Tales From The Crypt - Tuesday 15th November 2022

I've detected a pattern over the years I've been writing this blog.  I've noticed that every Tuesday I don't have much to write here, and, not only that, the lack of words written here carries on until Friday.  Why is this? I think we should be told.

I'll be wrapped up in work today (a clue?) with the usual consequence.

This week's poem is 'Western Wind' written by that old favourite, Anon.  Strictly, it's a lyric to be sung rather than a poem, but hey! It is believed to have been written in the early 16th century (though some think the words may date back to the 14th century) and for the fun of it I've presented it here in both medieval English and a modern translation. It is very brief, but has always struck a chord with me.

Westron wynde, when wyll thow blow

The smalle rayne downe can rayne?

Cryst yf my love were in my armys,

And I yn my bed agayne!

Western wind, when will thou blow,

The small rain down can rain?

Christ! If my love were in my arms,

and I in my bed again!

Continuing the historical theme, I watched a documentary recorded from Channel 5 tonight. It may have been on Channel 5, but it wasn't about Hitler, WWII or Princess Diana but was instead a documentary about the Great Fire of London. Not only that, it was rather good and I only recorded it because it was recommended in one of the Sunday papers, otherwise I'd never have noticed it in the schedules.  The programme shared recent archaeological discoveries, and though I've yet to to finish it (it was quite long), my knowledge has been greatly increased.  Blow western wind indeed.

To sleep via Q and I's regular chat.

Cathal Coughlan / 'Tangerine' / 'EP of Co-Aklan' (EP)

[[This would have been more appropriate on Halloween, I guess, however the darkness of the skies, the rain and the general air of gloom seem to call for this.  As always, lyrically literate and involving.]]