Coming home

On 25th November the troops came home to Abingdon from Iraq and Afghanistan. Whatever is felt about war in general and in particular, they deserve a welcome and gratitude.

Ashmolean Museum

I went briefly to the Ashmolean in Oxford, newly refurbished and quite amazing. As time was limited, I spent most of it gazing, mouth open, at the new layout and the staircase and the open freedom of it all - quite spectacular. A few exhibits caught my eye but I shall be going back to look at those in less haste. I was fascinated by the room with the pictures of people who had worked on the refurbishment, concertinaed on the floor.....need oh so much more time to look at this place at leisure.....

Wittenham Clumps

When my daughter and grandchildren came to visit from abroad, we had a full schedule of events, and a list was on display and tickets jumping excitedly in a drawer. On one day I had written 'spare day - maybe go and fly kites at Wittenham Clumps'. This caused hilarity as they thought I had made it up and there was no such place. As it happens, we never did get there, but I gave them a postcard of this lovely pen and black ink over graphite done by Paul Nash, called 'The Wood on the Hill' (Wittenham Clumps). Since then I have also had a weak moment and bought a lino print by Susan Wheeler. They are both so utterly different, yet to me they both in their way capture some of the magic of the place. There is a poem tree there, which I am ashamed to say I have yet to visit. However, I did find the sight of Didcot Power Station in the distance a bit depressing and so did a little poem of my own, for what it's worth:

Wittenham Clumps

The cluster of beeches
is motionless;
the silhouette branches
long for the wind
to let them
scribble warnings
in the sky, while

beyond woven fences
like linked arms
and fringed wings of kites,
the blood-red sky
slashes across
the fat grey throats
of the cooling towers
chain-smoking
and coughing
like consumptives.