Maddie Grigg

Today is World Poetry Day

Years ago, I was shortlisted for a poem in the internationally-acclaimed Bridport Prize competition.

To be honest, it wasn’t very good but it was a pleasing accomplishment because poems aren’t really my thing. This is probably because, despite studying them quite closely, I find them tricky to analyse, decipher and I always get a bit flustered with the rules.

It’s silly really, because I love the poetry in many song lyrics – I’m thinking Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, Ian Dury. I adore those lines in National Express by the Divine Comedy about the jolly hostess and her large behind…

Here’s one of my favourite Joni Mitchell numbers.

If that isn’t poetry, I don’t know what is.

I think perhaps it’s because I’ve studied poetry closely for a creative writing degree that it’s reinforced my natural – and lazy -resistance to anything that requires me to think rather than just imbibe through natural osmosis.

So I need to cast off the hang-ups and fear of getting it wrong and just enjoy poetry for its lyricism, rhythm, cadence and imagery. I should just go with the flow and embrace the sheer joy and beauty in hearing or reading a great poem.

So, on World Poetry Day, tell me – what are your favourite poems?

I like the Spike Milligan one about the worm:

Today I saw a little worm, wriggling on his belly. Perhaps he’d like to come inside and see what’s on the telly.

I like The Voice by Thomas Hardy. I like anything written by Christina Rossetti. I like this one by William Butler Yates:

He wishes for the cloths of heaven

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

But come to think of it, my favourite poem is Ithaka by Greek poet C P Cavafy. I saw somewhere that it was read at Jackie Kennedy’s funeral in May 1994.

Here it is read by the wonderful Sean Connery with music by Greece’s own Vangelis. Cheesy but profound.

That’s about it.

Love, Maddie x

Bouncing into spring

When does spring begin?

It’s so confusing, even when you look it up, because there are different ‘types’ of spring – meteorological spring, astronomical spring and even phenological spring. Who knew?

Meteorological spring is already here. It began on 1 March, following the tried and tested formula of three months per season – so December, January and February are winter months, March, April and May are in spring…and so on.

It makes sense and is easy to remember.

But the date of astronomical spring changes slightly each year due to the orbit of Earth around the Sun. This year the spring equinox is tomorrow – Friday, 20 March, when the night and day are of equal length.

EDIT! I’ve just seen this on a new BBC story: In the UK, 12 hours of daylight and night time comes a few days before the equinox – the equilux. Here’s the link.

As if we’re not confused enough already!

But, in a previous article, the BBC points out: you may also want to consider phenology – the behaviour of plants and animals in response to the changing weather and climate – as another marker for the start of spring.

And, to cap it all, the clocks spring forward an hour on the last Sunday in March, meaning that British summer time begins.

Spring, summer, shrug of the shoulders, I don’t think any of mind too much as long as the weather is better and the days are longer.

So a happy spring equinox to you all – here’s to a positive adjustment to our internal equilibrium.

That’s about it.

Love, Maddie x

Dorset is beautiful

We’re part way through English Tourism Week.

You might not have known this, as most ‘weeks’ begin on a Monday and finish on a Sunday.

But being English, and maybe a bit eccentric, this official week, which shines a spotlight on all the lovely things on offer for the tourist in England, started last Friday (13 March) and runs through until this coming Sunday, 22 March.

Most weeks last seven days, but this one goes on for 10 days.

I don’t know why but I’m assuming it’s because the dates incorporate two weekends, which gives visitors more time to time to explore this beautiful country of ours.

And, despite the naysayers and doom mongers, England is a beautiful country and, when you think of the rubbish going on all over the world, we’re very lucky to live here.

Yes, it has its faults (where doesn’t?) and the weather can be a bit iffy, but all the beauty of this earth is right on – or not far from – our doorsteps.

Here in the south west, we’re blessed with a wonderfully long and varied coastline, and the most sumptuous hinterland anyone could wish for.

It’s the season when daffodils are in full bloom, the primroses are lining the grassy banks, the birds are chirruping and excited about the arrival of spring. And it won’t be long before the trees will burst forth with green leaves and the damp, grey winter is long forgotten.

According to the Visit Britain website, tourism is one of England’s largest, most valuable industries, supporting hundreds of thousands of small-to-medium sized businesses, over two million jobs and generating about £127 billion annually for the economy.

And Dorset is no exception.

“Our visitor economy is vital – it sustains vibrant rural and coastal communities and contributes £1.73 billion to the Dorset economy while supporting 30,000 jobs,” says Dorset Council leader Nick Ireland.

As an interloper from Somerset, I’ve been in Dorset for the past forty-four years. And despite travelling here, there and everywhere, there’s nowhere I’d rather be than here, hidden away and tucked under the radar in Lush Places.

Happy Mothering Sunday

By Mary Cassatt – Painting, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=4667747

Here’s to mothers past and present and mothers-to-be on this special Sunday.

It’s the first year without my mother. But I was blessed to have her in my life for many, many years, as she lived to a ripe old age.

We always used to take Mum out for a meal on Mothering Sunday. It’s a lovely way to say thank you, a good excuse for a celebration and a great way to support the struggling hospitality trade.

It was also a wonderful get-together with my siblings. Still, there’s nothing to stop us doing that at any time.

But Mother’s Day always gave us the focus to get on and organise something. And we always were able to do it weeks – or months – ahead.

This year, I’m going for a lovely pub roast with Number One Daughter and family. I’m very much looking forward to it.

Mind you, if I hadn’t been invited, we would probably be right here in Lush Places, where the community pub will be busy today with guest chef Tom and his sister.

Three years ago, their special menu went down a treat. And I can vouch for that because I was there with my late mother.

Have a great Sunday and a lovely week.

Love, Maddie x

Three blue bottles*

I changed over my handbag at the weekend, thinking that spring might be here. It wasn’t.

But things must be looking up because I found a £20 note in one of the pockets.

So I went to Crewkerne to the Antiques Bazaar, a wonderful emporium of eclectic bits and pieces sold by a collective of traders.

Over the years, I’ve bought some lovely items here but, sadly, the place is closing down, so there were plenty of bargains to be had.

I found a trio of Old England jugs in a vivid blue and, because they were half price, I swooped like the eager eagle I am when it comes to things like this.

Once home, I put them where I thought they would look right, but they stuck out like three blue sore thumbs.

And then I found the perfect spot, on the ledge of an internal window, sandwiched between three bottles of blue-coloured water. (The middle one is a vintage apothecary jar I bought many years ago at an auction of items from a former Bridport pharmacy.)