Fruit of Three Segments: SWIRE Exhibition; Lacock Abbey; and Books (Pepys, Trollope & Brontë)

Good Evening and welcome to tonight’s episode which I’ve produced just for you! Welcome newcomers and hello friends 🤗.

First I visit the wonderful Swire Ridgeway Arts Prize 2026, organised by the Friends of the Ridgeway (https://share.google/OWNB5Guii9FsZ9EWJ).  Next I fly by Lacock Abbey and manage to have time alone in the cloisters; then after some pondering, I read more from Trollope, Pepys, The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and Charlotte Brontë.  We also toast the life of enigmatic Caedwalla. To kill pagans or not? That was the question.  I wish you a restful evening as we all spin together on the surface of this blue planet.  Let’s keep looking for the good, for the light, and walk through life’s obstacles with chins up and leaning on whatever crutches are available: stumble trip, stumble trip.  Goodnight and thank you.  

Love Gretel 🌳🐦‍⬛🦔

Transcript

SPEAKER_01 0:39

Hello and welcome to the second epic for this evening. It's Sunday and I hope you're well. I'm still with Headley and I'm going to take him for I'm going to see an exhibition with him. I think an exhibition that he's judging. And then we'll go on to our usual Sunday night readings. People are going up to him because they recognise him. That's how famous he is. And the great thing is no one recognises me because I keep my face out of all the pictures because that's the way I like to roll. But I hope you've had a lovely Sunday. It's been a beautiful day here in I'm still in the Uffington area. I've come to just driven into Uffington village. I was staying in Wollstone nearby last night, but I'm already missing a bit the puppy. I mean I shouldn't say the children, but I'm used to being apart from them. But a puppy I'm not used to being apart from. So after this, I'm going to head home and I look forward to that too. It's nice to have a long drive after a busy day where you can just listen to an audio record and some nice music and relax. So let's go to the exhibition, and I will introduce you to whatever it is we're seeing at the exhibition. I'm in Headley's hands. And I hope you enjoyed our chatter up at Whalen Smithy. It is lovely to meet people and to record them of the podcast, and I'm always grateful for the feedback. I think hopefully it's interesting for you not to be constantly listening to my voice. Right, I'll catch up in a minute. So I have no idea why we've come to this little modern place. Why have we come to this little modern building?

SPEAKER_00 2:17

It's a funny little modern building with a life-saving defibrillar on the side.

SPEAKER_01 2:21

Yeah, they all have their modern, I don't know.

SPEAKER_00 2:23

This is the Swire Art Prize 2026, and it's amateur and sort of semi-professional artists who compete. And the theme this year is Shapes and Shadows of the Ridgeway.

SPEAKER_01 2:36

Okay.

SPEAKER_00 2:37

And there are four categories. There's the art category, the wall art category, you've got ceramics, well, I think actually sculpture this year.

SPEAKER_01 2:43

Oh wonderful.

SPEAKER_00 2:44

Photography, which is what I judged yesterday, and then you've got written work. And the overall winner is actually a written piece. And I think they really like it.

SPEAKER_01 2:52

And you why the judge?

SPEAKER_00 2:54

I mean just because I'm a local busy work.

SPEAKER_01 2:58

Why have they asked you to re need the judge?

SPEAKER_00 3:00

Because I'm a photographer and they they uh they know that I know the ridgeway really well.

SPEAKER_01 3:04

Yeah.

SPEAKER_00 3:05

Um and they know that it sounds busy, doesn't it?

SPEAKER_01 3:08

And um it's nice though, nice.

SPEAKER_00 3:10

It's nice, it's a nice bus. And uh they know that I I know a lot of the photographers around here. Yeah, and so they asked me this is my third year judging.

SPEAKER_01 3:19

Wonderful!

SPEAKER_00 3:20

Again, it's something that Anna Dylan helps set up as well. So I have that link to it as well.

SPEAKER_01 3:24

Do you want to tell me now why you chose the winning one, or do you want to do it inside? We can do it inside. Perfect. Okay, let's go in. I'll follow you. Okay, and we'll get the sound of the hubbub. I'll take you in and then I'll probably pause for a moment. Hello. There's a nice hubbub here. I'd like to do it. Hello. Hello, I'm now going to introduce you to Anna Dylan. Say hello. It's just my phone saying, no brush microphones are a little bit. Just about to say, why are you important in the world of Headley or in the world generally? Tell me about yourself. It's very casual in Headley's world, goodness knows. But um, as I was driving over here today, looking at the lovely landscape which is at its best of this time of year, all the sort of yellows and the lime greens, and loving this route. I just think this exhibition is all about the amazing landscape. I think it's a great time for it. Do you come up with the Friends of the Ritual A come up with my two games come up now? Yeah. And um, I've corrected the show, which means two days of hanging the work, which is not easy. And how do you go about that? Because I as I I was looking at it thinking, I you know, for example, would these have would you feel that they would have more luck to get looked at because they're here, or do you have well I I saw these and they they really are the reason I put them in the front is because they really hit they link with the thing really well. They do a strong link there. They do, and they're so vibrant and dramatic. We're looking at dramatic pictures of the rib Ridgeway in front of us. Actually, we haven't said the theme, so if you do want to say what the theme is, shadows and shapes, yeah. So that can be interpreted anyway. Yeah, but the I think when you're trying to so the the lovely thing about this exhibition is that it's all ages, all different types, um medium, all different ranges, so from professional artists to anybody who wants to just pick up the point, and um for me the challenge is to put the work together that complements each other. Yeah, so you've got to take account of colours, framing, yeah, medium, yeah, theme, you know, the actual landscapes. Yeah, and there are four mediums, sorry, do you want to be a little bit more? Well, so yeah, there's sculpture, yeah, but that's quite straightforward because you can put it on the back of their um stage and it all works together. Hanging the paintings, you've got to be aware of the size as well. So when you have a really big piece, it might dominate all the other pieces. Yeah, and how, yes, exactly what what you're gonna hang around if you don't want to, but I don't want others to be lost. This is perfect. I mean, when I was in in the reception area and the lady was talking to me, Wendy was talking to me. At one point I got distracted because I just thought these looked so dramatic and wonderful. To have these colours, there were some beautifully colourful paintings, but then next to some black and white uh what etchings are they? Yeah, this one's a pen. A pen. Yeah, it's a it's a pen. I mean that's a so we're looking at a picture of sort of a black and white pen work that's trees and trunks and stones. So the theme is shadows and shapes, and you've got shadows there, and you've got all the different shapes, but I think particularly the the word shape, because it's all about the shapes, isn't it? Whether it's the white horse or the hill or the trunks or the stones, it's all about that, isn't it? It's amazing. Like these, yeah. So it's abstract. I know the artist's felicity, she's amazing, and it's um the dynamism of it that goes with these, so an abstract, and we don't get too many abstract pieces, so that's quite nice. Yeah, and I don't normally like abstract that much, but that's fantastic. Also, when um that's by Paul Davies, that one. Yeah, so when you read through, I've put eye-catching pieces to sort of catch your eye as you go in. Yeah, but also the challenge is that everyone's subjective about one of the things. Of course, yeah. So you've got to be mindful that you don't let your own subjective views influence. Try and be neutral. Are you happy to tell me about the winner and white one? I haven't seen the actual prices, but I did want to bring your attention to this piece. Go for it, yeah, yeah. So I um I have a friend who lives in the village and he's called Phil Diamond. And this is this is the first time he's ever put anything on display in the public. That's my favourite version. And it's a raven, yes. So we're looking at a raven. I know for a fact that it's taken him days and days and months and months to do this. It's amazing. It's really symbolic of the success of seeing the raven come back to the landscape to the landscape of the original. Yes. When did that happen? Sorry. Well it's evolved over the last few decades. Because it's really obvious when I went out for a walk last night. The noise was amazing. Yeah, so they they've got that just distinctive wharring sound. Yeah. But they've they're very they've come back on the Berkshire Downs a lot through just changes in protection and maybe different sort of respects for forming, I don't know, but they've come back. So I was probably hearing Jack Daws, actually, wasn't it wasn't there? Rather than. Yeah, the raven's got a kind of loud clonking sound. Right, yes, okay. But the picture itself is is wonderful. There's it's a picture of a raven on a on a on a branch and it's looking over its shoulder, which is very clever. He he's taken it, he's done it from a picture, a photograph. Yes. Yeah. So I think you'd call it photorealism. Yeah, it's so realistic, isn't it? And the feathers look beautiful. I know how long it took to take it, so it's just done. Will he mind if I put it on Twitter? No, he'd love. Okay. I'm sure he would don't quote me, but nope, he'll be in later. Okay, I'll do that. I'll come and say hello in a minute. Yeah, thank you. Right, so this one's by Phil Diamond and it's called Paul Heen. Yeah, I think I was talking about the jackdoors last night because they make a different sound. I don't know that I've ever heard ravens and wide. So, what I'll do is take a picture for you so you can have a look at that. What a lovely lady. It's events like this, isn't it, in little communities that um just make the make the world go round, really. I think it's wonderful. I've come to the front of this lovely old village hall, and um I say old, I I think it isn't old, I think it's new, but old as in you know Quaint. And I'm at the front by the sculpture, and the sculpture's wonderful. There's a piece by Janet Manning, and it's called Ridgeway Rolling Landscape. And that was the runner-up, and it's been produced as a sort of rippled piece of it's not going to be card, but it looks like imagine rippled card that's then got wool all over it with all different colours and to look like the Ridgeway with the vibrant pink flowers and then fluffy white. I was about to say sheep, but I don't think it is sheep. I think they're the plants, um, and then there's some kite flyers by Michelle Green. They're lovely, a sort of father and a dog and children. And the there's one called Winter Walk by Michelle Green again,£650, and that's a cast sculpture of um an adult figure with a little child on its shoulders. Really lovely. There's an owl again by Michelle Green, and she's got hers for sale. It'd be nice to buy some sculpture, which is something I've never really got into before. And the winner was Karen Vogt, V A G T circling kites. Actually, what's great about this is the sculpt, the piece itself is in the shape of one of the standing stones at Wayland Smithy, that kind of, I'm not say exact, but that kind of look. And on it there are um kites circling about. I think at the moment the Raven might have my vote. There's a people's vote that they're announcing uh at three o'clock, and which is quite nice, it gets us all involved, it's a really good idea. They should do it more, shouldn't they, with national competitions. Um I like the fact that some are really, really vibrant and others black and white or very pale. There's a hubbub of people sitting having tea and eating cake. And poor Headley had so many things to show me today, but I'm gonna have to head home soon while I've got the energy to do the drive. So I'm standing before the oval winner, which is called 21st Celebration, a winter solstice by Catherine Smith. So it's a written piece of five paragraphs, but also at the top she adds little short lines to go with Winter Solstice. So instead of reading the whole piece, I'll read the part that is attached to the title. White horse hill in the cold depths of winter. Night time ends and darkness fades, the sun rises, equestrian chalk catches, catches the light, revealing glimpses of its many forms. Shadows and light add flesh to ancient bones. Over the hill towards Wayland Smithy leaps the horse of myth and legend, surpassed at midday by the sweeping sun. Twilight returns, it's time once again to celebrate the lengthening days, embracing the year to come. And her final line on the piece is I'm left with a peaceful feeling of time unexpectedly well spent and filled with hope for the year ahead. Well, congratulations, congratulations, Catherine Smith. That's wonderful, it's wonderful to win things for your work, isn't it? But do I give the overall prize to not me, but my vote to Phil Diamond for the lovely Raven? I'm very tempted, it's beautiful.

SPEAKER_00 13:42

Yeah, so I'm about to be taken to this this is um a primary school children's photography exhibition. That's amazing. It's judged by a gentleman called Matt Riddle, who's kind of the official photographer for the Ridgeway. Right. But here he's all taken by primary school children. I can't believe that and the standard is absolutely fantastic.

SPEAKER_01 14:05

So in front he's um Headler's brought us into a room, and in front of us there are ten photographs, all A3 size, and and probably another ten maybe about 30 in all. And they're just extraordinary. So there's one here of ducks that are looking gorgeous, and that's by oh well I just say Jeffrey. What else have we got? A close up of leaves and a view of the ridgeway. The view of the ridgeway with two people silhouetted against it. That's very good, isn't it? That's lovely. With the sky behind.

SPEAKER_00 14:45

And we're looking at the reflection rather than the actual view.

SPEAKER_01 14:48

So Adam has yeah, taken a picture. There's a reflection of a tree and some. It looks like the grass is that's reflected too, maybe. And and maybe his house or a house. It's all reflected, but it looks no, that's very clever, isn't it?

SPEAKER_00 15:03

And it must have been very still because it's it must have been, because I I didn't think that I couldn't.

SPEAKER_01 15:07

No, it doesn't immediately look like it, does it? And that's excellent. So did he use a drone?

SPEAKER_00 15:12

No. I'm wondering if that's um from up on the ridgeway, maybe. Yeah, I don't know.

SPEAKER_01 15:17

That's a picture from uh the what is it, the white leaf cross.

SPEAKER_00 15:24

I have to look at here here. This is lovely, you can just see the M40, you've got this red coat flying through the mist. No, that's really the M40 behind, and of of course Silbury Hill as well.

SPEAKER_01 15:35

That's wonderful. And hard to get a picture like uh of Silbury Hill to make it look interesting and new, and it's perfect. I mean, as a photographer, would you say which which is your favourite?

SPEAKER_00 15:46

Oh, I don't know where to start. Or is it unfair? I I'm gonna say it's unfair. But they're they're all of such a main standard. This one here, I mean there's one of we're looking at a field of what looks to be just wild grass on what looks to be quite a dull day, but what stands out here is one colour, and it's these lovely purple flowers that are coming out. Everything else is very pastel, but they they're very strong.

SPEAKER_01 16:12

Beautifully described. Do you know what I might actually say?

SPEAKER_00 16:16

That's my favourite. I will I will push the vote out.

SPEAKER_01 16:19

And it is clear. I mean, had it been a blue sky, it would have taken away from the purple, wouldn't it? Yes, exactly, exactly. That's very clever.

SPEAKER_00 16:25

That's wonderful.

SPEAKER_01 16:26

And I just want to say as well, because I'm about to leave, that um I don't know how we'd be able to introduce it in a way that was no segue, but Hedley and I were talking earlier about because I I don't know, maybe we're of similar ages, I'm guessing.

SPEAKER_00 16:38

Yes, I'm I'm uh I've just turned 50.

SPEAKER_01 16:42

Oh, just turned 50. I'm a little bit older, I'm your senior, so I'd like you to make sure bear that in mind. Okay. And um, we were talking about how to well, it's a bit like the theme of the whole podcast, how to find happiness, how to and we were talking about the importance of curiosity, and then you used a phrase which I loved, and do you remember it? Do you remember what you said? I don't remember. He said uh you said that you felt like you get to an age where you catch up with with yourself. That's right. You said and I just thought that was lovely. Thank you. And you I mean, as we haven't had a chance to talk much about you, are you should we end with just you saying, I don't know, how you feel about where you've reached with your life and all your projects?

SPEAKER_00 17:24

Yeah, I I lost my father three years ago and my mother's got dementia, so I'm kind of freshly without my parents, shall we say? And I think that up until then I hadn't heard I don't want to be morbid, but the ticking clock. And I'd suffered a little bit of imposter syndrome, you know, doing these exhibitions and everything. It didn't feel like it was me. But now I realise as you say, catching up with myself, it is me. And it's it's just you know, it's it's about dropping the inhibitions a little bit. Yeah. And just getting on with life. Because it's not a dress rehearsal.

SPEAKER_01 17:57

No.

SPEAKER_00 17:58

And and being at peace with yourself.

SPEAKER_01 18:01

And and you whatever you present is is you. Yeah. So yeah, if you if you if you judge.

SPEAKER_00 18:07

Whether you feel it is or not, it is.

SPEAKER_01 18:08

Yeah, that's the way it's a bit like I've never introduced myself ever as a podcaster, and the fact that you've been doing it has made me want to every time want to say, I'm not a podcaster.

SPEAKER_00 18:16

Well, I actually I should call you a broadcaster, it sounds better. No, no, no, no.

SPEAKER_01 18:20

It's just yeah, um, it's it's lovely to get to that stage, and it doesn't mean that life's easy, does it? But it just means that you can follow your not follow your dreams. How would you put it?

SPEAKER_00 18:31

Just follow yourself.

SPEAKER_01 18:32

Foll follow yourself. He's got a lovely way of putting things, yeah. Follow yourself and uh not feel that you have to please other people.

SPEAKER_00 18:40

No, exactly.

SPEAKER_01 18:41

For me, that's a big deal.

SPEAKER_00 18:42

Be kind to people but enjoy life.

SPEAKER_01 18:44

Yeah, no, exactly. It's been an amazing day. Yes. Really lovely. I've really enjoyed your company. So much so that I'm going to come and haunt you.

SPEAKER_00 18:52

Oh I've hawned away.

SPEAKER_01 18:55

And we're going to say goodbye and thank you to Hedley for that. And before I'll give him a hug off audio, as it were, so I'll catch up with you listeners later. Hello, hello, hello. It's half past four, and driving home along the M4, there was suddenly a sign for Laycock Village. Now I came here a long time ago in my drinking days with a husband, and we enjoyed the pub here, and I'm now back, and the light is doing its thing at my favourite time of day for photography when it just makes stones look so beautiful, and I what I like so much is just seeing all the different types of stone. So I'm taking some photos, and I think I need to become knowledgeable about stones because I think if I'm going to become more knowledgeable about churches and buildings, I need to understand what they're made of. I also find them very attractive, and I like the patterns that different groupings of them make. So, yeah, I think that's the way that the path I'm going down. And if I didn't have the children at home and other responsibilities, I would stay the night here because I there's a pub and I mean they they don't need me at home, they're old enough. I could just phone up and say that's what's happening, but I don't think that's the right thing to you to do, to you. Anyway, it's really beautiful here. There's a bench with no one sitting on it in memory of Brian Howell's Thanks, local historian who loved this village. Now, how nice was Headley. And you know what was lovely as well is it was going to that exhibition because it was a real reminder of how vibrant villages can be if there are points at which points where people can join in and get together, and it doesn't always have to be the par ball, the shop, or the church. Right, I've come to the abbey and I've got 15 minutes to get to the cloisters. And did they let me zip in uh without having to pay anything? No, they didn't, but that's fine because it's all going to the right for the right cause. So I'm zipping along the grass, and it's so beautiful. Daisies everywhere, dandelions everywhere, scotch pine. You often see Scotch pine near estates. People like planting them, and they're beautiful. I think they're one of my husband's favourite trees, and there are lots and lots and lots of wild garlic plants, which are which are so lovely. The kind of thing that ten years ago I wouldn't have recognised about teaching myself, and it's good to teach yourself, isn't it? You just learn more plants, learn more butterflies, learn more birds and then and trees, and then you'll get to enjoy the world around you more, isn't it? Because beauty is beauty, but it it gives you points of interest and points of curiosity and uh enables you to show off to people and say, Look, that's a red animal. No, we're already joking. Um I can see people taking pictures of pink blossom tree, but I'm gonna do that. Good idea, young man. The smell of the world garlic is uh really strong. You'd you'd have to like it, or I'd have to come very close to the Pink blossom tree. Wow, it's really amazing. It's in fact I'm gonna get its trunk in because it's so pretty. And that's exactly the kind of thing I do too often. I get distracted. So I only had 15 minutes to look at the cloister, and I've just spent three of those minutes taking photographs of the pink blossom tree, but I don't know. I think that's the way to live life, maybe. Who knows? I know it drives me, I it drives me mad at home because I'm doing the housework. I go into one room, start doing it, and then have to take something into another room. I take it into the other room, start doing it, have to take it into another room, etc. etc. Hopeless, absolutely hopeless. I've now arrived at the Abbey. What do you think of crenellations? I think I'm I'm I'm done with crenellations. Oh, it's just heavenly here. Little sheep in the background, the architecture's so wonderful. There's no reason why I can't just come back here next week and see more of it. I think I'm gonna do that because I've got to remember that even though I've got a puppy now, I can take puppy to these places as long as I'm outside. Okay, I'm now standing overlooking the beautiful luscious grass around Lacock Abbey. I can see the water, a glimpse of it from where I am. There are flies buzzing about. Apparently, the blue tits in particular love this time of year when it gets warmer and they can feed these flies to their babies, and they they they time the hatching of their chicks with the hatching of the flies, apparently, so that their babies are well fed. And I'm hoping I'm hoping you can hear in the distance the sound of the sheep. I'm gonna be quiet a minute so you can hear wild garlic, horse chestnut trees, trees in blossom, sheep, lambs, stinging nettles. A yew tree right in front of me. Now, wherever there's a yew tree, what do we know? There's also holly, so we've got the evergreens. Hello, and I'm sorry that that cut short yesterday. I had to race off to a cloister, and it was wonderful because there was a beautiful lady uh who told me she was studying architecture and actually no, apologies, archaeology, and she has to do lots of sort of apprentice apprenticeship work, including manning the cloister and manning different parts of Lake Ork Abbey. I think it's just about everyone digging in and helping out and realizing that there are lots of different parts of the job one needs to do in order to support projects and buildings and so on. Anyway, so she was about to lock the cloister, the the door that led to the cloister. I asked if I could go in and she was just really relaxed and let me go in and just smiled beautifully. I was just came across as the most lovely lady and with the most beautiful face, long brown hair, probably in her early twenties with her life ahead of her. I I sort of wanted to just I didn't say it because it would have been nutty, but I just knew that she had every reason to look forward to a lovely life, you know, apprentice, archaeologist, and really beautiful, smiling at people, looking relaxed, and I didn't envy her at all, but I I felt I don't know, maybe there's a word missing in our language, but I I I if I could have clicked my fingers maybe and and got stood in her shoes, would I have done it, you know, because she just seemed so happy about her what her life was all about. Anyway, I went into the cloister, had a wonderful time because I was the only one there, so I managed to take lots of photos that I think would have been very difficult for people normally to have taken because if they would have been full of people, it's such a popular place, partly because of the whole Harry Potter thing, which bores me rigid. It does bore me that people love all these places because of films and so on. Now it doesn't bore me that they do, I mean you know, it's up to people whatever they want to do. But it doesn't interest me, that's what I wanted to say. And it's now Monday night, and I am out with Scout and we're zipping about. And she still wants to say hello to everybody, but and because she's that bit bigger, people aren't exploding into oh, she's so wonderful, but they they still are looking with fondness towards her, which is lovely. And as I go past the abbey, I'm admiring the bits that have been cleaned. I wish I had had an opportunity to speak to the people who are here doing the work, but I suppose the last thing they'd want to do is be sidetracked because they they did seem very busy and focused, and it does look beautifully clean now. I'm standing where the rood is, but apparently is uh it is a Saxon rood, and it's all it's got for protection is uh two inches of uh lead flashing stretched out above it. Are you stuck? You haven't done your you haven't done a poo yet, have you? And I think I'll switch off in a minute and what is it, 28 minutes. So that gives me an opportunity when we go back to if you don't mind. I'd quite like to get through quite a lot. I would like to I'd like to find a quiet corner, have some elgreen tea, and I think we should do a couple of diary entries from Peeps. I think we should do a chapter of Villette. I think we should do a chapter of Barchester Chronicles. I think we should do some Saints. And Michelle gets sad when we get behind on Saints. And I also want to say Richard, if you're listening, I won't say your surname, but I haven't had an opportunity to go to the post office yet to pick up what you sent. So I'm going to I've made a note to do that tomorrow. I'm also hoping that finally I can send to the subscribers the parcels this week. I'll let you know when it's done. And I was also thinking of other ways to thank subscribers. So I've got a few ideas, I'm going to put a list together, but it includes, for example, the right to reply, you know, the right to expect to reply to your emails, the right to have your views about the podcast taken into account, and also, you know, unless you do it too often or it's all you or you send something a bit inappropriate, pretty much the right to have any sort of poem or that sort of thing read out. So yeah, I just want to make it a bit more worthwhile. It would be lovely to have some new subscribers. So if you're thinking of treating yourself to another podcast to subscribe to, and I know it all builds up, it would be good. It would be great to get to the point where the podcast is paying for itself, and uh we're not quite there in the sense that uh all the travelling I do, uh you know, I pay for, but then you know, the travelling gives me a lovely life, so it's not not a burden, but it it would be wonderful to have more of an income. So if any of you are interested, please do. But no pressure if you don't want to. I think one of the things that is really off-putting about modern modern life is the constant reminder about needing to pay for things and everyone seeming to want to do something for a profit. And I I don't want to get to the stage where I I make a profit, I just want to get to the stage where I can comfortably do what I enjoy doing, and so that I don't have to dip into husband's pocket money that I get enough of my own. And uh Scat's just seen someone she thinks looks interesting, so she's gonna go and say hello to him. Uh so I'll switch off now and uh catch up with you soon and look forward so much to doing the readings. I don't know why she wants to see you. I'm so sorry. Oh, I said oh you said you said hello. Just lovely you are. Yes, since you last saw her.

SPEAKER_00 31:34

I just remember it as being a bundle of gold. A bundle of adorable puppiness.

SPEAKER_01 31:39

So I didn't mean to record them, but I've decided to leave it because I think it's quite funny. What a sweet man. He just works locally, lives in Ludborne Road, and as I talk, a seagull is flying over and was temporarily lit up from below, and he's being followed by his friend. Come on, catch up, friend. And he's lit up from below as well with the lovely west setting west sun. And I'm sitting on Abbey Green, and if any of you ever wanted to come to Sherbourne to meet me, I'd be very happy to meet you for a cup of tea. And if you're a subscriber, what about this as a deal? If you ever came to Sherbourne, I would buy you a cream tea and would take you into the Abbey and spend half an hour or an hour with you walking around. How about that? And then suddenly I get millions of people from all over the world coming to see me. A stampede on a Cherbourne Green. And now, without any ado, we're chapter ten in Barchester Chronicles by Anthony Trollope, and the title of this chapter is Mrs. Proudie's Reception Commenced. I know it's shallow, but I like all the competitiveness between them. But I'm also hoping for maybe more descriptions of the church, but I don't know if Trollope's going to go in for all that. Let's go. The Bishop and his wife had only spent three or four days in Barchester on the occasion of their first visit. His lordship had, as we have seen, taken his seat on his throne, but his demeanour there, into which it had been his intention to infuse much hierarchical dignity, had been a good deal disarranged by the audacity of his chaplain's sermon. He had hardly dared to look his clergy in the face, and to declare by the severity of his countenance that in truth he meant all that his factotum was saying on his behalf, nor yet did he dare to throw Mr Slope over, and to show those around him that he was no party to the sermon and would resent it. He had accordingly blessed his people in a shambling manner, not at all to his own satisfaction, and had walked back to his palace with his mind very doubtful as to what he would say to his chaplain on the subject. He did not remain long in doubt. He had hardly doffed his lawn when the partner of all his toils entered his study and exclaimed even before she had seated herself Bishop, did you ever hear a more sublime, more spirit moving, more appropriate discourse than that? Well, my love the bishop did not know what to say. I hope, my lord, you don't mean to say you disapprove. There was a look about the lady's eye which did not admit of my lord's disapproving at that moment. He felt that if he intended to disapprove it must be now or never, but he also felt that it could not be now. It was not in him to say to his wife of the bosom, that Mr Slope's sermon was ill timed, impertinent, and vexatious. No, no, replied the bishop. No, I can't say I disapprove, a very clever sermon and well intended, and I dare say will do a great deal of good. This last praise was added, seeing that what he had already said by no means satisfied Mrs. Proudie. I hope it will, said she. I am sure it was well deserved. Did you ever see in your life, Bishop, hear anything so like play acting as the way in which Mr Harding sings the litany? I shall beg Mr Slope to continue a course of sermons on the subject, till all that is altered. We will have at any rate in our cathedral a decent, godly, modest morning service. There must be no more play acting here now. And so the lady rang for lunch. The bishop knew more about cathedrals and deans and precenters and church services than his wife did, and also more of a bishop's powers, but he thought it better, at present, to let the subject drop. My dear, said he, I think we must go back to London on Tuesday. I find my staying here will be very inconvenient to the government. The bishop knew that his proposal his wife would not object, and he also felt that by thus retreating from the ground of battle the heat of the fight might be got over in his absence. Mr Slope will remain here, of course, said the lady. Oh, of course, said the bishop. Thus, after less than a week's sojourn in his palace, did the bishop fly from Barchester, nor did he return to it for two months, the London season being then over. During that time Mr Slope was not idle, but he did not again essay to preach in the cathedral. In answer to Mrs. Proudie's letters advising a course of sermons, he had pledged that he would at any rate wish to put off such an undertaking till she was there to hear them. He had employed his time in consolidating a proudie and slope party, or rather a slope and proudie party, and he had not employed his time in vain. He did not meddle with the Dean and Chapter except by giving them little teasing intimations of the bishop's wishes about this and the bishop's feelings about that in a manner which was to them sufficiently annoying, but which they could not resent. He preached once or twice in a distant church in the suburbs of the city, but made no allusion to the cathedral service. He commenced the establishment of two Bishop's Barchester Sabbath Day schools, gave notice of a proposed Bishop's Barchester Young Men's Sabbath evening lecture room, and wrote three or four letters to the manager of the Barchester Branch Railway, informing him how anxious the Bishop was that the Sunday trains should be discontinued. At the end of two months, however, the bishop and the lady reappeared and as a happy harbinger of their return heralded their advent by the promise of an evening party on the largest scale. The tickets of invitation were sent out from London. They were dated from Bruton Street and were dispatched by the odious Sabbath breaking wet railway in a huge brown paper parcel to Mr Slope, everybody calling himself a gentleman or herself a lady within the city of Barchester, and a circle of two miles around it was included. Tickets were sent out to all the diocesan clergy, and also to many other persons of priestly note, of which absence the bishop, or at least the bishop's wife, felt tolerably confident. It was intended, however, to be a thronged and noticeable affair, and preparations were made for receiving the hundreds. We'll read it we'll leave it there. I love it now, do you? I wonder how you're getting on with it. It's now ten oh six, and I'm sitting up at the bar, which is where I used to start I started my podcast, and I like sitting here. I've got a silver pot, I've got so many teapots, I I just adore them. And I've got a little pretty jug, a white jug with blue flowers on it, a flowery cup that my sister and her wife bought me a couple of years ago. I've got a candle going, and I'd like to read a couple of entries from Samuel Peeps' diary. We're still in sixteen sixty three, but my friends were in December. Are you ready? December the second. My wife troubled all last night with the toothache, and this morning I up to my office were busy, and so home to dinner with my wife, who is better of her teeth than she was, and in the afternoon by agreement, called on by Mr Bland and with him to the ship, a neighbour tavern, and there met his antagonist, Mr Custos, and his referee, Mr Clark, a merchant also, and began the dispute about the freight of a ship hired by Mr Bland to carry provisions to Tangier, and the freight is now demanded, whereas he says that the goods were some spoiled, some not delivered, and upon the whole demands one thousand three hundred pounds of the other, and their minds are both so high, their demands so distant, and their words so many and so hosh against each other, that I one another that I fear we shall bring it to nothing, but however, I am glad to see myself so capable of understanding the business as I find I do, and shall endeavour to do Mr Bland all the just service I can therein. Here we were in a bad room which vexed me most, but we meet at another house next, so at noon I home and to my office till nine o'clock, and so home to my wife to keep her company, arithmetic, then to supper and to bed, she being well of her teeth again. He works long hard days, doesn't he? Fourth of December up pretty betimes, that is, about seven o'clock, it being now dark then, and so got me ready with my clothes, breeches and warm stockings, and by water with Henry Russell, cold and wet and windy, to Woolwich, to a hemp ship there, and stayed looking upon it, and giving directions as to the getting it ashore, and so back again very cold, and at home without going on shore anywhere about twelve o'clock, being fearful of taking cold, and so dined at home and shifted myself, and so all the afternoon at my office till night, and then home to keep my poor wife company, and so to supper and to bed. And let's finish on Lord's Day sixth of december, sixteen sixty three. Lay long in bed and then up and to church alone, which is the greatest trouble that I have by not having a man or boy to wait on me, and so home to dinner, my wife it being a cold day and begin to snow, the first snow we have seen this year, kept her bed till after dinner, and I below by myself looking over my arithmetic books and timber rule. So my wife rise anon, and she and I all the afternoon at arithmetic, and she has come to do addition, subtraction, and multiplication very well. Isn't that great? And so I propose not to trouble her yet with division, but to begin with the two globes to her now. Hm, so he's teaching not two globes, but to begin with the globes to her now. So he's teaching her geography, I guess. At night I to my office and spent an hour or two reading Rushworth, and so to supper home and to prayers and bed, finding myself cold to have some pain begin with me, which God defend should increase. And you'll be pleased to know that the seventh of December to tomorrow starts with up betimes, being a frosty morning. And we've got a lovely juicy feast day today. It's Cade Waller, who died six eighty nine, King of Wessex, from six five eight to six eighty eight, so thirty years, a descendant of Cale Calein, King of Wessex, and the Saxon Cade Waller, whose name indicates some British blood connection, became king by conquest. His notorious violence was to some extent tamed by Wilfred, to whom he gave three hundred hides of the conquered Isle of Wight. Oh yeah, that was awful. There was just massacre on the Isle of Wight. He was a successful ruler, but had abdicated in order to go to Rome and become a Christian. I remember him from last year. He was baptized on Holy Saturday, six hundred eighty nine, and given the name of Peter by Pope Sergius. Soon afterwards he was taken ill and died, still wearing his white baptismal robes. He was buried in the crypt of St. Peter's. That's incredible that he's there in St. Peter's, and his epitaph written by Crispus, Archbishop of Milan, is reproduced by Bede. There is no clear evidence of anything. Ancient liturgical cult, his reputed sanctity is accounted for partly by Bede's account of him, and partly by the belief that the sacrament of baptism remits all sins and makes the recipient if he commits no subsequent sin, worthy of immediate heavenly reward. He was the first of four Anglo Saxon kings to end his days in Rome. He was aged about thirty and died on the twentieth of April, very young. And of course Alfred the Great went to Rome as well. The whole pilgrimage to Rome, or I don't know if it was seen as a pilgrimage, but going to Rome was a real pull, wasn't it, for people after at those times. And I suppose the thing to remember is that we we had a Roman country, and it's difficult for us to know, uh, it seems like historians aren't agreed, how much of that sense there still was, but maybe there was a continuity permanently from when we became Romanized onwards, and the the Roman side of our country and the Anglo-Saxon side and the old Celtic side, you know, it all like uh st yarn tied together to make to make string or whatever the good analogy is. You can tell I'm tired, but you know, they were all side by side and it would have varied depending on what family you had, what part of the country, how you felt, what your loyalties were, how Christian you felt, etc etc The Anglo Saxon Chronicle AD nine to seven. This year King Athelstan expen expelled King Guthfrith and Archbishop Wolfhelm went to Rome. nine hundred two eight William took to Normandy and held it fifteen years so simply put nine hundred thirty one this year died Frithstan, Bishop of Winchester, and Brinston was blessed in his place. nine thirty two this year Bernstan was invested bishop of Winchester on the fourth day before the Calends of June, and he held the bishopric two years and a half. nine thirty three This year died Bishop Frithstan, and Edwin the Athling was drowned in the sea. nine thirty four this year went King Athelstan into Scotland, both with a land force and a naval armament, and laid waste a great part of it, and Bishop Bernstan died at Winchester at the feast of all saints. nine thirty five this year Bishop Elfie took to the bishopric of Winchester nine three seven This year King Athelstan and Edmund his brother led a force to Brumby and there fought against Anlaf and Christ helping, had the victory, and there they slew five kings and seven earls. And I'll finish there because there's a long entry for nine three eight, when there's lots of fighting and things that are difficult to follow with King Athelstan. And now my dear friends, we're reading chapter five Villette by Charlotte Bronte Turning A New Leaf My mistress being dead and I once more alone, I had to look out for a new place. About this time I might be a little, a very little, shaken in nerves. I grant I was not looking well, but on the contrary thin, haggard, and hollow eyed that sounds like me, I'm afraid, like a sitter up at night, like an overwrought servant or a placeless person in debt. In debt, however, I was not, nor quite poor, for though Miss Marchmont had not yet time to benefit me, as on the last night she said she intended, yet after the funeral my wages were duly paid by her second cousin, the heir, an avaricious looking man with pinched nose and narrow temples, who, indeed, I heard long afterwards, turned out a thorough miser, a direct contrast to his generous kinswoman, and a foil to her memory, blessed to this day by the poor and needy. The possessor then of fifteen pounds, of health though worn not broken, and of a spirit in similar condition, I might still in comparison with many people be regarded as occupying an enviable position, an embarrassing one it was, however, at the same time, as I felt with some acuteness on a certain day, of which the corresponding one in the next week, was to see my departure from my present abode, while with another I was not provided. In this dilemma I went, as a last and sole resource, to see and consult an old servant of our family, once my nurse, now housekeeper at a grand mansion not far from Miss Marchmont's. I spent some hours with her, she comforted, but knew not how to advise me. Still all inward darkness, I left her about twilight. A walk of two miles lay before me. It was a clear, frosty night. In spite of my solitude, my poverty and my perplexity, my heart nourished and nerved with the vigour of a youth that had not yet counted twenty three summers, beat lightly and not feebly. Not feebly, I am sure, or I should have trembled in that lonely walk, which lay through still fields and passed neither village nor farmhouse nor cottage. I should have quailed in the absence of moonlight, for it was by the leading of stars only I traced the dim path. I should have quailed still more in the unwanted presence of that which to night shone in the north, a moving mystery, the aurora borealis. But this solemn stranger influenced me otherwise than through my fears. Some new power it seemed to bring. I drew in energy with the keen low breeze that blew on its path. A bold thought was sent to my mind. My mind was made strong to receive it. Leave this wilderness, it was said to me, and go out hence. Where? was the query. I had not far to look. Gazing from this country parish in the flat, rich middle of England, I mentally saw within reach what I had never yet beheld with the bodily eyes. I saw London. The next day I returned to the hall, and asking once more to see the housekeeper, I communicated to her my plan. Mrs. Barrett was a grave, judicious woman, though she knew little more of the world than myself, but grave and judicious as she was, she did not charge me with being out of my senses, and indeed I had a staid manner of my own which ere now had been as good to me as cloak and hood of hodden grey, since under its favour I had been enabled to achieve with impunity and even approbation, deeds that, if attempted with an excited and unsettled air, would in some minds have stamped me as a dreamer and zealot. The housekeeper was slowly propounding some difficulties while she prepared orange rind for marmalade, when a child ran past the window and came bounding into the room. It was a pretty child, and as it danced, laughing up at me, for we were not strangers, nor indeed was its mother, a young married daughter of the house, a stranger, I took it on my knee. Different as were our social positions now, this child's mother and I had been school fellows when I was a girl of ten and she a young lady of sixteen, and I remembered her, good looking but dull, in a lower class than mine. I was admiring the boy's handsome dark eyes when the mother, young Mrs. Lee, entered. What a beautiful and kind looking woman was the good natured and comely but unintellectual girl become. Wifehood and maternity had changed her thus, as I have seen since them change others even less promising than she. Me she had forgotten, I was changed too, though not I fear for the better. I made no attempt to recall myself to her memory. Why should I? She came for her son to accompany her in a walk, and behind her followed a nurse carrying an infant. I only mentioned the incident because in addressing the nurse, Mrs. Lee spoke French, very bad French by and by the way, and with an incorrigible incorrigibly bad accent, again forcibly reminding me of our school days, and I found the woman was a foreigner. The little boy chatted voluably in French too. When the whole party were withdrawn, Mrs. Barrett remarked that her young lady had brought that foreign nurse home with her two years ago on her return from a continental excursion, that she was treated almost as well as a governess, and had nothing to do but walk out with the baby and chat of French with Master Giles, and, added Mrs. Barrett, she says there are many English women in foreign families as well placed as she. I stored up this piece of casual information, as careful housewives store seemingly worthless shreds and fragments for which their prescient minds anticipate a possible use someday. Before I left my old friend she gave me the address of a respectable old fashioned inn in the city, which she said my uncles used to frequent in former days. In going to London I ran less risk and evinced less enterprise than the reader may think. In fact, the distance was only fifty miles. My means would suffice both to take me there, to keep me a few days, and also to bring me back if I found no inducement to stay. I regarded it as a brief holiday, permitted for once to work weary faculties, rather than as an adventure of life and death. There is nothing like taking all you do at a moderate estimate. It keeps mind and body tranquil, whereas grandiloquent notions are apt to hurry both into fever. Fifty miles were then a day's journey, for I speak of a time gone by. My hair, which till later period withstood the frosts of time, lies now at last white under a white cap, like snow beneath snow. About nine o'clock of a wet February night I reached London, and remember her surname is snow. My reader I know is one who would not thank me for an elaborate reproduction of poetic first impressions, and it is well inasmuch as I had neither time nor mood to cherish such such, arriving as I did late on a dark, raw, and rainy evening in a Babylon and wilderness of which the vastness and the strangeness tried to the utmost any powers of clear thought and steady self possession with which in the absence of more brilliant faculties nature might have gifted me. When I left the coach, the strange speech of the cabman and others waiting around seemed to me odd as a foreign tongue. I had never before heard the English language chopped up in that way, however I managed to understand and be understood. So far as to get myself and trunk safely conveyed to the old inn whereof I had the address. How difficult, how oppressive, how puzzling seemed my plight. In London for the first time, at an inn for the first time, tired with travelling, confused with darkness, palsied with cold, unfurnished with either experience or advice, to tell me how to act, and yet to act obliged. Into the hands of common sense I confided the matter. Common sense, however, was as chilled and bewildered as all my other faculties, and it was only under the spur of an inexorable necessity that she spasmodically executed her trust. Thus urged, she paid the porter, considering the crisis I did not blame her too much that she was hugely cheated. She asked the waiter for a room. She timorously called for the chambermaid. What is far more, she bore, without being wholly overcome, a highly supercilious style of demeanour from that young lady when she appeared. I recollect this same chambermaid was a pattern of town prettiness and smartness, so trim her waist, her cap, her dress, I wondered how they'd all been manufactured. Her speech had an accent which, in its mincing glibness, seemed to rebuke mine as by authority. Her spruce attire flaunted an easy scorn at my plain country garb. Well, it can't be helped, I thought, and then the scene is new and the circumstances I shall gain good. Maintaining a very quiet manner towards this arrogant little maid, and subsequently observing the same towards the parsonic looking black coated, white neck clothhed waiter, I got civility from them ere long. I believe at first they thought I was a servant, but in a little while they changed their minds and hovered in a doubtful state between patronage and politeness. I kept up well till I had partaken of some refreshment, warmed myself by a fire, and was fairly shut into my own room, but as I sat down by the bed and rested, my head and arms on the pillow, a terrible oppression overcame me. All at once my position rose on me like a ghost. Anomalous, desolate, almost blank of hope it stood. What was I doing here alone in Great London? What should I do on the morrow? What prospects had I in life? What friends had I on earth? Whence did I come? Whither should I go? What should I do? I wet the pillow, my arms and my hair with rushing tears. A dark interval of most bitter thought followed this burst, but I did not regret the step taken, nor wish to retract it, a strong, vague persuasion that it was better to go forward than backward, and that I could go forward, that a way, however narrow and difficult, would in time open, predominated over other feelings. Its influence hushed them so far that at last I became sufficiently tranquil to be able to say my prayers and seek my couch. I had just extinguished my candle and lain down when a deep, low, mighty tone swung through the night. At first I knew it not, but it was uttered twelve times, and at the twelfth colossal hum and trembling now I said, I lie in the shadow of St. Paul's Goodnight.