I am tired of England, Of Winston and sixty-six, Less a nation than a default setting, No thing stands for it. Welund made a spinning top, gifted it a godling, Older than the fall of Rome, the ambitious youngling, Wound in all the kingdoms with a cord around the core. Nineteen twenty-one, point placed, Nineteen forty-seven, twine tugged, Nineteen fifty-six, spinning, Nineteen ninety-nine, spinning. In a small souvenir shop standing in York, Flat caps and roses, Keyrings and sweets, Where a Brigante sat watching her fire, Wake-addled and weary, Her child would not sleep, Shopkeeper stops, Sentence unsaid, Hearing. Elmet, Bryneich, Dere. Headshake and smile, She slips back to work, Blue paper bag for a postcard and pin. In gritstone towns, And North Sea bays, We turn off the telly, With tired disgust. To live, A land must have three things: A shape, People, And a dream. I am tired of England, No longer dreaming.
Br. F- As a yank I don't understand all the references, but I am all in with you in spirit.
I hope you are well. -Jack
p.s. Have I yet mentioned my brother works--for the machine, alas--up your way? It's quite a long shot, but maybe there is a pint and some actual conversation. If I could ever get over and up that way. In the meantime, the virtual world will have to do.
Sometimes I think that being an expat (British in France) gives me the best of this country, without its sadness. Still, it feels like home now and that’s enough, even if I’m only bobbling along on the surfaces of the culture.
Tis a sentiment echoed round the world I’m afraid.
Br. F- As a yank I don't understand all the references, but I am all in with you in spirit.
I hope you are well. -Jack
p.s. Have I yet mentioned my brother works--for the machine, alas--up your way? It's quite a long shot, but maybe there is a pint and some actual conversation. If I could ever get over and up that way. In the meantime, the virtual world will have to do.
Sometimes I think that being an expat (British in France) gives me the best of this country, without its sadness. Still, it feels like home now and that’s enough, even if I’m only bobbling along on the surfaces of the culture.
Excellente
This is stunning.