Some strolls have a destination. And so it was on the day we crossed the park by Harlem Meer at 110th Street, wandered by the chrysanthemums in glorious bloom in the Conservatory Garden and on to the Met Museum for its “World War I and the Visual Arts” exhibit. It’s a great exhibit. So much to see and so much to wonder…
There’s a comfort in routines and familiar sounds. Some towns have a noon whistle. If you’ve lived near a school or a factory you’ll know a routine. If you’re close to a children’s playground you can tell the time of day as it fills up with voices when school gets out. My childhood had the Swindon railway works steam hooters to…
BBC’s Radio 4 first tweet for 2014 was a thrush with a bright blue sky background and a quotation from The Darkling Thrush – a poem that Thomas Hardy dated December 31st, 1900. It’s all rather grim and gloomy. The poem records the desolation of winter, the dregs of the day and the end of the century. This is no…
In Memory of Lance Corporal Frank Herbert Sims. Royal Army Medical Corps who died on 28 January 1919 Age 34 Son of Albert John and Rosa Sims, of Streatham, London; husband of Frances Sims, of 115, Strathyre Avenue, Norbury, London. Father of Edith and Kathleen. With the a brief two hour exception last Friday, I have never worn a poppy. This…
This July marks the ninetieth anniversary of the start of third Ypres – better known as the battle of Passchendaele . It was an offensive designed to break out of the stalemate of the salient – the bump in the line that bulged around the Flemish town of Ieper, known in French as Ypres and to the thousands of English…