Another Adelstrop moment

On Saturday H had to drive to Deddington, just outside Banbury, to pick up a consignment of the CD he has been involved in, made by an Italian harpsichordist.  We went by the scenic route as the weather was super and M could be left glued to Wimbledon (we're making the most of last week and this, as you can imagine).  Passing a signpost to Adelstrop, we couldn't, of course, just drive on by.
We found the bus shelter with its GWR bench and plaque of the poem as I described here.  It was absolutely deserted.   Reading the poem we realised that the timing, late June, was perfect, no-one came and no-one left, just we two, at the junction of two country roads on a beautiful June afternoon.  And did the blackbird sing?  Yes, a single one at first, then another answering then a chaffinch and others joining in.  Quite magical.

Deddington proved to be a lovely village full of yellow stone houses.  The church has an interesting history as it once had a spire that collapsed.  I found this gargoyle on the church quite strange - I assume it's a monkey:

it's paired with this rather despondent eagle, who looks much too weary to fly anywhere, let alone up to heaven!

I've managed, by the way, to complete quite a few of the tasks on my list in my post  of 12th June.   I did meet up with Judith, and spent a lovely relaxing hour or so in her interesting garden.  Hopefully, we can get together again soon (when you've got over the ladies lunching, Judith).  

I finished off two small cardigans for the newly arrived twins, who turned out to be two little girls,  finished reading all the Peter Wimsey I had set myself - with much enjoyment as always, sent the parcel to Ira in Berlin, and had a lovely day with my daughter at the Three Counties show.

 I also accompanied H to three organ recitals, had lunch out at Mac and Jac's in Worcester (well worth a visit if you're ever there, especially for their Bakewell tarts), and took M to Tewkesbury for the morning.  

I haven't got the art material out, or looked at any UFO's or done more than think about some other projects, but Those will still be there when it's pouring with rain and freezing cold.  At the moment the attitude here  is definitely seize the day (or carpe diem if you prefer - gathering rosebuds* as we go, as Wimbledon doesn't last forever!)  This week we hope to go to Cardiff, someone is coming to 'service' H's virginals, and there's the small matter of 100 cds to sell - anyone for harpsichord music?

* Love Herrick's poems but my favourite has to be this.

An Adelstrop moment

Adelstrop

Yes.  I remember Adlestrop —
The name, because one afternoon
Of heat the express-train drew up there
Unwontedly.  It was late June.

The steam hissed.  Some one cleared his throat.
No one left and no one came
On the bare platform.  What I saw
Was Adlestrop — only the name

And willows, willow-herb, and grass,
And meadowsweet, and haycocks dry,
No whit less still and lonely fair
Than the high cloudlets in the sky.

And for that minute a blackbird sang
Close by, and around him, mistier,
Farther and farther, all the birds
Of Oxfordshire and Gloucestershire.

EDWARD THOMAS 1878-1917

I've always loved this poem.  I can remember train journeys by steam train when I was a small child -the whoosh and huff of the engine, the steam billowing out behind, and the agony of getting a smut in your eye. One particular trip we did in summer always involved a mysterious stop at a country station for what seemed like no particular reason at all. 
It was in my mind this morning when I opened the bedroom window  and looked across the Severn Vale to the Cotswolds bathed in early morning sunshine.  I don't think the bird I heard singing was a blackbird - more likely a chaffinch, but suddenly birds were singing away into the distance.  I tried to catch the sound and sight on my camera, but sadly it won't upload, so you'll have to imagine that one magical sound and others joining in across the wide landscape, and not only no planes but not even the sound of a car to bring in the 21st century.
We're right in the area beloved of the Dymock poets - Dymock itself is only about 12 miles away.  Its other, more recent claim to fame is as the home of Stinking Bishop cheese, made by Charles Martell with milk from the rare Gloucester cattle which he and other local enthusiasts have revived from near extinction in the early 1970's, though they are still 'at risk'.  Adelstrop is further away, near Stroud. Thomas was travelling from Oxford to Worcester, it was 1914 just before the outbreak of World War One, he never visited Adelstrop again. He died in France in April, 1917.  Adelstrop station was closed in 1966 (as, sadly were many others nationwide).  The bench and the sign are all that remains - a plaque on the bench quotes the poem.

Trains still make mysterious unfathomable stops in quiet abandoned looking stations, despite all Dr Beeching's efforts some still exist, and although we no longer have the hiss of steam, we still have blackbirds and willow-herbs and golden moments - and long may they continue.