Gelli Fach

Gelli Fach

I'm a cell, I'm fragmented, I change my form;
I'm a repository of song, I'm a dynamic state.
I love a wooded slope and a snug shelter,
and a creative poet who doesn't buy his advancement.

Wyf kell, wyf dellt, wyf datweirllet;
wyf llogell kerd, wyf lle ynnyet.
Karaf-y gorwyd a goreil clyt,
a bard a bryt ny pryn y ret.

From: Legendary Poems from the Book of Taliesin, edited and translated by Marged Haycock

Sunday, 9 November 2014

Gladstone Diary - a week at Gladstone's Library


I'm staying at Gladstone's Library for a week on a personal retreat for the 3 'R's - Reading, Writing and Resting, plus some Contemplation, Conversation and a little gentle Exercise. It's the first time for about 15 years that I've been away for so long and it feels luxurious and exciting. I thought I'd try to write a post a day...

After breakfast, it being such a beautiful morning in spite of the forecast, I decided to go for a jaunt. I noticed a crowd standing around the gate at the front lawn and going to investigate found out it was an outdoor service for Remembrance Sunday, around the War Memorial.

(This needs editing but I don't have the software yet. I'm not even sure if it will play properly - blogging on the iPad seems a bit limited.)

I can't stand for very long so after a while I turned back and sat underneath Gladstone's statue. It was a poignant moment listening to the Last Post unfolding mournfully across the clear November sky, Gladstone surveying the proceedings with his usual hawkish stare.

Later I went to the Park to sit awhile among the autumn trees.

I think the sheep must have been rubbing themselves against the bench because white tufts of their wool lay on the grass like foam. I gathered some and found it unusually fine and soft. I'll use it to line Brigit's Bed on the eve of her day, 31st January.

After all that I settled in for a quiet afternoon reading and listening to the serialisation on Radio 4 of T. H. White's Once and Future King. I fell asleep half way through...

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