A Cotswold Poet

                                                                Garden Snails
 

Dear Reader 

It is thought that the first land snail evolved as soon as there were plants on land - about 350 million years ago - when plants required very wet conditions.   Survival  on land meant a period of unfavourable conditions with climatic variations affecting the snail whose body is still largely water.

Wild snails live from 3 - 7 years while those in captivity can live up to 25 years. Slow motion large land snails made for easy catching and good eating as early as 170,000 years ago.  Until now the oldest evidence of Homo sapiens eating land snails dated to roughly 49,000 years in Africa and 36,000 years in Europe.

Snails were originally considered a food for the poor but over time it became associated with luxury and sophistication.  The first recorded use of snails in cooking dates back to ancient Rome, but it was the French who really embraced the delicacy. In fact escargot has been a part of French cuisine since the Middle ages.

                                                                           *

The idea for the poem I wrote this week came to me when out for a walk with Francis in our locality.  We spied two large snails sitting on top of a telephone box built into the pavement.  For two or three minutes we enjoyed staring at them although they were perfectly still, doing nothing.  And then I thought of walks in the past years through the village and, although not exactly exciting, at least some of the things we looked at were moving!  How things have changed in old age. Still I liked the quiet peaceful snails, I felt cheerful watching them.  They had gone when we went back that way the day after.

                                                                          *

From Samuel Pepys April 22nd 1664 in Kent

'I was called up this morning before four o'clock.  It was full light to dress myself; and so by water against tide, it being a little cool, to Greenwich; and thence, only that it was somewhat foggy till the sun got to some height, walked with great pleasure to Woolwich, in my way staying several times to listen to the nightingales.'

From Francis Kilvert  April 25th 1876 in Herefordshire

........came slipping, sliding, scrambling down the precipitous path of deep red mud, greasy with rain....In a field adorned with a noble pear tree of majestic height and growth in full blossom I found cowslips and the first  bluebells and the young ferns uncurling their crozier heads.'

                                                                              *

The Slow Lane

On walks we watched

the trains

come and go

peered into neighbours

front gardens

looked through their windows

eyed people

walking their dogs

spoke to them

peeked into cafes

smelt sweet scents

strolled to the river

spied small silver fish

swimming in the stream

entered the village shop

chose some cards

a Victoria sponge cake

and some strawberries

but that was then

now living away from that

part of town

we stand silently

for a minute or two

watching two snails

sitting on a green telephone box

motionless

today's excitement

in a small moment

                                                                       *

With best wishes, Patricia

I thought this was a funny story.  President Mokgweetsi Masisi of Botswana said that he was demanding that Germany took 20.000 elephants and let them loose in Berlin.  This was because Botswana has been angered by reports that Berlin is considering banning the import of hunting trophies from protected species.   If this happened a ban would harm its economy and exacerbate issues with burgeoning elephant populations. 

Can you imagine 20.000 elephants roaming around Hyde Park if they were sent to Britain as threatened by Namibia?

                                                                                *

56 million years ago elephant species originated in Africa and remained there for the next 3 million years.   20 million years ago, elephant ancestors spread across the land bridges from Africa to Europe to Asia.

Calves are the centre of attention in their family groups and rely on their mothers for as long as three years.  Elephants can live up to 70 years in the wild.  They communicate by touch, sight, smell and sound; elephants use infra sound and seismic communications over long distance.

Given their tremendous size and strength, and because they gather in groups, elephants have few predators to worry about.  Lions, hyenas and crocodiles may attempt to prey on young or sick elephants.  They are renowned for their memory, intelligence and sociability and, as with humans, these traits make them particularly vulnerable to stress and to trauma and its longer-term psychological consequences.  

Finally elephants hate bees, and they do cry.  They bury their dead and pay tribute to the bodies and bones.

                                                                               *

From Gilbert White  April 8th  1770 in Hampshire

'No birds sing, and no insects appear during this wintry, sharp season.'

From Dorothy Wordsworth  April 9th 1798 in Somerset

'Walked to Stowey, a fine air going, but very hot in returning.  The sloe in blossom, the hawthorn green, the larches in the park changed from black to green in two or three days.'

                                                                                *

Going Back

The old farmhouse,

surrounded by

rhododendron bushes,

was a funny old place,

full of twists and turns

passages and panelled rooms,

a large sunny kitchen

with green lino floor,

a dark larder

full of hams and baskets of eggs,

while dogs slept in the small

drying room where it was warm.

There was a ghost, of course,

a smuggler killed fighting another

over a brandy run aborted.

I felt it, twice,

a middle of the night experience, ice cold, terrifying.

My dog wouldn't go in there,

just growled.

Tadpoles were caught in the streams,

ponies were ridden over the forest,

lots of apple crumble,

toad in the hole, beef stews,

and dumplings eaten

picnics on the lawn,

squirrels watching, watching....

a cosy family house

the children's home.

But now?

Years later it is reformed.  It is a

mansion.  Rebuilt with mega money.

All the farmyard magic gone,

the sun that used to filter

through dusty windows,

the back door with never a key,

the old farmhouse destroyed,

no longer a home but a fort.

A prison. Cameras everywhere

watching watching......

                                                                                          *

With very best wishes, Patricia

                                                                                         Italian Bistros
 

Dear reader,

Apparently Russian soldiers used a Slavic word pronounced  like "bystry" which means 'quick' or 'hurry' to demand that their food be produced as soon as possible.  The term stuck and restaurants that served simple food quickly became known as bistros.

The food served in bistros is typically simple, but delicious. The focus is on quality rather than quantity.  This means that the portions are usually smaller but the flavors intense. Bistros typically serve a variety of French-inspired dishes, such as salads, soup and bread.

The difference between a bistro and a brasserie is that while both establishments offer some of the best examples of French cuisine, bistros are more commonly associated with a casual ambiance and smaller menus, while brasseries feature a wider selection of food and extended hours.

                                                                                   *

Easter Day today.  We went to church which was looking lovely, masses of spring flowers and moss.  Easter Day is my favourite in the Christian calendar.  I think the Christian story is such an amazing one. Jesus Christ rising from the tomb and bringing hope and love and forgiveness to us all. I took communion which I haven't done for five years, and it was a beautiful return especially thinking about Christ's words at the Last Supper.   "Take, eat this is my body which is given to you....."

                                                                                    *

From Gilbert White   March 31st 1768 in Hampshire

'Black weather.  Cucumber fruit swells.  Rooks sit.  This day the dry weather has lasted a month.'

From Gilbert White   March 31st  1771 in Hampshire

'The face of the earth naked to a surprising degree.  Wheat hardly to be seen, and no signs of any grass:  turnips all gone, and sheep in a starving way.  All provisions rising in price.   Farmers cannot sow for want of rain.'

From Richard Jefferies  March31st 1880 in Surrey

'Rain at last weeks of the driest weather.  Rain in night and early morning.'

Porridge

The kitchen maid

plunges thin white arms

into the heavy cast-iron pot,

scours the glutinous porridge

from its insides.

She imagines her mistress

out in her carriage

on pleasure calls,

wearing lilac silk,

freshwater pearls around her neck,

her hands, idle white, in her lap.

She weeps.

The housewife scours the saucepan,

eases the porridge from its sides,

brushes the sticky mess into the sink.

She imagines her husband

taking the train, office-bound,

making important telephone calls,

lunching with partners Lucy and George

in that Italian bistro, discussing deals,

drinking white wine, laughing, living.

She weeps.

                                                                               *

With very best wishes, Patricia

                                                                              *

I didn't know that I was going to cry when I heard about Catherine's cancer. But I did.  It is just so awful.  How unfair it is that someone so good, so brave, could be struck down with this ghastly disease.  I always thought that the expression 'unfair' was ridiculous. Of course things are unfair from the day you are born. And the Royal family has had much unfairness in the last two months.  I have had cancer twice, one breast cancer and the other lung cancer and have survived which I'm certain Catherine will do after treatment.  

I wrote the following poem as soon as I heard the news.  It is not my best work but the best I can do in such a short time.

                                                                              *

Catherine,

Your Royal Highness

You give so much

always smiling

always having a go

cheering all who meet you

winning hearts wherever you tread

You are mother earth

a natural divine creation

your children marked

with royal blood

we wish you well again

and you will be

Catherine,

your Royal Highness

elegant, brave, beautiful

kind strong and good

We applaud, respect and love you.

God speed and may

the west wind embrace you.

                                                                        *

From Francis Kilvert  1872  March 24th in Radnorshire

'A snowy Palm Sunday.  Snow on the Psalms....I saw what I thought was along dazzling white and golden cloud up in the sky.  Suddenly I found that I had been gazing at the great snow slopes of the Black Mountain lit up by the setting sun and looking through the dark storm clouds.'

From John Ruskin  1886 March 27th in Lancashire

'Softest quiet poised clouds, calm lake in sunshine the sound of streams from hills, and the sense of peaceful power in all things.'

                                                                         *

With very best wishes, Patricia

                                                                                             Wasps
 

 Dear Reader,

I am a little puzzled by last week's reaction to my blog.  For instance over 2,000 hits have been recorded from Hong Kong.  Thinking about it I can only assume that it was the poem : 'The Mind Cupboard'   that attracted people, perhaps painting a picture of something they could relate to.  So I have put it on again this week so anyone who didn't read it last week will now have a chance to see it.  There is some reference to wasps in it and I thought I would learn something about them for myself and for the blog. 

Wasps play a vital role as predators controlling the number of potential pests like greenfly and many caterpillars and protecting our crops and our gardens.  But wasps are also now increasingly understood to be valuable pollinators, transferring pollen as they visit flowers to drink nectar.h

It seems that they don't live long.  Adult worker wasps can live between 12-22 days while the queen will survive for the entire year until the cold causes the colony to die off.  The common wasp is found throughout the UK in almost all habitats, including woodland and urban areas. 

Unlike a bee, which can only sting once, the European wasp can sting repeatedly.  Around one in 10 people who are stung two or more times become allergic, which means they will experience severe reactions to any subsequent stings.  Wasps can become territorial if they feel their nests are threatened or when availability of food is low but most of them are not aggressive.

                                                                                 *

From John Ruskin  March 19th 1807 in Surrey

'Desperately cold, with huge-flaked snow.  The worst of January, November and March all in one.'

From Richard Hayes  March 21st 1762 in Kent

'This day I saw a yellow butterfly.....My rooks, by the cold weather and snows, did not begin building till last Sunday (14th).'

From Gilbert White    March 21st 1775 in Hampshire

'Earthworms lie out, and copulate.'

From Dorothy Wordsworth   March 21st  1798 in Somerset

'We drank tea at Coleridge's.  A quiet shower of snow was in the air during more than half our walk.'w

                                                                                  *                                                                     

I saw a beautiful robin yesterday in the garden and I felt overjoyed as I haven't seen one since Christmas.  He was so sweet, looking around in such a cheerful manner, his bright little eyes sparkling.   I have looked up about a robin's story and this is what I have found.

The tale goes that the robin felt Christ's agony during the Crucifixion and went to pull out a thorn from His brow.  One version says that some of Christ's blood fell upon the birds breast, while another version says that the bird was wounded, both versions agree that the robin was blessed for the act of heroism.  

Male and female robins look identical, young birds have no red breasts and are spotted with golden brown.They sing nearly all the year round and despite their pretty appearance, they are aggressively territorial and are quick to drive away intruders.  They will sing at night next to street lights.

A robin sighting may let you know that is time to let go of things that are holding you back, find inspiration in your life, find your creative side, and show it to the world.

For centuries this tiny bird has been the symbol of good luck, happiness, rebirth and sometimes even as a messenger for lost love ones.  Robins defend their territory all the year round for breeding and feeding, they will fight to the death to protect their territory from other robins.

                                                                                     *

 From Richard Hayes  March 9th  1766 in Kent

'Very pleasant sunny warm day.  My rooks for the week past have been very busy a building.  And the butterflies have turned out.  Crocuses and spring flowers appear.  I now look upon this to be the pleasantest time of the year.'

From Francis Kilvert   March 19th  in Radnorshire

'The sun was almost overpowering.  Heavy black clouds drove up and rolled round the sky without veiling the hot sunshine, black clouds with white edges they were, looking suspiciously like thunder clouds.  Against these black clouds the sunshine showed the faint delicate green and pink of the trees thickening with bursting buds.'

                                                                             *

The Mind Cupboard

                                                                                        Spring Gardens
 

Dear reader,

I was thinking about friendship this week.  When I went to live in Oxford in the early eighties, divorced, and living on my own I became friends with Katie Fforde, the well known novelist.  We met at a Writers Week for those of us who wanted to become writers.  It was residential and I shared a room with Katie. Obviously we talked about our ambitions and our life and from then on she was a good friend to me.

She told me she was going to be a writer of novels, that stories poured into her head and that is what she wanted to do with her life, write them down. Incidentally Katie was married with three children and a devoted and loving husband.  I was trying my hand at poetry and since then I think I could say that I am a poet certainly not a novelist although I have written an autobiography:   "Half a Pair of People".   Do try it if you want something to laugh at in this rather miserable time of year. It is on Amazon.

Over the ensuing years Katie did indeed become a well known novelist and sadly I lost touch with her, got married again and lived a rather reclusive life.  But I spent a few weeks in hospital during 2019 and sent out for a few of her books to read.  Her books are so delightful and I knew they would cheer me up.  Well two weeks ago I saw she had written another novel and I sent for it.  It was just as joyful as all the others I have read.  

So I found her name on the internet and wrote to her.  We have been emailing each other ever since, there is so much to reminisce about especially to tell her how much I loved her mother, Barbara. It has been a wonderful experience  finding her again and would urge anyone reading this who has lost touch with an old friend to try and make contact.  Lots of memories come up that you thought you had lost and can now share with the friend which is interesting and lots of fun.  The old saying that there is nothing like old friends is so true, so true.

                                                                             *

From Gilbert White  1783 March 8th, in Hampshire

The crocuses make a gaudy appearance, and bees gather on them.  The air is soft.  Violets blow.  snow lies under hedges.   Men plow.

From D.H.Lawrence  1916 March 9th in Cornwall

This morning, the world was white with snow. This evening the sunset is yellow, the birds are whistling, the gorse bushed are bristling with little winged suns....The new incoming days seem most wonderful, uncreated.

                                                                             *

Friendship renewed

And there she was

my friend of many years ago

a little changed perhaps

did I see a white hair

but it was her alright

the same sweet smile

the elegant clothes

the suede boots

we spoke

tears overtook me

we had aged of course

but our friendship revived

my heart overflowing with

such an intense feeling

of long-lost love

long-lost affection

truly

a feeling like no other for

a precious friendship

                                                                            *

With very best wishes, Patricia