Twenty years ago I was studying a Wilfred Owen poem at school, with no mention of Rupert Brooke. Fortunately for me, my prep school English teacher had been more enlightened and less constricted by the national curriculum, and had introduced us to a selection of war poems.
I was watching a programme the other day which mentioned Rupert Brooke - can't remember why - and announced that he had died in battle. I was pretty sure this was incorrect so checked, but I bet a lot of people didn't. Ah BBC, how art thou fallen!
Sir Roy Strong
anonymous
October 7 2011, 07:54:02 UTC
I am a Roy Strong fan, too. Yes, he comes over as a bit more then precious at times, somewhat affected, but I love him, warts 'n' all. I have The Laskett, and his history books The Story of Britain and The Spirit of Britain (as well as other smaller books) but my favourite is still his collection of pieces originally written for Country Life and entitled A Country Life. This was published in the 1980s but it could be read just as easily today. It is in sections, Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter and the 'Winter' section is my comfort reading for winter. He talks about baling the fountain and all visitors must come in by the back door as the front is heavily curtained. How like Sir Roy to mention "baling a fountain" just as if it's something we all do! But a great chap, a wonderful historian and spokesperson for the arts in Britain.
I love everything you write, but this piece may just be the best, the most 'brilliant' (as you might say!) ever. Sometimes it just feels like your thoughts are in my head. I don't understand it, but there's such an affinity. Like I told you once, if we had been girls in high school or the English equivalent, we would have been walking down the halls laughing together. When we were first in England, I think what struck me was that here was this country that held Wordsworth, and Carnaby St., and fashion, and green, green meadows all at once. I'm not expressing this well, but that's what I love about it. Manchester and Abbotsbury. Rupert Brooke and Agatha Christie. Soccer 'enthusiasts' and little stone churches. It is all of a piece, and deeply loved by this woman so far away.
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I was watching a programme the other day which mentioned Rupert Brooke - can't remember why - and announced that he had died in battle. I was pretty sure this was incorrect so checked, but I bet a lot of people didn't. Ah BBC, how art thou fallen!
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Very impressed by the reading poetry with your daughter. Lucky girl!
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Flanders & Swann expressed this best, of course.
The timeless rural idyll view of England has its own TV Trope, Christie Time.
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Oh I love Christie Time, what a great idea. Funnily enough I have one of her books lined up to read soon.
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When we were first in England, I think what struck me was that here was this country that held Wordsworth, and Carnaby St., and fashion, and green, green meadows all at once. I'm not expressing this well, but that's what I love about it. Manchester and Abbotsbury. Rupert Brooke and Agatha Christie. Soccer 'enthusiasts' and little stone churches. It is all of a piece, and deeply loved by this woman so far away.
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I've just read a review of the book trashing it and Sir Roy, quite unfairly, I thought.
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