Meanderings … toward the kitchen

Back in March 2009 I launched ‘Meanderings through my cookbook’ as a place to keep the occasional recipes I posted on this site, plus the many more that needed to go on record before they were lost, forgotten, or their books returned to the library or a friend.  I have already transferred the recipes and other food related information from this site and have put in links on those pages.  

Lots of visitors have already ‘meandered’ across to my new site – please pay my kitchen a virtual visit if you have not done so already!  I am also posting a monthly update for the new site. (Read Meanderings ‘à la carte’) 

I will now be making occasional rather than regular posts here on the ‘narrow way’.  This explanatory note will stick at the top, with newer entries appearing below.  I will continue to moderate the site.

Time’s Paces (Lines on a Clock in Chester Cathedral) – Henry Twells

Hans Holbein the Younger - The Ambassadors (1533 )

Time’s Paces (Lines on a Clock in Chester Cathedral)

When as a child, I laughed and wept,
Time crept.
When as a youth, I dreamt and talked,
Time walked.
When I became a full-grown man,
Time ran.
When older still I daily grew,
Time flew.
Soon I shall find on travelling on -
Time gone.
O Christ, wilt Thou have saved me then?
Amen

Henry Twells (1823-1900)
(Poem fixed to the front of the clock-case in the North Transept of Chester Cathedral)

A note on The Ambassadors by Hans Holbein the Younger
The picture with this painting may, at first glance, seem an unusual choice but it depicts very well the unseen advance of time.  The Ambassadors pose in their fine robes and surrounded by the musical and scientific instruments, globes, books and oriental carpet yet, apparently unseen in front of them is a mysterious shape.  Viewed from one side this is clearly seen as a skull, the reminder that time marches on and unseen death waits for everyone.  This may seem gloomy but Christian faith brings the promise of the future hope of salvation in Jesus Christ, something that Twells acknowledges in his verse.

2011 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2011 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

The Louvre Museum has 8.5 million visitors per year. This blog was viewed about 110,000 times in 2011. If it were an exhibit at the Louvre Museum, it would take about 5 days for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

BC : AD – U A Fanthorpe

A VERY HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL MY READERS

Giotto di Bondone (1267-1337) Adoration of the Magi

BC : AD

This was the moment when Before
Turned into After, and the future’s
Uninvented timekeepers presented arms.

This was the moment when nothing
Happened. Only dull peace
Sprawled boringly over the earth.

This was the moment when even energetic Romans
Could find nothing better to do
Than counting heads in remote provinces.

And this was the moment
When a few farm workers and three
Members of an obscure Persian sect
Walked haphazard by starlight straight
Into the kingdom of heaven.

U A Fanthorpe (1929-2009)
Ursula Fanthorpe is one of my all time favourite poets and this poem is my favourite of her Christmas poems,  although it was a difficult choice.  I hope to add more of her poems in the future.

Giotto witnessed an appearance of Halley’s Comet in 1301 and in his painting Adoration of the Magi, The Star of Bethlehem is shown as a comet above the child.

Advent 1955 – John Betjeman

Pieter Brueghel the Elder - The Numeration (Census) of the People of Bethlehem (1566)

Advent 1955

The Advent wind begins to stir
With sea-like sounds in our Scotch fir,
It’s dark at breakfast, dark at tea,
And in between we only see
Clouds hurrying across the sky
And rain-wet roads the wind blows dry
And branches bending to the gale
Against great skies all silver pale
The world seems travelling into space,
And travelling at a faster pace
Than in the leisured summer weather
When we and it sit out together,
For now we feel the world spin round
On some momentous journey bound -
Journey to what? to whom? to where?
The Advent bells call out ‘Prepare,
Your world is journeying to the birth
Of God made Man for us on earth.’

And how, in fact, do we prepare
The great day that waits us there -
For the twenty-fifth day of December,
The birth of Christ? For some it means
An interchange of hunting scenes
On coloured cards, And I remember
Last year I sent out twenty yards,
Laid end to end, of Christmas cards
To people that I scarcely know -
They’d sent a card to me, and so
I had to send one back. Oh dear!
Is this a form of Christmas cheer?
Or is it, which is less surprising,
My pride gone in for advertising?
The only cards that really count
Are that extremely small amount
From real friends who keep in touch
And are not rich but love us much
Some ways indeed are very odd
By which we hail the birth of God.

We raise the price of things in shops,
We give plain boxes fancy tops
And lines which traders cannot sell
Thus parcell’d go extremely well
We dole out bribes we call a present
To those to whom we must be pleasant
For business reasons. Our defence is
These bribes are charged against expenses
And bring relief in Income Tax
Enough of these unworthy cracks!
‘The time draws near the birth of Christ’.
A present that cannot be priced
Given two thousand years ago
Yet if God had not given so
He still would be a distant stranger
And not the Baby in the manger.

John Betjeman (1906-1984)

In Flanders Fields – John McRae

Postcard bought at Arras when returning from holiday in France - July 2011

Le Légende du Coquelicot/The Legend of the Poppy

In Flanders Fields

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead.  Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw *sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

John McCrae (1872-1918)
[*spelling error in postcard reads sundet - should be sunset]

Dans les champs de Flandres

Dans les champs de Flandres les coquelicots sont en fleurs
Entre les croix, rang par rang
ça marque notre place, et dans le ciel
Les alouettes, chantent toujours bravement, volent
Rarement entendues par les fusils en bas.

Nous sommes les Morts.  Il y a peu de temps,
Nous vivions, sentions le crépuscule, regardions le soleil couchant
Aimions, et étions aimés, et maintenant nous sommes allongés
Dans les champs de Flandres.

Admets notre dispute aven l’ennemi;
Pour toi de nos mains blessées, nous jetons
Le flambeau à ton tour de relever
Si tu n’as pas confiance en nous qui sommes morts
Nous ne dormirons plus, bien que les coquelicots poussant
Dans les champs de Flandres.

(Translator unknown – copied from the postcard)

The story behind the poem…
Lieutenant Alexis Helmer, a Canadian artillery officer, was killed by an exploding shell on 2 May 1915 during the Second Battle of Ypres in the First World War.  He was a friend of the Canadian military doctor Major John McCrae.  John was asked to conduct the burial service as the chaplain had been called away on duty elsewhere. It is believed that later that evening John began the draft for this famous poem ‘In Flanders Fields’.  Other sources including the postcard, date this poem to 1916, though this could have been the date of publication rather than of writing.

Other translations of this poem into French can be found online: two can be found here jcdurbant.wordpress.com plus another in the comments.

If you liked this poem you might also enjoy …
High Flight – John Gillespie Magee, Jr. (1922-1941)

October’s Party – George Cooper

Gustav Klimt - Beech Forest

October’s Party

October gave a party;
The leaves by hundreds came.
The Chestnuts, Oaks and Maples,
And leaves of every name.

The Sunshine spread a carpet,
And everything was grand,
Miss Weather led the dancing,
Professor Wind the band.

The Chestnuts came in yellow,
The Oaks in crimson dressed;
The lovely Misses maple
In scarlet looked their best.

All balanced to their partners,
And gaily fluttered by;
The sight was like a rainbow
New fallen from the sky.

George Cooper (1838-1927)

The Spider’s Web (A Natural History) – E B White

October web - Pleshey Retreat House, Chelmsford Diocese - photo: ©hopeeternal

The Spider’s Web (A Natural History)

The spider, dropping down from twig,
Unfolds a plan of her devising,
A thin premeditated rig
To use in rising.

And all that journey down through space,
In cool descent and loyal hearted,
She spins a ladder to the place
From where she started.

Thus I, gone forth as spiders do
In spider’s web a truth discerning,
Attach one silken thread to you
For my returning.

E B White (1899-1985)
Author of Charlotte’s Web, one of my favourite childhood books

I wondered if E B White had written any other poems but although I can find reference to a book called Poems & Sketches there appears to be no other E B White poetry available online.  Please could you leave a comment if you know of any.
Thank you
h/e.

Sea Fever – John Masefield

Fishing Boats at Sea - Vincent Van Gogh

Sea Fever

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way, where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

 John Masefield (1898-1967)

Fishing Boats at Sea - Vincent Van Gogh

Spike Milligan wrote:
“I must go down to the sea again,
the lonely sea and the sky:
I left my vest and socks there -
I wonder if they’re dry?”

Tour de France 2011

Thought I had better add a note here about the 2011 Tour.  This year I will be away on holiday for almost the entire race, though sadly we are not going to be near any of the stages on the days they are taking place.  We will just about be back in time to see the final stage which as usual ends in Paris on the Avenue des Champs-Élysées.  This means that I will not be adding my usual Tourists Guide to the Tour information (usually a good place to remind myself of places I have seen on TV that look worth a visit), so apologies to anyone who comes here for that … perhaps I will be able to resume this in 2012, unless we are away at the same time.

Meanwhile, here is the 2011 TDF route map.  all of whom we hope will be racing this year though the teams have yet to be announced.  The teams have yet to be announced, but we hope we will be able to cheer along some of the following British or British linked riders: Mark Cavendish, Bradley Wiggins & Geraint Thomas, David Millar plus newcomer Ben Swift - and also British Team Sky.  Of course we will be trying to follow the race in French when we can have access to a TV - always a challenge, but fun as well!

… its now all over for another year.   It was fascinating to see references to the tour as we passed through France: a few decorated roundabouts and billboards waiting for the tour to pass … watching one or two winners cross the line on the large campsite TV (even though it was in Spanish) … signs of the course being set up for the day after as we drove back through Limoux, with the Français des Jeux team vehicles waiting by the side of the road … spotting the Team Coaches for BMC and Moviestar outside hotel Kyriad in Carcassonne, also on our return journey and wondering if anyone famous was using the beds we had slept in on our outward journey!

Well done Mark Cavendish on winning the green points jersey – and poor Bradley Wiggins to have to retire with a broken collarbone when he was so well up in the rankings.

Now looking forward to the start of the 2012 Tour with the Grand Départ from the Province of Liège on Saturday 30 June.

Poem for Holy Week

 

will I lay my cloak before you,
when they arrest you on olive mountain,
or pull it tighter around me,
fading into the ranks of the deserters;

will I shout
‘Blessed is the one who comes
in the name of the Lord!’
when they parade you
before the authorities,
or will I tell any one – and every one – around me
I never met you in my life;

will I lay my palm branches at your feet,
as they march you to Calvary,
or use them to put more stripes
on your bloody back;

will I run behind you
when they carry you to the tomb,
or turn away
as the ashes of my hopes
are rubbed into the
wounds in my heart?

Author Unknown
Source

Pictures – Jesusmafa