tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5873009918100574338.post1998515001342425539..comments2024-02-05T09:17:53.322-08:00Comments on Adrian Barlow's blog: Bedford: Betjeman: BunyanAdrian Barlowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04526714501872493961noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5873009918100574338.post-72372248844800152762012-10-03T06:50:16.909-07:002012-10-03T06:50:16.909-07:00There may be a "one nation" calling for ...There may be a "one nation" calling for you, Adrian, with the task of reclaiming England's many besmirched towns. Your first test is to attempt a reverse-Betjeman on Slough....<br /><br />Funnily, enough, I arrived at the line "But barely is..." in your poem, and thought "Larkin"....Anilhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07297710417543760428noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5873009918100574338.post-34902205635260900952012-10-02T13:10:30.882-07:002012-10-02T13:10:30.882-07:00Ah, you make me think so much of Wordsworth:
So t...Ah, you make me think so much of Wordsworth: <br />So through the darkness and the cold we flew, <br />And not a voice was idle; with the din <br />Smitten, the precipices rang aloud. <br />The leafless trees and every icy crag <br />Tinkled like iron; while far distant hills <br />Into the tumult sent an alien sound <br />Of melancholy not unnoticed, while the stars <br />Eastward were sparkling clear, and in the west <br />The orange sky of evening died away. <br />My own memories of Bedford are of driving down the A1 for a party at the house of a family whose parents had been refugees during the war and were either friends or relatives of a classmate whose parents were Hungarian and apparently of aristocratic stock. It was a one-off, but everytime I drive up the A1 past Bedford I think of that night. There was blue smoke in the air too. Early seventies. Maybe no later than '73. Garry Headlandhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/07741556616880181278noreply@blogger.com