I sat down at 11.15 to write the daily blog. I then started answering comments, reading a couple of blogs, looking something up on Wikipedia, and before I knew where I was it was another day and my target of daily blogging was, again, in tatters.
However, I did read about Sang Culture on Billy Mann’s Blog and a guest post about dustmen on Derrick Knight’s Blog. Both were worthwhile exercises. There is just so much to do and so much to read. Derrick mentioned Sandy Denny in one of his comments and I looked her up on Wiki. I knew she’d sung with Fairport Convention and was well thought of, but that’s as far as it went. My knowledge of many subjects, including music is patchy and I need to top it up. It sems she sang a song called Fothringay and performed in a group called Fotheringay. The song is about Mary Queen of Scots and her captivity in Fotheringhay Castle. Note the spelling. I did write about Fotheringhay a year or two back. Twice. I thought I’d have a listen to the song as I’m in the process of writing about Fotheringhay. It’s probably about time I finished it and sent it to an editor. However, having listened to Sandy Denny’s version I have to say mine still needs some work.
That, I’m afraid, reminds me that I have work to do. Some would call it writing, or enjoyment, but I call it work. This may mean that I don’t have a proper appreciation of proper work, but it may equally mean that those who consider it sitting down typing don’t appreciate the real effort of writing. I mention no names here, but the discussion hinged round the lack of housework I did over the Bank Holiday.
The top photo is the church at Fotheringhay, the last resting place of several members of the House of York, including the Second Duke (killed at Agincourt in 1415). The 3rd Duke of York is buried there too, with his son Edmund – both killed at Wakefield in 1460. The 3rd Duke is the father of two Kings – Edward IV and Richard III.
Nature reduces to rubble anything man has built. The feelings you experienced at Fotheringhay are common in such places. The normal man only has receptors for and experiences in 3 dimensions, mathematics and physics describe more. Who knows what s left after death and for how long? That is beyond our ken and ability to measure.
Thanks for the links!
Yes, the ambitions of Kings and Queens have certainly been cut down to size here!
Thank you for the spelling check. I would have undoubtedly got that wrong. I am sorry to hear about the lack of housework causing a problem. Some nameless people obviously don’t realise what being a poet’s muse brings with it in terms of protecting the poet from stress and rubber gloves.
Rubber gloves! Ugh!
Thanks for the mention, Quercus, and the further information you found.
🙂 hanks for the initial link.