15th September 2023

Saint Caedmon's Cross.  Victorian of course.

Well my daughter arrived back yesterday evening. Slightly panicking that no one would open the door.  She rang my phone three times, and I tried to answer it, but even when I press the green sign it never opens up.  Remember the bad old days?* tring-tring in the corner of the landline phone, pick up, say your number, and then you had a conversation.

Pick up my mobile. Password please firstly. I have put facial recognition on it as well but often the little bugger will say 'face not recognised'. As if.

Technology is so wired up! And we are expected to conduct our money transactions on it, for crying in a bucket.... Anyway I let her in, and she had bought Swiss chocolate bars back and had a good time.

I notice some bloggers are off to the land of university learning, something I admire but won't be doing, my brain is saturated as it is, it doesn't want anymore facts and learning curves, it needs REST.

But if I had to go to university, my choice would be old languages.  I have always loved the Saxon(old English) poetry that has come down in various forms.  The following is 'Caedmon's poem.  A poem made by a farm hand at Whitby Abbey, it came to him in the night.  This is the 11th century Saxon below;

Nu we sculan herian / heofonrices Weard,

Metodes mihte / and his modgepone,

weore Wulderfaeder; / swa he wundra gehwaes,

ece Dryhten. / ord onstealde.

He aerest gesceop. / eordan bearnum

heofen to hrofe, / halig Scyppend;

oa middongeard / moneynnes Weard,

ece Dryhten, / aefter teodefirum foldan, / frea aelmihtig.  

English translation: Although to be honest the above is English as well.

Praise now to the keeper of the kingdom of heaven,

the power of the creator, the profound mind

of the glorious father, who fashioned the beginning

of every wonder, the eternal lord.

For the children of men he made first

heaven as a roof, the holy creator.

Then the lord of mankind the everlasting shepherd,

ordained in the midst as a dwelling place,

almighty lord, the earth for men.

This 7th century Christian poem, said to be the first, may of course be one of the stories that Whitby Abbey manufactured to bring in the pilgrims.  It is also said, that the Abbess  Hilda, threw the snakes over the side of the cliff.  But of course weren't snakes but the ammonites frozen in time in the rock face of the cliffs.

Time to move Caedmon’s Cross? | The Heritage Trust (wordpress.com)