Gwaith 25 (Catch Up): Remembrance Day and March, York, 2016

Hi Everyone

A few days after my visit to Bridge and my experience of Bonfire Night (see my last post), I arrive in York to research the dark ages history of the place for my novel.  The morning after my arrival, I walk into the city to grab some food before my explorations. I pop into a bakery and stand in line to buy some Chelsea Buns, for which I had developed a taste while in Wales. Suddenly, all noise stops as the shop radio announces the two minutes of silence for Armistice/Remembrance Day. I stand with my head bowed and think about my nephews, one currently serving in the Navy and two recently discharged from the Army, and of my father, who was in the RAAF during World War II. For the rest of the day, my thoughts keep returning to them and what I know of their experiences, and in the evening I draft a poem. Below are the opening lines of the final version, which was published a few days ago in Eureka Street (and can be read here):

In a bakery in York, I stand silent

With other customers for two minutes,

Think of nephews who have served

And seen action, some still serving

On land and on water, some bearing

The costs of their service in bad knees,

Hard hearing, scars in hidden places,

And think also of you, my father…

Two days later, Sunday, 13 November 2016, I am walking through the city on my way to the train station for my trip back to Wales. I notice people are gathering on the bridge over the Ouse. Babes in prams. People wearing everything from their Sunday best to work clobber. Tourists with cameras. A security presence.

View of the River Ouse from the bridge

I ask an army press officer near me what’s happening. It turns out there is a march through the city every year to celebrate Armistice Day/Remembrance Day and then a laying down of wreaths at the war memorial in a park near the banks of the Ouse. I am ahead of schedule for catching my train, so I decide to stay and watch. Below are photographs of the occasion. (I tried to get one of each of the different services/units, but am not sure of their names. Any suggestions would be welcome.)

The head of the march 

Army? 

Paras?

RAF

Army?

Royal Navy 

Police

Marines? 

Military Police? 

Other veterans

The wreath laying at the memorial

The lowering of military colours

Smoke from the gun salute near the end of the ceremony

Much of the crowd stayed around after the ceremony, to share in the memories evoked and to give thanks, but I had to get to the railway station. I was glad to have seen the march and the wreath-laying and so pay my respects to those, like my nephews and those of my father's generation, who had given something of themselves in the service of their country.

As always, I welcome your comments, especially if you’d like to share some of your own Remembrance Day memories.

Best Wishes

Earl

Various Announcements

Hello Everyone

On Saturday, 5 February 2016, I attended the Melbourne launch of Yeats 150, a book of essays and poems celebrating the 150^th anniversary of the birth of the great Irish poet William Butler Yeats. The event was held at that renowned Melbourne literary venue Collected Works Bookshop and the book was launched by Hon Luke Donnellan M.P., a lover of Irish literature and friend of the editor Declan Foley. The launch speech paid homage to Declan’s efforts in promoting Yeats in Australia and overseas. In response, Declan gave a wide-ranging talk about Yeats and the various family members who influenced and supported the great poet in his endeavours, much of this knowledge previously being unknown to many in the audience.

Dedicated to Seamus Heaney, the book is divided into a number of sections including Academic Essays; The Plays; The Yeats family; Scholarly Essays; W B Yeats Poetry Prizes; and, appropriately, the town of ‘Sligo’ (influential for Yeats’s development), by Sligo natives and visitors to the International Yeats Summer School.

Contributors include former Yeats Summer School Directors Helen Vendler, Denis Donoghue, James Pethica and Ann Margaret Daniel, as well as Patrick J Keane, Deirdre Toomey, Yeats Annual editor Warwick Gould, publisher Colin Smythe, professor and director of Otago University, New Zealand, Peter Kuch, Tokyo professor Tomoko Iwatsubo, biographer Ann Saddlemyer, and critics Lucy McDiarmid and Martin Mansergh. I am thrilled to be included in such illustrious company with a personal essay about my own experiences at the Summer School in 2009.

For those Yeatsians amongst you, copies of the book can be obtained at Collected Works if you live in Melbourne or through Book Depository.

In even more exciting news, I have been accepted for another residency at Stiwdio Maelor in Wales. My residency will be split into two parts, the first from early September 2016 to early October and the second from early November to sometime in January 2017. During the intervening period, I intend to visit friends in Wales, Scotland, and England and conduct more research for my novel. I also plan to visit family in Washington, USA, on my return flight.

Last week I finished my second draft of the novel (which currently stands at 154k words), but the story and the writing still have a long way to go to match my vision for the book. Thus, the residency will be a chance for me to spend undistracted time on the project, with the aim of creating a completed draft that I can submit to publishers. As I did with my previous trip, I will blog about my experiences over there, specifically the three W’s: Writing the novel, Walking the landscape and practicing my Welsh language. (I know, I know, I still haven’t finished the last trip L I plan to do so as soon as possible.)

I am enormously grateful to my wife Jo for encouraging me to take this time off to write, research and visit friends and family. I couldn’t do this without her support. In all likelihood, the trip will be my last solo escapade in Britain. The next time I go it will be with Jo, so we can share the places we both love, both in the UK and over on the continent.

Some of you might remember that in 2015 The Morning Bell crew interviewed me about my last trip to Wales. Early this year they invited me back, this time to talk about how some literary writers are adopting genre conventions for their own use. We based much of the conversation on The Buried Giant by Kazuo Ishiguro. Also, during the podcast we discussed the latest Star Wars film, The Force Awakens. If you are interested in either of these topics, you can listen to the podcast here.

That’s it for now. As always, I hope you’re enjoying these posts and I welcome any comments.

Cheers

Earl

Social Media News

Hi Everyone

Apologies if you've already heard the news, but I've been featured in two social media events in the last couple of weeks.

The first is a podcast for The Morning Bell, a quarterly journal and blog set up by ex-students from the Professional Writing & Editing course at Box Hill TAFE. When the course was closed by the institute in 2013 (a mistake in my opinion and also in the opinion of other teachers, students and prospective students), the annual anthology, Avant, also folded. However,  a group of graduates saw a need for a publication that would continue to help emerging writers and so revived the anthology in a new incarnation. These passionate and innovative writers and editors have published two issues, which are in digital format, though the first issue was also published in print. I encourage you all to have a look at the journal, subscribe if possible, and submit if you are an emerging writer.

In the podcast we discuss film, TV, writing and my time in Britain, especially my eight-week residency in Corris. To listen to the podcast, go to iTunes or Podcast Garden. If you like what you hear, check out the other podcasts, which feature a number of fantastic writers, editors and bloggers, including Michael Pryor and Helen Milte.

Recording the podcast at The Brunswick Street Bookstore (from The Morning Bell website)

The second social media event I participated in was an interview for the blog of another ex-student. Elizabeth Corbett did the PWE course a few years ago and has been blogging about her experiences as a writer and as a learner of Welsh language (we actually bumped into each other at a class and so renewed our acquaintance).

Elizabeth and I are both writing novels wholly- or partly-based in Britain and using Welsh mythology, though the time periods for our projects are centuries apart. In the interview I discuss my residency in Wales, my sense of Britain as a spiritual home, and the concept of 'mythic realism', especially in regard to the novels of Alan Garner.

You can read the interview here.

I hope you enjoy these offerings. Any comments are welcome.

Cheers
Earl

Cyfaredd 6: The Italian House

Haia Pawb (Hiya Everyone)

In an earlier blog post I talked about literary associations in and around Bridge, where I had stayed for a few days. When I arrived in Corris, I wondered what sort of literary associations I would find. Given I'm staying in Wales, the home of the bards, there must poets and poems and tales touching all parts of the landscape. What I found surprised me.

On one of my walks, I wandered past a property and did a double take. Concrete and brick structures representing different Italian buildings and architecture styles filled the gardens. I didn't get a chance to wander around the place, as it isn't open to the public, but below are some photos taken from the road:

Wilfrid Owen 'homage'

A E Housman 'homage'

Close up of the A E Housman

The last three photos comprise my 'hit' of literary association for the town so far. The constructions seem to be reproductions of gravestones for Wilfred Owen and A E Housman; if not reproductions, then some sort of homage to the two poets.

The reproduction villas, plazas and towers, the crenelated walls (using bricks showing the markers names), the tombstones (if that;s what they are), were built by a local man, Mark Bourne. He had visited Italy in the 1980s and been inspired by the architecture to produce his own versions.

The proper has passed into other hands since Mr Bourne's death, but I haven't heard if his 'folly' will be maintained and opened to visitors sometime in the future.

By the way, just a couple of corrections and additions to previous posts:

1.  A good friend pointed out that in my previous post the hawthorns were in fact blackthorns.
2. I have placed a link in the post on Alan Garner to the publication of his speech.

I hope all is well in your parts of the world. And for those who told me they liked my jackdaw photos, here's another one:

Until next time.

Pob Hwyl
Earl

Cyfaredd 1: Visit to Bridge

Hi Everyone

Now that I have settled into my residency at Stiwdio Maelor in Corris, North Wales, I thought it time to report on my first few days in the UK, where winter is verging on spring.

Crocuses, one of the first signs of spring. 

Before I do that, just a word about the title of this posting. I have now been to this part of the world four times: to the USA, UK, Ireland and Europe in 2007 (with Jo); to the Yeats Summer School in Sligo, Ireland, in 2009; to England, Wales and Scotland in 2013, for a conference and for research; and now to the UK again, to visit the same three countries. As some of you know, I handwrite all my first drafts, whether of poems, stories, articles or memoirs, and then enter them into the computer afterwards. Whenever I’ve typed up the notes and journal entries for my previous trips I’ve given the project a name. The one I’m using for this trip is the Welsh word for enchantment, cyfaredd. I feel this word sums up what I hope to experience in England, Wales and Scotland as I work on the next draft of my novel, continue to research settings, and re-connect with what I see as my spiritual homeland.

Gracie (Mrs G), Simon and Lise's cute cat    

Now for my report. I arrived at Heathrow early on the morning of Thursday, 5 March, and headed straight down to Canterbury, then on to the little village of Bridge to stay with friends for a few days. I suffered a little from jetlag, but the many walks and inspiring conversations I had with Simon and Lise over-rode any tiredness I felt.

Unlike where I live in Melbourne, I can leave the house at Bridge and within a few minutes I am in the country. The one thing I like about walking in Britain is the use of right-of-ways. People have been walking alongside and across fields for centuries and it is illegal for farmers to block such common law tracks. And so we walked across fields filled with the song and ascending flight of skylarks—the first time I had ever heard or seen them—and past other fields where the first lambs hobbled on thin legs as they chased after their mothers and once there knocked at the teats to get a drink. Walking by another field, we watched a kestrel hover high above, waiting patiently for something small and tasty to make a sudden dash to safety. And at another field we saw a young fox break out from scrub, its square-like head (or so it seemed from our perspective) out of proportion to its red, black and white lean body.

One of the surprises about Bridge is the number of esoteric, literary, artistic, and historic associations either in the village itself or in surrounding areas. The co-designer of the Rider-Waite Tarot, A E Waite, lived his last years in the village and was buried in a nearby graveyard. Joseph Conrad lived for a time in the ‘Oswalds’, a house not far from the village. At the pub The Duck in Pett Bottom (what a wonderful name, though not as vivid as Lynsore Bottom), Ian Fleming wrote You Only Live Twice. And the sculptor Henry Moore lived for six years in a house in nearby Kingston.

The house in Bridge where A E Waite lived his last years.

The ‘Oswalds’, where Joseph Conrad once lived.

The Blue Plaque on the wall of The Duck.

The Blue Plaque for Henry Moore.

Given that one reason I am in this country is to experience the historic and mythic landscape I wish to evoke in my novel, Bridge also offered appropriate omens. Just outside the town is Old England’s Hole: a hollow in the landscape that is reputedly the site of the last battle between the British and Caesar. Naturally enough, it really should be called Old Britain’s Hole, the English (Angles, Saxons, etc.) not arriving on these shores until several hundred years after Caesar’s time. And nearby is a ridge that holds an Anglo-Saxon cemetery.

Old England's Hole. You can just see the lip of the hole.

The ridge that is the site of the Anglo-Saxon cemetery

A movie I took of the location of the 'hole' and the cemetery.

That’s about it for now. I hope you enjoyed this little tour of Bridge and environs. Any comments would be most welcome.

Pob hwyl (Welsh for ‘Bye’)

Earl