Repetition, reiteration, recurrence
You know, I'm not even sure it's the delight of discovering new things in the previously enjoyed: I think sometimes if you enjoy a thing, it can become a reliable source of repeated and recurrent enjoyment, though this is personal idiosyncratic and are not headphones a wonderful invention so that we do not infuriate other people by playing some much-loved piece of music over again?
Do you love doing the same thing over and over? Here's why it doesn’t make you boring.
(Some of us might argue that the constant search for new and exciting experiences and the never-done-before doesn't, in itself, make anyone interesting.)
And on places that, do admit, do not immediately look spectacular, this week's 'Let's move to' tackles Romney Marsh, and, one might argue, doesn't even begin to do it justice - e.g. a lot more literary connections than get mentioned there, at least if you include the people who lived in the places at the periphery, such as Rye. There is a charming poem, In Romney Marsh by the 90s poet John Davidson:
As I went down to Dymchurch Wall,
I heard the South sing o'er the land
I saw the yellow sunlight fall
On knolls where Norman churches stand.
And ringing shrilly, taut and lithe,
Within the wind a core of sound,
The wire from Romney town to Hythe
Along its airy journey wound.
A veil of purple vapour flowed
And trailed its fringe along the Straits;
The upper air like sapphire glowed:
And roses filled Heaven's central gates.
Masts in the offing wagged their tops;
The swinging waves pealed on the shore;
The saffron beach, all diamond drops
And beads of surge, prolonged the roar.
As I came up from Dymchurch Wall,
I saw above the Downs' low crest
The crimson brands of sunset fall,
Flicker and fade from out the West.
Night sank: like flakes of silver fire
The stars in one great shower came down;
Shrill blew the wind; and shrill the wire
Rang out from Hythe to Romney town.
The darkly shining salt sea drops
Streamed as the waves clashed on the shore;
The beach, with all its organ stops
Pealing again, prolonged the roar.
Other literary connotations: Russell Thorndike's 'Doctor Syn' and I don't know if any of my dr rdrz read in their youth Monica Edwards' stories set in and around Romney Marsh, and involving the smuggling history of the area (recently reissued by Girls Gone By. Less of the peaceful Impressionism invoked by Davidson! This entry was originally posted at https://oursin.dreamwidth.org/3032176.html. Please comment there using OpenID. View
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