeas, and on every crimson fuchsia pendant flashed a diamond dew drop.  

The clear pure crisp air of the early morning blew fresh and exhilarating as the breeze came sweet from the sea.'

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Chawton Revisited

 

Do you remember Chawton, Jill,
forty years ago,
discussing Emma, Miss Bates, Fanny?
Do you remember
our mutual dislike of Aunt Norris
and her devious ways?

Do you remember the sitting-room, Jill,
with the round writing table
small, mirror-polished,
set in a garden-view window, or
the satin slippers tied with a ribbon,
the lace collars
embroidered by hand?

Do you remember the walk
to the church in the afternoon cool?
We sat on a bench in the late summer sun,
and mused on her death,
wondering why did she die, so young.

Do you remember Chawton, Jill?

Alone, alive, having tea in the tea room,
I feel you here with me still.

                                                                                   *

With very best wishes, Patricia

Those Boys

 Dar Reader,

                                                                           Geraniums

Dear Reader,

I remember some years ago reading about Richard Dawkins views on God. And it made me furious.  He is an atheist, and he still doesn't, it now seems at an older age, actually believe in God, although he get 'some sort of satisfaction from going to evensong in a country church, seen through the same eyes as he sees a village cricket match on the village green.'  

I suspect that many Christians find it quite hard to believe the Christian story.  But they, like me, have huge benefits from vaguely feeling that someone, God or a Higher Being, is looking after us.  That He will welcome our souls to an after life.   And when someone as important as Richard Dawkins says that logically there is no God, it leaves us Christians bereft, disturbed.   

Apparently there are very few Christians left in the UK, and those that are still going to church are all very old.  Young people are not interested in religion, and I don't think they are taught RE anymore in schools. But Jesus Christ left us with the ten commandments, instructions really as to how to lead our lives in a good way.  Looking at the world today I would say we haven't done very well, with the fire, famine and floods everywhere. 

Being a Christian is very comforting to me, and I am sure to lots of you readers of this blog.  "I am always with you" Jesus said.  And I believe Him.

 

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From William Blake, 1800 September 23rd, in Hampshire

The villages of Felpham are not meer Rustics; they are polite and modest.   Meat is cheaper than in London, but the sweet air and the voices of winds, trees and birds, and the odours of the happy ground, makes it a dwelling for immortals.   Work will go on there with God speed. - A roller and two harrows lie before my window.  I met a plow on my first going out at my gate the first morning after my arrival, and the Plowboy said to the Plowman,  'Father, the Gate is Open.'

From Gilbert White,  1781 September 23rd in Hampshire

'Begin to light fires in the parlour.'                                                           

                                                                                *

Those Boys

 

They came with a man

those boys,

guitars and drums

came too

the played non-stop

dum di dum di dum,

 

holidays on faraway beaches,

one boy, a fast runner,

ever a dot on the horizon,

picnics and sunbathing

reading books in sand dunes

swimming out far.

 

Teen years: kohl eye make up

was worn,

silver buckles sparkled on their shoes,

they stayed out late, dancing, clubbing.

Students:  they worked hard,

grew up, had girlfriends,

got degrees.

 

 

Much fun and laughter through those

formative times and much love too.

Years later they are still soul mates,

still her friends.

 

They were the sons she didn't have,

those boys.

 

                                                                           *

With very best wishes, Patricia

 

 

The Brown Bear

 Dear Reader,

The brown bear is a large bear species found across Eurasia and North America.  In North America the populations of brown bears are called grizzly bears.   Grizzly and brown bears are the same species but grizzly bears are currently considered to be a separate sub-species.

It is not possible to say exactly when and where bears died out in the UK as there is little evidence from natural sites such as caves, fens and bogs.  But based on evidence from a cave in the Yorkshire Dales the brown bear went extinct in the early medieval period.

Brown bears may reach seven feet tall and weigh up to 700 pounds.  They eat mostly grass, roots and berries.  The may eat fish, insects and ground squirrels or lager mammals if they can catch them.  Bears are normally shy, retiring animals that have very little desire to interact with humans.  Unless they are forced to be around humans to be near a food source they usually choose to avoid us.  Bears like humans and other animals, have a 'critical space' an area round them that they may defend.

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This is what made me laugh this week in the news.  A 21 year old man escaped from Wandsworth Prison by getting under a food delivery van and hanging on whilst the van left the premises. He has, after four days on the run, been caught.  But here is the joke.  A member of the police force said they might be able to 'coax' him back to prison.  I mean what with?  Some digestive biscuits or a banana.  This young man is obviously clever, he did well in school and also trained in the army to avoid re-capture and escape.  So coaxing him back to the prison seems to me a ludicrous idea.  Still it made me laugh.

                                                                             *

From Francis Kilvert  1871 September 8th in Radnorshire

'Peacock butterflies flitting over the sea of blue scabious, swinging, opening and shutting their broad wings and spreading their peacock eyes on the slope to the morning sun.  Light fleecy clouds drifted along half way down the great slopes of the dim blue misty mountains.'

From John Clare  1842 September 10th in Northants

'The swallows are flocking together in the skies ready for departing and a crowd has dropt to rest on the walnut tree where they twitter as if they were telling their young stories on their long journey to cheer and check fears.'

                                                                             *

The Brown Bear

lies on the floor
the rocking chair still,
the house mute,
the children gone.

Three months of silence,
as boarding school houses my children,
the woman thinks.
How will I endure the emptiness,
the ache of missing them,
not being of comfort?

She sees the bear's blue jersey
is torn, has large holes in it,
like the large holes in her heart.
She picks up the bear,
holds him tight,
pours herself a drink.

                                                                         *

With very best wishes, Patricia

Soldier's Meditation

 Dear Reader,

The word 'soldier' derives from the Middle English word 'soudent' from the old French 'soudeer' meaning mercenary which comes from 'soudee' which means a shilling's worth or wage.  The word is also related to the Medieval Latin 'soldarius' meaning soldier (literally "one having pay").

The first English standing army was formed by Oliver Cromwell in 1645 during the Civil War.   His soldiers were highly disciplined and trained.  The term British Army was adopted in 1707 after the Acts of Union between England and Scotland.

In certain cases, a soldier can advance and transition to officer during the course of his/her career.  Officers are generally employed in management roles or highly specialized fields that require professional degrees (eg. doctors, lawyers and chaplains). 

Since the earliest recorded history, soldiers and warfare have been depicted in countless works, including songs, folk tales, stories, memoirs, biographies, novels and other narrative fiction.  Often these portrayals have emphasized the heroic qualities of soldiers in war, but at times have emphasized war's inherent dangers, confusions and trauma and their effect on individual soldiers and others.

My father fought in the first WW but never spoke about it.  He was gassed and ever afterwards had headaches and felt ill frequently. 

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From William Cobbett  1823 September 1st in Kent

'From Tenterden I set off at five o'clock and got to Appledore after a most delightful ride, the high land upon my right, and the low land upon my left.  The fog was so thick and white along some of the low land, that I should have taken it for water, if little hills and trees had not risen up through it here and there.'

 

From Gilbert White  1774 September 4th in Hampshire

'Wood-owls hoot much.'

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Soldier’s Meditation

 

 

 

My cigarette time-burns,

my body trembles,

only minutes now

until the action starts.

 

Am I brave?   no, not brave

I am shit-scared,

my body reeks.

The last drop of whisky

wets my parched lips.

I light another cigarette.

 

I hold this gun to hide behind.

With it, I will aim and slaughter

someone unknown, someone’s son,

mother, father, daughter.

 

 

If killed, I want no part in bands playing,

or speeches glorifying my sacrifice.

I want no weeping, seen or unseen,

pitying those who were,

those who had been.

 

Go, action, ready, time to start.

Dear God, do leaden wings always fly

a universal soldier’s heart?

 

                                                                      *

 

With best wishes, Patricia