New sheet of paper! Well not actually but have not much to say on my computer. Listened yesterday to the person who wrote 'My Beautiful Laundrette'. He had a fall somewhere abroad and is now incapacitated in all his limbs, but still blogs every day, his children help.
I spin, glorious colours, that start out light and fluffy merino and then turn a darker shade. Whilst doing that I listen to people telling me things. You may ask do I believe them? No but I love being introduced to all the information that flails round this world.
Yesterday it was John Billingsley about 'Journey's Between the World' on Academia. He writes about the corpse paths that takes the occupants of the moors to their final resting place in the burial ground of the church.
He plots the paths, a bit like the Romans, who stood on a high piece of land and looked straight ahead and then had built straight as a die roads. But of course the moors are not like that, boggy and wet, up and down, it would have been difficult for several men to carry a heavy coffin.
He calls this space in time a liminal journey, (I was in that liminal space between past and present) an explanation of the word. To me, always in search of that liminal space, call it what you will, but I shall use Sense of Place to give it a name. Landscape which can only come into being because it has been given stories of its topography. So in this land fairies, boggarts and giants will dance with the stones and throw them great distances, till slowly as history develops the villages and towns, characters also become part of the scenery. Then of course we learn not to bury bad people in these hallowed graves in the church yard, but in subliminal places, like at the cross roads or under a great tree. Their wickedness forever underlined by the naming of this spot. So that over time we learn to dread such places.
But enough of that, I can hear the geese coming from their night's rest to go down to their daytime home in the canal, where they might get enough food.
And today's listening? Christianity Before Conversion. One of the fascinating studies in this country, is seeing the emergence of Christianity through the Saxon settlers in this country. Their burials reflect the changeover from pagan to Christianity.
Haworth cemetery
Some good listening there. I remember reading about Corpse Roads across Dartmoor, and how, if someone died in the depths of winter deep out in an isolated farm, they might be stored (!) in a barn until the weather allowed the coffin to be taken for burial. Poor pregnant Kitty Jay, buried at a crossroads out on the moor, who had taken her life in desperation. Every time I have visited, there are flowers on her grave and I always left some wildflowers too.
ReplyDeleteI have decided Jennie to learn more of this side of the country, West Yorkshire and try to slot its history into my mind.
ReplyDeleteI remember at the little cottage in Whitby, a 'coffin drop' in a cupboard in the bedroom. The stairs were too steep and tiny to get a coffin down.