Poetry and the Stories of St Mary Tory

Covid put paid to a lot of things, one of them being the Words and Ears poetry evenings that used to take place in The Swan at Bradford-on-Avon. (It seems churlish to complain, given that the organiser, Dawn Gorman, now presents 'The Poetry Place' on West Wilts Radio - another boon for the poetry community in the West - but I do miss the rather more plentiful opportunities we used to have for in-person mingling with the poets of Wiltshire and Somerset. 

I was really pleased, then, to be able to join a few of them for a one-off Words and Ears Live at the 2024 Bradford Roots Music Festival. First though, since I'd arrived in very good time, a little visit to the lovely Chapel of St Mary, more commonly known as St Mary Tory,

In case you're wondering, 'Tory' has nothing to do with the political party; rather, it derives from the word 'tor' and refers to its location, perched high on the hill above the 17th century suburb of Newtown. 

Luckily, I was winding my way to Mary Tory from the top of the hill, rather than uphill from the centre of Bradford-on-Avon, which I've heard is a fair climb. 

Even so, my route was still steepish in places. 

Sadly, it was a dull, dark day, and the Westbury White Horse wasn't visible on thie horizon, but I did enjoy the rooftops with their graduated tiles, layered in the distinctive Cotswold manner ... 

... while below I picked out Holy Trinity Church, the roof of St Laurence, the atmospheric Saxon Church, and the mediaeval Town Bridge ...

... and to the west, I could see the Tithe Barn with the Kennet and Avon canal behind it. It would be good to go back again on a clearer day. 

St Mary Tory

The chapel is thought to date from the second half of the 15th century, and was originally a pilgrim chapel on the route between Glastonbury and Malmesbury. The antiquary, John Leland, came across it in his 'Itinerary' of 1533, and John Aubrey, chronicler of the 17th century, considered it 'the finest hermitage I have seen in England'. By the 19th century it was a ruin, and was rebuilt, in its original, late Perpendicular style, by T B Saunders QC. 

The lovely East Window, was designed and made by Mark Angus of Bath in 1999. 

It felt like a very peaceful, special place, but I couldn't linger too long as I had poems to read. I duly arrived back at the festival slightly pink and breathless, but my poems - featuring Bob Dylan, David Bowie, Joe Strummer and Ian Dury - were well received, and I was also interviewed by Dawn for West Wilts radio about my forthcoming collection, 'Love the Albatross'. 

On the Golden Gudgeon stage - clockwise - Linda Saunders with Dawn Gorman during the sound check, Jeff Phelps, Dawn and Frances-Anne King, Eileen Cameron, Chris Macfarlane, Linda Saunders, Dee Way and Ruth Sharman

A funny thing happened when I was talking to a member of the audience, who was wearing a bird headband, about wassailing, specifically the time we wassailed my grandmother's apple tree which my friend had driven over from my old garden on top of her Morris Traveller and replanted, and she said 'Dru Marland'! Which is exactly what I love about our community and our corner of the world. 

Ducks go a-poetting

I'd missed the original exhibition last month in the West Barn, celebrating the collaboration between the Bradford-on-Avon photography group and the Words and Ears poets, on account of having to take my mother to her triplet siblings' 80th birthday party, so it was great to get to the rerun at the Swan on Saturday, and see the artwork up close for the first time, as well as read my poem. 

Bradford was its usual glorious, green-and-gold summer self ...

... and my fellow-collaborator, Melissa Wishart, had done my poem proud. It certainly held its own amid an impressive body of work.

Much gratitude is due to Dawn Gorman and Pey Pey Oh for organising it all. 

On Sunday, it was poetry all day ... 

... as the IsamBards - that's David Johnson, Pameli Benham, Dominic Fisher and me - brought to fruition our latest project: poetry walks around the University of Bristol's Botanic Gardens. Two walks were scheduled - one in the morning, one in the afternoon - and we were blessed with goodly-sized, attentive audiences both times. 

And only the occasional spot of rain. 

Best of all, we were continually upstaged by the beautiful gardens and its inhabitants.

In fact, some of the plants were quite aggressive. These are Strelitzia, which seemed to be impersonating emus.

They even turn on poets! 

Rather more poetry-friendly were the ducks. 

Who knew they were so into it? 

The hen duck decided to join in and rebrand it a poetry waddle ... 

...

 

... until the audience clapped and she joined in with her wings. 

Back at home I gloated over the weekend's treasury of contributor copies ... 

... the beautifully compiled booklet of the Bradford-on-Avon collaboration; Dru Marland's new canal-themed anthology, Poets Afloat, in which I have a poem and about which there will surely be more anon; and the booklet of poems about the Botanic Gardens, which the University of Bristol has produced. 

Not a bad haul.

A One Stoat Day

You wait ages for a Bradford-on-Avon to come along, and then two appear in as many days. Thursday we were in town for Words and Ears in the Swan, with Rosie Bailey and June Hall as guest readers.

It was a golden evening.

And today it was the biannual Kennet & Avon Floating Market (summer edition). I drove down through a strange yellow countryside in glorious sun. A stoat ran across the road (well) in front of my car and it felt like a good omen.

The River Avon looked lush but the grass outside the Tithe Barn, where, six summers ago, we watched a couple celebrate their handfasting in teeming rain, was shockingly threadbare. 

Go straight back to summer 1976. Do not pass Go. Do not collect £200.

The young woman charged with unlocking the Barn let me in the small side entrance and I got to see it fill with light as she opened each huge door. A bird shifted high in the rafters. It was only when it moved its head with a distinctive bob that I knew it was a pigeon. 

Up on the canal I found Dru and the offspring-formerly-known-as-Boat-Teenager. 'Lovely day for it!' I said in a spirit of stoatly optimism. And the skies opened.

I held an umbrella over one display of art until Dru had time to clear it. Then we repaired to NB Eve and drank coffee whitened with Marvel until it went off. 

Back outside, I rendezvoused with my friend Helen and we wandered up the canal. The towpath was as interesting as ever. 

Back at the market the pub appeared to be shut. Helen and I had a drink and a sit-down in the cafe. It started to rain again. 

On the towpath Dru and Katie were scrambling to get their art back into the dry. I headed for home and some chores I had to do for my mother ... 

... my haul of treasure tucked inside my jacket to keep it dry.

Original artwork for The Leaping Word logo by Dru Marland

Zines by Katie Marland