I’ll be heading into town to meet a famous Catholic journalist for lunch.
If my energy holds, perhaps later in the evening someone might like to meet for a pint.
People may SMS me (don’t send MMS): 07501852559
If I decide for a specific place, I’ll post it, perhaps under this entry.
In the meantime… not… this won’t be about coffee for a change… here is an appropriate poem.
“Martinmass” by John Clare written on 11 Nov 1841.
‘Tis Martinmass from rig to rig
Ploughed fields and meadow lands are blea
In hedge and field each restless twig
Is dancing on the naked tree
Flags in the dykes are bleached and brown
Docks by its sides are dry and dead
All but the ivy-boughs are brown
Upon each leaning dotterel’s head
Crimsoned with awes the awthorns bend
O’er meadow-dykes and rising floods
The wild geese seek the reedy fen
And dark the storm comes o’er the woods
The crowds of lapwings load the air
With buzes of a thousand wings
There flocks of starnels too repair
When morning o’er the valley springs
