The sweetest of song to escape from the Sistine Chapel…
The Choir of Claire College, Cambridge.
I had the joy of listening to a performance last year
at Douai Abbey, Woolhampton, Berkshire.
Sweet sweet tears…
The sweetest of song to escape from the Sistine Chapel…
The Choir of Claire College, Cambridge.
I had the joy of listening to a performance last year
at Douai Abbey, Woolhampton, Berkshire.
Sweet sweet tears…
The choir of King’s College, Cambridge sing this lovely Easter hymn.
I remember this well from my childhood in Scotland.
“Mrs Cecil Frances Alexander wrote this hymn as she sat up one night with her seriously sick daughter. Many times, traveling to town to shop, she had passed a small grassy mound, just outside the old city wall of Derry, Ireland. It always made her think of Calvary, and it came to mind as she wrote this hymn.”
There Is a Green Hill Far Away.
Music by William Horsley.
There is a green hill far away,
without a city wall,
where our dear Lord was crucified
who died to save us all.
We may not know, we cannot tell,
what pains he had to bear,
but we believe it was for us
he hung and suffered there.
He died that we might be forgiven,
he died to make us good,
that we might go at last to heaven,
saved by his precious blood.
There was no other good enough
to pay the price of sin,
he only could unlock the gate
of heaven and let us in.
O dearly, dearly has he loved!
And we must love him too,
and trust in his redeeming blood,
and try his works to do.

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Üsküdar’a gider iken
aldı da bir yağmur
Kâtibimin setresi uzun,
eteği çamur
Kâtip uykudan uyanmış,
gözleri mahmur
Kâtip benim, ben kâtibin,
el ne karışır?
Kâtibime kolalı da gömlek
ne güzel yaraşır
Üsküdar’a gider iken
bir mendil buldum
Mendilimin içine
lokum doldurdum
Ben yarimi arar iken
yanımda buldum
Kâtip benim, ben kâtibin,
el ne karışır?
Kâtibime kolalı da gömlek
ne güzel yaraşır
When going to Üsküdar, it began to rain
long is the coat of my scribe, its sleeves get muddy.
The scribe woke up, his eyes are still sleepy.
I am of my scribe and my scribe is mine, it’s nobody’s business.
How well the stiff shirt collar suits my scribe!
When going to Üsküdar, I found a kerchief
I filled it with lokum (Turkish sweet)
When looking for my helper, I found him on my side.
I am of my scribe and my scribe is mine, it’s nobody’s business.
How well the stiff shirt collar suits my scribe!
“This is the tune that drove us CRAZY as little children…
We went and discovered its source, sang what we remembered, then, identified…danced & danced as the Istanbul restaurant’s musicians played for us…
In a childish trance of joy!!!”
George Lailey’s bowls were so popular that Harrods sold them. One even toured the world in a show about English crafts.
Like his forebears, George Lailey operated out of a small workshop, Turner’s Green, Bucklebury in rural Berkshire. An item made by him was collected by the British Council in the 1940s and toured the commonwealth. The bowl on the lathe in Museum of English Rural Life, University of Reading is said to have been one he was making at the time of his death in 1958.
His grave in Bucklebury is appropriately marked with a wooden cross.
Two Lailey bowls, the larger one well used…
The Goaldi family enclosure, a joy to watch these little monkeys feeding & playing…has been 20 years since I took my baby son to the Living Rainforest Gardens at Hampstead Norreys, then a stone’s throw from where we lived, and JAM was trundled round in his pram. Today he took his sweetheart Billie for her Saint Valentine’s Day treat, and ol’ Mother came too…was lovely, and the £10 entrance fee is valid for yet an other enjoyable year…we will go back each season to see the flowering plants, and the multitude of animals, insects, butterflies , fowl and reptiles…what a joy in the Berkshire countryside!
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