Art, Books, RattleBag and Rhubarb

The View from the Room

It was pleasant to wake up in Florence, to open the eyes upon a bright bare room, with a floor of red tiles which look clean though they are not; with a painted ceiling whereon pink griffins and blue amorini sport in a forest of yellow violins and bassoons. It was pleasant, too, to fling wide the windows, pinching the…

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Education, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

After great pain, a formal feeling comes

It’s graduation season and across the land schools are saying goodbye to students and students are moving along and into the next phases of their lives. It’s all very heartwarming and etc. I usually couldn’t wait for them to be over.  All that dressing up and ceremony and sitting and waiting in uncomfortable chairs. At least at the dentist you…

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RattleBag and Rhubarb

Bench Warfare: Satanic Panic on the Rail Trail

A favorite place for a walk is the Hudson Valley Rail Trail. There’s at least one stretch north of Hopewell Junction that is regularly infested with religious messages of fear, doom and  gloom. Eternal damnation is predicted for us all. The trail starts at the old railway depot at Hopewell Junction and connects with the Walkway Across the Hudson in…

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Education, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Celebrating a Trevor Class and a Teacher Retirement

Just a few pictures of very lovely evening at Trevor Day School. Great appreciation to all who helped make this reunion celebration so successful. It was good to be back among Trevor folk and to catch up with so many people. And congratulations to the ever wonderful Diane Tisman, head of the world languages department, who has been an extraordinary…

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Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb, WW1

Who was May Herschel Clarke?

It started with a tweet from yesterday morning: So off to google where I found the same inaccurate one-line biography pretty much everywhere, including Wikipedia.  May Herschel-Clarke (1850–1950) was an English poet. She is chiefly known today for her Anti-War poems Nothing to Report and The Mother, the latter of which was published in 1917 as a direct response to Rupert Brooke‘s famous poem The Soldier.…

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Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb, WW1

The BWIR, Mutiny and the Men of Taranto: No Parades

Update: 15 October 2020 I’ve heard from Lyn who is the Project Lead for ‘Away from the Western Front’. ‘No Parades’ was commissioned by them as part of their First World War centenary project. The project was funded by the Heritage Lottery Fund in the UK and accordingly, they were able to commission Chris Hoban to compose this song for…

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Politics, RattleBag and Rhubarb

The Pentrich Martyrs and Peterloo

I was intrigued when I discovered that I am distantly related to the last person beheaded in England. The year is 1817 and the place Derbyshire. Isaac Ludlam was one of three men executed at Derby gaol. His head was cut from his corpse and shown to the thousands in the crowd. This was not a story handed down in…

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Education, RattleBag and Rhubarb

This is the Nazi Library

I think it must have been Ann Klotz’s quite lovely post that did it. It’s about her office and her work as a head of schooI and I read it yesterday.  “Mine is a wonderful, complicated, fascinating job,” she writes in her reflections on her days and on the fourteen years of a headship. You can read My Office, Myself…

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Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb, WW1

For The Sake Of Example: The story of Pvt. Herbert Morris of the BWIR

 They had all watched him die, in a foreign landA warning to others from the High Command. Forfeits medals (sentenced to death).  Sentence Duly carried out. This grim notation is in the UK, WWI Service Medal and Award Rolls, 1914-1920 entry for Private 7429 Herbert Morris of the 6th Battalion of the British West Indies Regiment.  Amid all the cruelty,…

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Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

#SherlockPoems and Nostalgia: Claude McKay and D.H. Lawrence

I’ve been looking for a particular poem for a while now. When someone used the hashtag #SherlockPoems in a Twitter conversation I posted my inquiry. The poem I remember – but can’t find – is about a market stall heaped with glowing and colorful tropical fruits. It was used in a GSE exam paper sometime in the 1970’s. I didn’t…

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Art, Books, Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb, WW2

Falling Wall

I began this post in 2017. The original focus was Louis MacNeice’s’s poem “Brother Fire”. MacNeice was a fire-watcher during the London Blitz which meant that he spent nights on rooftops watching for, and reporting, fires caused by incendiary bombs. The poem expresses a human kinship with the destructive power of fire:  O delicate walker, babbler, dialectician Fire, O enemy…

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Politics

Diversity is Our Strength, Unity is Our Power

One Plays Chess, the Other Checkers Nancy Pelosi does serious politics and toddler management 101. Trump watches Fox.  As everyone knows – the lying bully-in-chief who – wanting to erect a pointless, ineffective and vastly expensive monument to himself on the southern border – was thoroughly defeated and out-maneuvered by Nancy Pelosi. She demonstrated the political will. Transportation workers delivered the coup…

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Poetry, RattleBag and Rhubarb

W. H. Auden and New York

Eighty years ago today – on January 26th, 1939 – the poet W.H.Auden – accompanied by his friend and sometime lover Christopher Isherwood – stepped off the boat and arrived in New York City. It wasn’t their first visit. They had spent two happy weeks in the city in 1938, arriving by train from Vancouver on their way back from…

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Education, Food, RattleBag and Rhubarb

Sticky Learning and the Dumbing Down of Exams

Do you remember what you were doing on the 22nd of June at 9.00am? I do – at least for the year 1964 because that was the date of the University of London GCE “O” level exam in Biology.  I am seated in a single desk in one of many rows in a packed but silent school assembly hall. I…

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