A Charlbury Voice. The Mind Cupboard

 Dear Reader,

The poem today is about a very different Charlbury, the small market town that I live in.  My next door neighbour for many years was Vic Brackenbury, born and bred in the town. He wasn't at all  happy about the ways of "new comers"; they spoilt the town he said, and many of the traditional shops closed.  I wrote this poem many years ago but I think he would be shocked at the changes he could see today.  These changes have taken place in villages and small market town everywhere in England, and not for the better I would say.  Still I am old and don't like change.  I like things as they were when I came here twenty years ago.

                                                                          *

Well the sun shone here all yesterday.  I couldn't believe it.  Lots of garden birds hopped about and the robin stayed near the table where we were sitting most of the day. Gosh it makes such a difference to your mood when sunlight filters down through the trees and the birds make music.  

                                                                           *

I thought this was interesting.  

Red squirrels may have passed leprosy onto humans in medieval times according to a new study co-authored by academics from the University of Winchester.  The leprosy strain recovered from the medieval red squirrel bones is closer to the human stains than it is to those in  modern rodents says the new study.  Transmission may have taken place when furriers were handling the skins of animals.  Squirrel fur was often used to line and trim clothing in the medieval period.  The UK"s red squirrel population (around 160,000) is now far smaller than it would have been in England in the 10th and 11th centuries.                                                                                                                                               

                                                                                *

 

From Francis Kilvert  May 24th  1874 in Wiltshire

'.....banks and hedges brilliant with pink campion .....As I came home the western heavens were jewelled with pure bright sparkling lights of grey silver and pale gold, and overhead a sublime mackerel sky of white and blue in its distant fleecy beauty gave me a more intense and grand sense of infinity and illimitable than I ever remember to have had before.'

 

From Gilbert White  May 28th  1793 in Hampshire

'My weeding-woman swept up on the grass-plot a bushel basket of blossoms from the white apple tree: and yet that tree seems still covered with bloom.'

 

From Samuel Pepys  May 29th  1662 in Surrey

'With my wife and the two maids and the boy took boat and to Vauxhall, where I had not been a great while.   To the old Spring Garden, and there walked long, and the wenches gathered pinks.'

                                                                              *

A Charlbury Voice

 

“Things were different then,” the old chap said,

“Some born and died in the same old bed.

Saddlers, glove makers, and the railroad

gave men jobs; and kept them proud.

Yes, men kept guns but shot to eat,

the poorer families had little other meat.

People helped each other through their lives,

with babies safely born to knowing wives.

Walking through the town you talked to everyone,

no privacy, of course, but things got done.

 

Now I know or speak to few people here,

and fewer people talk to me, or care,

I hear the railway is just a single track,

and a wilderness overtaking round the back.

Once men worked there selling coal,

later with its disuse, forced on the dole.

 

Then, useful things were sold in shops.

The ironmonger sold screws, pins, string and mops,

darning needles, hammers, dusters, candles, brown teapots,

measures, light bulbs, garden hoses, children's cots.

 

On summer evenings children ran down the southern road,

and played and picnicked by the Evenlode.

In those days we wandered, happy, daring, free -

well, nothing now is as it used to be.

Modern life is twisted, the proper order is unsure,

people not content with little, ever wanting more.

 

There is danger everywhere, from cars and caravans,

litter in the street, discarded bottles, empty cans.

The evening peace with rooks my music overhead,

silenced;  a cacophony of noise instead

from pubs, which need the trade, and so

by popular demand silence had to go.

 

Were people more contented then?   It’s not for me to say,

and yet I think they seemed so in my day”.

                                       *

 

The Mind Cupboard                By popular demand

 

My mind cupboard overflows

with unwanted debris.

It needs a spring clean.

 

I will brush away the cobwebs

of cheerless thoughts.

Scrub out the stains of childhood.

 

I will replace the brass hooks

corroded with salt tears,

empty all the screams

hoarded through the years.

 

I will replace the accumulated ashes

from the worn shelf-paper,

with virgin tissue.

 

I will chase and catch the wasps,

relieve them of their stings.

I will refill this cupboard

with love, and learnt, brighter things.

 

 

 

                                                                            

 

With best wishes, Patricia

My Everything Friend. The Mind cupboard

                                                                                 The City of Bath

 

 

Dear Reader,

Chawton House is situated about 400m away from the cottage where Jane Austen lived for the last eight years of her life.   The present Chawton House was built, starting in 1580, by John Knight, based on an older manor house.  The estate had been owned by the Knight family since 1551.  The house if built of flint with stone dressings and a tiled roof.

Jane and her sister Cassandra moved to Chawton in July 1809 with their mother and Martha Lloyd.  Chawton House was offered to them, rent-free by their elder brother Edward, who inherited estates in Chawton, Steventon and Godmersham, from rich relatives. 

When she arrived at Chawton Jane Austen had written three novels in draft form, Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, and Northanger Abbey.  She revised these novels at the house before getting them published.  It was here she wrote Mansfield Park, Emma and Persuasion.

                                                                               *

From Dorothy Wordsworth  May 20th 1800 in Westmorland

'A fine mild rain.   After breakfast the sky cleared and before the clouds passed from the hills I went to Ambleside.  It was a sweet morning.  Everything green and overflowing with life, and the streams making a perpetual song, with the thrushes and all little birds not forgetting the stone-chats.'

From D.H. Lawrence   May 24th  1916 in Cornwall

'The country is simply wonderful, blue, graceful little companies of bluebells everywhere on the moors, the gorse in flame, and on the cliffs and by the sea, a host of primroses, like settling butterflies, and seapinks like a hover of pink bees, near the water.   There is a Spanish ship run on the rocks just below - great excitement everywhere.'

                                                                           *

My Everything Friend

 

You were so everything,  Jill

funny, clever, good.

You were my always friend

in navy skirt, white blouse

Hermes scarf and pumps.

 

We shared our love of Jane Austen

visited Chawton over the years.

One summer we visited Bath

explored the city

had a vegetarian lunch,

shared a bottle of white wine

laughed and laughed.

 

You worked hard,

helped people from all

walks of life,

made a difference.

Your children adored you

and so did mine.

 

 But cancer stole you,

took your life early

at its end,

leaving me grief stricken, bereft,

my one time, everything,

not replaceable,

friend.

 

May 13th, 2024

                                                                         *

The Mind Cupboard

 

 

 

 My mind cupboard overflows

with unwanted debris.

It needs a spring clean.

 

I will brush away the cobwebs

of cheerless thoughts.

Scrub out the stains of childhood.

 

I will replace the brass hooks

corroded with salt tears,

empty all the screams

hoarded through the years.

 

I will replace the accumulated ashes

from the worn shelf-paper,

with virgin tissue.

 

I will chase and catch the wasps,

relieve them of their stings.

I will refill this cupboard

with love, and learnt, brighter things.

 

                                                                             *

With very best wishes, Patricia

 

Realization. The Mind Cupboard

                                                                Perhaps summer has arrived...

Dear Reader,

Tulips are spring blooming.  The flowers are usually large, showy and brightly coloured, generally red, orange, pink, yellow or white.

The name 'tulip' is thought to be derived from a Persian word for turban, which may have been thought to resemble by those who discovered it.

Flowering in the spring they become dormant in the summer once the flowers and leaves die back, emerging above ground as a shoot from the underground bulb in early spring.

Growing in much of the Near East and Central Asia tulips have probably been cultivated in Persia from the 10th century.  By the 15th century tulips were among the most prized flowers becoming the symbol of the later Ottomans.

The most known meaning of tulips is perfect and deep love.  As tulips are a classic flower that has been loved by many for centuries they have been attached with the meaning of love.  According to superstition if you dream about white tulips it can mean that you are about to embark on a new journey and a fresh start.

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From Dorothy Wordsworth  1800  May 17th in Westmorland   

'Incessant rain from morning till night.......The Skobby (chaffinch)sat quietly in its nest, rocked by the wind, and beaten by the rain.'

 From Gerard Manley Hopkins  1874 May 17th in Surrey

 ......to Combe Wood to see and gather bluebells, which we did, but fell in bluehanded with a gamekeeper, which is a humbling thing to do.   Then we heard a nightingale utter a few strains- strings of very liquid gurgles.'

                                                                                      *

 

Realization

 

 

I am

part of the whole.

 

I am

in the first light,

the bird’s first song,

the sun’s first dart

through the curtain crack,

in the music of summer trees.

 

I am

part of the alpha,

the birth,

the awakening,

the growing and spreading,

the throbbing of life.

 

I am part of all suffering

hands blood-stained.

Part of love

humanity shares and

of all good things.

 

I am

part of the omega,

the closing, the last light,

the call back from the dark

to the bright, eternal night.

                                                                 *

 

 

 

This is the final time I will put this poem on the blog.

The Mind Cupboard

 

My mind cupboard overflows

with unwanted debris.

It needs a spring clean.

 

I will brush away the cobwebs

of cheerless thoughts.

Scrub out the stains of childhood.

 

I will replace the brass hooks

corroded with salt tears,

empty all the screams

hoarded through the years.

 

I will replace the accumulated ashes

from the worn shelf-paper,

with virgin tissue.

 

I will chase and catch the wasps,

relieve them of their stings.

I will refill this cupboard

with love, and learnt, brighter things.

 

                        *

 

 

with very best wishes, Patricia

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                   

My Tenant. The Mind Cupboard.

                                                                                   Wise Women?

 

Dear Reader,

I have always thought that the two characteristics I would most like to have are wisdom and courage.  I suppose that over the years we all grow wiser so I think I am now quite wise.  I have been through many adventures, good and bad, and have grown wise  in the process. But courage, that is another thing.  

I read two or three books a week and they are usually about the wars, the First World War, and the Second. I read of the supreme courage of soldiers, nurses, doctors and all sorts of people who volunteered to help. They were all so brave and selfless.  Amazing women walked home at night in streets that were not lit, after working in a London hospital all day, through the Blitz, and sometimes  joined a boyfriend at a nightclub or restaurant.

Well my friends I know that I am not made of that stuff.  I simply couldn't do it, and I can't imagine what war work I could have done.  Well typing and washing up somewhere would have been possible. But I wonder what it is in us humans that makes us courageous or not. 

You have probably read in the past about my chimp.  The voice in my head that protects me, keeps me from danger.  He would have been working overtime in the war, and probably suggested that I stayed in bed under the covers.  In fact he is useful but can be a bit bossy and overdoes the dangers that might accrue.  He has been quiet lately because of the ghastly weather we have stayed indoors where danger is not so likely although the stairs.....

                                                                            *

 From Richard Hayes  May 6th 1770 in Kent

'By the backwardness of the spring my elm trees in the rookery are uncommon backward in putting out into leaf so that there is little or no appearance of the buds putting forth.  So that to all appearance the nests are as naked as though the depth of winter, notwithstanding we have taken young rooks for a fortnight past.'

 

From Dorothy Wordsworth  May 6th 1820 in Westmorland

'A sweet morning...The small birds are singing, lambs bleating, cuckow calling, the thrush sings by fits, Thomas Ashburner's axe is going quietly (without passion) in the orchard, hens are cackling, flies humming, the women talking together at their doors. plum and pear trees are in blossom - apples trees greenish.' 

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My Tenant

 

Aunty Anne

lives in my head

sits in a comfortable

velvet armchair

talks to me

 

she is a wise woman

plump with a pretty face

wears a white lacy blouse

a long patchwork skirt

has her hair in a bun

 

she smells of lavender water,

face powder and barley sugars

and she gives me

good advice,

 

away with miserable

thoughts at night,

she says, think

of the sunshine,

the sea, characters you love in books,

 

then she puts

her arms around me

kisses my cheek,

murmurs she loves me

and all will be well

 

and it is,

I sleep.

 

                                                                  *

The Mind Cupboard

 

 

My mind cupboard overflows

with unwanted debris.

It needs a spring clean.

 

I will brush away the cobwebs

of cheerless thoughts.

Scrub out the stains of childhood.

 

I will replace the brass hooks

corroded with salt tears,

empty all the screams

hoarded through the years.

 

I will replace the accumulated ashes

from the worn shelf-paper,

with virgin tissue.

 

I will chase and catch the wasps,

relieve them of their stings.

I will refill this cupboard

with love, and learnt, brighter things.

 

 

                                                                     *

With very best wishes, Patricia