Showing posts with label Ozymandias. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ozymandias. Show all posts

17 January 2022

Nothing Beside Remains

 Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.....



The ruins of St James's Church, Bawsey


I'm not here to talk about current affairs, and I don't (usuallydo politics..... It's almost precisely twelve months since we moved to Norfolk.  Tempus fxxxit, n'est-ce pas? And in that time how has the world crumbled? 



Castle Acre Priory

I mean, only the other day, I met a traveller from an antique land,

Who said to me 

Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . 

Really? I said,

Near them, on the sand, he said, 

Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Yes.....?  It does remind me of someone.....

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;

You know, I really don't wish to get involved in politics, if you don't mind.....

And on the pedestal, these words appear:
My name is Bozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. 

Are you somehow being ambiguous? I asked.  I certainly do despair, but perhaps for the wrong reasons?  Is this the sort of place you had in mind?



Castle Rising

Well....  He said: Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Bozymandias 
Percy (Pfeffel) Shelley




St Margaret's Church, West Raynham


Which somehow made me think of that old joke; What's the difference between Henry VIII and Boris Johnson?

And? I hear you squeal.  They were both born catholics, had six wives (some mistake? Ed.), and destroyed the health service (perhaps not quite what the dissolution of the monasteries was meant to do, but I take your point, Ed.)....  What is the difference?



St Margaret's Church, West Raynham

Henry VIII didn't think he was Winston Churchill.....

That's not a joke!

Too right it isn't.....  Boom, bloody Boom!

Anyway, as I was saying, Norfolk is full of ruins, and I have come to feel at home in them (and around them.....)


Steam Trawler Sheraton, St Edmund's Point, Old Hunstanton

Steam Trawler Sheraton, St Edmund's Point, Old Hunstanton

It isn't just churches, and castles. There are traces of past industry, like this decaying jetty at Snettisham, from which shingle was loaded onto transports to be taken across the Wash to Lincolnshire for the WW2 airfields....




And then there is this flag that hangs in All Saints, Burnham Thorpe, a memento of the violent death of Admiral Lord Nelson, who was born there, son of the Rector....




But decaying ruins abound. This is Baconsthorpe Castle, for two hundred years until 1650 the home of the Heydon family, (well known for their contributions to the Tory Party).....




And this is an image of the remains of Castle Acre Castle, a Norman fortress on a significant mound....




Not to be confused with Castle Rising castle, which, although Norman, was probably not designed as a building with a military, defensive nature, but which became the residence of  Queen Isabella, widow (and alleged murderess) of Edward II......





When all is said, and done, however, the majority of ruins around here had some religious significance.  One of the grandest was Castle Acre Priory.....




Though Walsingham, whose remains are slender, would have been a fine second best....




Perhaps especially as there was also a Priory in the neighbourhood (not to mention the Slipper Chapel and the pilgrimage centres).....




And, not surprisingly, there are lesser establishments, like St Mary's Friary at Burnham Norton.....




And the burnt out site of Creake Abbey.....




But perhaps my favourite is Binham Priory.....




Not only perhaps because of its fine, gently folding, rural setting, nor because the church is still maintained and active, the nave lit by high lancet windows, but perhaps because there is an automated cheese shop next door where one can acquire Mrs Catherine Temple's Binham Blue cheese (Norfolk's only cow's milk blue cheese) or  Norfolk Dapple (from Ferndale Farm), or Baron Bigod cheese (made by Fen Farm Dairy).....




Very very hard to better, whatever the season.....




So....  Henry VIII might have aspired to go down in history as one of the most charismatic rulers to sit on the English throne, but, and I hope you won't mind a brief quote from Wikipedia?  Domestically, Henry is known for his radical changes to the English Constitution, ushering in the theory of the divine right of kings. He also greatly expanded royal power during his reign. He frequently used charges of treason and heresy to quell dissent, and those accused were often executed without a formal trial..... He achieved many of his political aims through the work of his chief ministers, some of whom were banished or executed when they fell out of his favour.....

Henry was an extravagant spender, using the proceeds from the dissolution of the monasteries and acts of the Reformation Parliament. He also converted the money that was formerly paid Rome into royal revenue. Despite the money from these sources, he was continually on the verge of financial ruin due to his personal extravagance, especially in relation to refurbishment of his flat in Downing Street.....




Now I think there may have been a typo in that last sentence, but it is easy for the naive (aka me) to get confused between H8 and ABPJ (aka Bozymandias?)

Both seem to have had (and I deliberately use the past for the two of them) egos which suffocated reason. Both wished to consolidate power and to stifle opposition, eliminating rivals when necessary.  And both drew financial leverage from crafty schemes and dubious connections but still profligately overspent.....    

Both had Two vast and trunkless legs of stone, Both, at least in my imagination, had shattered visages, frowns, wrinkled lips, and sneers of cold command...... 

And, as if that wasn't enough, they presided over the destruction of institutions which (even if they might have needed reformation) contributed much good to society.....



(So here's one for that colossal wreck, Party Alex...)


Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,

If the women don't get you, the liquor must......


Jelly Roll Morton

Oh, Didn't He Ramble?




Nothing beside remains








4 December 2012

No Photographs, Please.... We're Royal

Acute Mourning Sickness

I am in bed.  I have been so for more than a week.  The death of Larry Hagman has laid me low, and were it not for a serious lack of Bupa I would be in a private hospital.  A cute mourning sickie they call it.  Terminal Dynastic Syndrome.  I could not go on.  A world without JR.  How could that be?

I have been infected with a worldwide virus.  Somehow someone none of us knew has affected all with deep superficiality.  OK someone shot JR.  But someone shot JFK and then Jack Ruby shot Lee Harvey Oswald and then James Earl Ray shot Martin Luther King and then two months later Sirhan Sirhan shot Bobby Kennedy, and then Squeaky Fromme tried to shoot Gerald Ford but misfired, then John Hinckley Jr had a go at Ronald Reagan (but only punctured a lung).  I mean.  People shoot people (when they have guns).

I am distressed.  The word Dynasty sends me into tube stations or finds me buying sandbags on ebay.  This virus is dangerous, and it seems that millions may be infected without even recognising the symptoms.

Not that I ever watched soap.  My closest encounter with the genre was when, in 1969, I asked Warren Beatty how he was getting on in “Compact.”  Never been good with names.  I should have known it was Doug Beatty I wanted to meet.  Ever since then, perhaps in subliminal shame, I have eschewed all TV programmes that run in sequences.  There was something called “Beautiful” my wife used to watch when we lived in Italy, but I would leave the room at the opening chord of the theme.  Same with Corrie, East Enders, and so on…..

Then Larry Hagman suffered and degenerated into dust.  Ozymandias.  And yet I am brung down.  My feelings outweigh my understanding.  Black holes appear all over my body and I find myself in need of a House Doctor. 

So I am wasting away.  Made ill by the absence of a Dynasty I no more asked for than I elected to invade Britain with Willie the Conqu.  The subconscious is a wonderful thing.  As long as it doesn’t surface.  In my bed I play mental scrabble with myself to while away the hours and forget Dallas.  I have the letters SXAECBGURO in my hand and cannot think of a word or phrase (valid since 1917 – the Windsor Rules) that I can make with this.

Tish.  My nurse brings me a cold compress.  A tisane. Royal Jelly.  Anything to soothes my frets.

And then I hear that the Duchy of Cambridge is pregnant.  The third in line to the thrown is about to be bored.  A certain Dynasty is not to be Terminated. Yea!! I can rise from my frailty, cast off my mourning shrouds and breathe again the cool air of Windsor….. Hyperemesis gravidarum notwithstanding (and no memory of my stopping the family commute every day for weeks for my wife to gracefully vomit on the verge before work will affect this); I wish no one ill, but I want to dance down the street, shimmy on the trestle tables left out from the Jumbly party, and shout Halleluiah, Who Cares!  The Dynasty is on the road again!  Without any rancour we can all look forward to a secure future of Honours and privilege and everything that Grates about Britain….

Bring back Larry Hagman.  At least he was a star! 

The Larry Hagman Foundation: 
“Evil does Good” (That's what it says!)

http://www.larryhagman.com/