Ars longa, vita brevis (what does it mean?)

The Latin phrase came into my mind this morning as |I was in the bath listening to a piece of music by Sir Hubert Parry, one that I'd never heard before. It was beautiful, a memorial to Parry's hero Brahms. And I thought about how many lovely things have been composed, made, written, that most people have never come across.

So to that Latin phrase. For many years I took it that it meant "There's so much art in the world, and life is just too short to enjoy it all." Art is long, life is short.

That's a perfectly possible meaning. And today, when we plunder the world and the whole of history for artistic experiences, it seems truer than ever.

But "ars" also means "skill." My phrase could also mean "It takes a lifetime to perfect certain skills, and just when you think you are nearly an expert, your life is over, and it's up to the next generation to develop their own skills.

...

Barbara has just arrived, so I'll continue these musings later.



Well, much later. I think I'll leave the musings there - you'll have got the gist - and have another post with yesterday's news.

The day

Another lovely sunny day. My brother and sister-in-law, Robert and Liz, came all the way from Shrewsbury and returned this evening, and I greatly enjoyed their visit. We saw some of the Somerset Levels, before going to the Ninesquare woodland near Collard Hill, south of Street, and enjoying the views and the sunshine among the trees. Before we left the birds began their evening song, completing the joy.

Trevor set off on his bicycle after lunch for Templecombe station and so to

London, but promises to be back soon. Barbara is to visit tomorrow. John Smart will come tomorrow morning, bringing violin, so I have written a tiny album-leaf for us to try to play - well, that I shall try to play; John will have no difficulty.

I was so glad when Charlie got me a set of Narnia books, and I was able to copy out the bit about Reepicheep.

Had a phone call from Tony Joyce, my vicar when I went to Downend as junior curate. He and Mary are kindly planning to visit. Lovely message from Downend fellowship as well.

Hope to post pics of the woodland tomorrow.

Miracle on Walton Hill

Well, it seemed like a miracle to me. After spending the morning in bed, and enjoying visits from Michael, and from Bob Parker, fresh from the Caribbean, I was invited to a have a bath without the electric mechanism that gets me in and out (and incidentally makes it difficult to lie down and relax. When I began to get into the hot water I noticed not only my three new rubber ducks, but the bath surrounded by celandines picked by Charlie. It quite broke me up and released the tear-ducts!

Meanwhile Michael and Trevor held deep and detailed talk about making one more audio CD of seven of Michael's pieces that we had managed to record. We hope that a disc called Parsons Plays Kidd will emerge soon, for very limited distribution - not commercial at all.

Next (after entertaining the GP in the bath - my Grande Levee, like Louis XIV's) - I welcomed Trevor's invitation to come out and enjoy the sunshine. And what sunshine, what a perfect spring day. We drove gently up to the parking place near the windmill, and relaxed there in the late afternoon warmth for an hour and more.

The wonderful thing for me was that although I left the house feeling that everything was becoming an effort, by the time Trevor had pushed me in the wheelchair half way to the top of the viewing hill I was getting out and walking, and feeling all the better for it.

The views of the Levels are superb, and we also took our lives in our hands and crossed the road to admire the Walton views. By the time the breeze was blowing slightly chilly and we thought we should return home, the sun outlined the sheep in a most pleasing manner.

An interpretation board was helpful. I remembered how hard we found it in the Street Society to get even something that passers-by would take for granted to be constructed, I think our board on the history of Street was definitely worth it.

A strange poem

Christopher Smart wrote Rejoice in the Lamb while confined to a lunatic asylum, I believe.

Below is an extract, including a mouse "a creature Of great personal valour". I do wonder whether C.S. Lewis had Smart in mind when describing Reepicheep. I'm hoping to be able to quote a little bit about Reepicheep soon.


I don't have a cat called Jeoffry, but next door's cat Stimpy comes in a lot, and is extrememely affectionate,

For I will consider my cat Jeoffry.
For he is the servant of the living God.
Duly and daily serving him.

For at the first glance
Of the glory of God in the East
He worships in his way.
For this is done by wreathing his body
Seven times round with elegant quickness.
For he knows that God is his saviour.
For God has bless'd him
In the variety of his movements.
For there is nothing sweeter
Than his peace when at rest.

For I am possessed of a cat,
Surpassing in beauty,
From whom I take occasion
To bless Almighty God.

For the Mouse is a creature
Of great personal valour.
For this is a true case--
Cat takes female mouse,
Male mouse will not depart,
but stands threat'ning and daring.
If you will let her go,
I will engage you,
As prodigious a creature as you are.

For the Mouse is a creature
Of great personal valour.
For the Mouse is of
An hospitable disposition.

A Victorian child's morning prayer

My Wynne Grandmother knew and liked this morning prayer. She copied it out onto a large sheet of paper and illustrated it with water-colour. Then she framed it, and, taking me with her, she took it to the Birds' Nest orphanage and presented it. I thought it was all lovely, but looking back now, I wonder what the children made of it. If you think of Lark Rise to Candleford, it is really a prayer for the family in the big house to say, as they watch the Lark Rise workers go off to the fields. Anyway, the verse has a memorable lilt to it, though I have forgotten the last two lines at least.

I was reminded of the prayer because once again the view from my bedroom window this morning was sunny and lovely, and if there were no larks, there were other delightful bird songs.

The darkness is over, the sun is on high.
The lark is up singing its song in the sky.
The cattle and labourers all are abroad
And everyone serving and praising the Lord.

I will not lie sleeping my morning away,
But try to be busy and useful all day.
I'll rise with the skylark and join in his song
And thank God for watching me all the night long.

How kind God is to me, how great and how good,
And for me my Saviour has shed his own blood.
Lord, teach me that Saviour to love and to know,
And make me more like him the older I grow.

How early he rose to find time for his prayer,
And his own dear Mother he honoured with care.

Today

Well, today was a bit of a rest day after an exciting Sunday. Visitors included the hospice nurse, who filled in my attendance allowance form for me, and was generally helpful, the lady to test my panic button, the Rector, John Foreman to have a session on Figured Bass for his next organ exam, and Helen. And people came morning and evening to offer extra help for getting up and going to bed. Fortunately the in-house team is still able to cope!

Trevor is still here, which is great. He has worked on the Mozart violin sonata that we played a week or two back, and put it on YouTube. I couldn't play it now. I looked back to the grade 8 ainging, too, and that came just in time, too. Cat's Mum has posted a nice comment today - thank you.

I did play a bit on the church organ yesterday, and maybe we can post a video of the bit that someone caught on camera. I played the Clavinova today, but maybe overdid it, because my right shoulder is a bit sore this evening.

We shall put the Mozart on as a separate post.

My Grandmother's verses

My Wynne Grandmother was a big influence in my life. These lines, written I suppose as she looked forward to the end of her own long life - she died aged 92 - appear in my Father's little book, A Christian's Guide to Growing Old.
It's a short book, easy to read.

White hair growing thin,
Bright eyes growing dim,
Shoulders sagging,
Footsteps lagging.

A Pause—A Flash!

Eyes crystal clear,
Footsteps light as air,
Glad hands raised in joyous praise
Vindicating Heaven's ways—
Alleluia!

E.C.A.W. 1873-1965

The length of our days is seventy years

Yesterday was all about the beginnings of life. The grandchildren took centre stage, merry and bright.

This morning we are expecting professionals to come and focus on looking after me. The care people are to come and we are to discuss how they may come to supplement the nursing and other care that Charlie and Chacquie are at present able to give me. I'm sure an extra pair of hands will be valuable soon to them.

There are other loose ends on the care front. A hospice nurse has promised to help fill in an attendance allowance application; she says it takes an hour.

There's also my disabled car cards which have not come any nearer, and would be really useful. I don't know whether I have to ring them.

Anyway, in the midst of practicalities, here is the psalm about length of life.

Lord, you have been our dwelling place
       throughout all generations.

 ² Before the mountains were born
       or you brought forth the earth and the world,
       from everlasting to everlasting you are God.

 ³ You turn men back to dust,
       saying, "Return to dust, O sons of men."

 ⁴ For a thousand years in your sight
       are like a day that has just gone by,
       or like a watch in the night.

 ⁵ You sweep men away in the sleep of death;
       they are like the new grass of the morning-

 ⁶ though in the morning it springs up new,
       by evening it is dry and withered.

 ⁷ We are consumed by your anger
       and terrified by your indignation.

 ⁸ You have set our iniquities before you,
       our secret sins in the light of your presence.

 ⁹ All our days pass away under your wrath;
       we finish our years with a moan.

 ¹⁰ The length of our days is seventy years—
       or eighty, if we have the strength;
       yet their span is but trouble and sorrow,
       for they quickly pass, and we fly away.

 ¹¹ Who knows the power of your anger?
       For your wrath is as great as the fear that is due you.

 ¹² Teach us to number our days aright,
       that we may gain a heart of wisdom.

 ¹³ Relent, O LORD! How long will it be?
       Have compassion on your servants.

 ¹⁴ Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love,
       that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.

 ¹⁵ Make us glad for as many days as you have afflicted us,
       for as many years as we have seen trouble.

 ¹⁶ May your deeds be shown to your servants,
       your splendour to their children.

 ¹⁷ May the favour of the Lord our God rest upon us;
       establish the work of our hands for us—
       yes, establish the work of our hands.

How went the day?

Thank you for asking - extremely well!

For a start, God gave us the most beautiful weather. The Parish churchyard is bursting with daffs and generally new life is everywhere.

We gathered around the font in an informal ring of chairs, and the whole baptism was informal and I hope full of meaning. In the parish church a two-part window is behind the font, the left hand stained glass showing John the Baptist with cross and baptism shell, and the right hand glass showing Jesus, his feet in blue Jordan water. A perfect ready-made visual aid to help explain baptism to little children.

We sang more songs than I had thought we would, which was all good. I played the guitar for one, and Helen Lunt played for others.

The whole service was filmed, and we hope to make a DVD for Barbara and Giles, as a memento. My sister Dorothy stood in for herself and husband David as godparents. David was busy with Sunday services back home. Inevitably this baptism was arranged at shortish notice, so that I would be able to take it.

Afterwards the family had a very good lunch at The Mullions. I was glad that Rowena and Nicolette were able to stay a bit longer, and I could enjoy their company and their piano playing.

Trevor and Dorothy have been able to stay tonight. Hope they will both be comfortable.

Then and Now

With all my four children together, and Giles admiring the photos taken of them one day long ago by Barbara Luthy, I had the idea of asking for this picture.

You've got to walk that lonesome valley

You've got to walk that lonesome valley
You've got walk it by yourself.
Oh no one else can walk it for you.
You've got walk it by yourself.

This is the day that the Lord has made

Yes, every day is a day that the Lord has made, but I like to think of Sunday as specially his.

And for our family it's special.

Today at 10.30 in Street Parish Church Grace and Sophie are to be baptized and I am to have the joy of baptizing them.

Yesterday was, as I wrote, the gathering of the clans. The disappointment is that Cass, Giles' mother, won't be able to make it after all, but she will be rejoicing and praying back home and no doubt in her church this morning.

Yesterday also we made the Baptism Booklet that we shall use. If you would like to see it, I'll put it on line. There are eight short pages, each clearly labelled.

The first one is a general introduction, and then we have:

• Welcome
• Deciding to follow Jesus
• The Cross
• The Water
• Our faith
• The Baptism
• The Candles and Dismissal

Welcome is from everyone present, representing both the human family and the family of Jesus. We are glad that some good friends are foregoing their normal Sunday morning worship to be with us. It would have been very good to have the Baptism in an ordinary service, but I didn't feel  quite up to it.

The section about deciding to follow Jesus reminds me of two occasions in my life. The first was in Ireland when I was on holiday in Delgany with my family, and went to a beach mission, CSSM in Greystones. One afternoon after games there, I was walking along a little-used railway line with a CSSM worker and another lad. The worker asked me "Have you ever given your heart to the Lord Jesus?" I thought about it and said no. He said "Will you go home and do it?" I said I'd try. He quoted a chorus, "It is not 'try' but 'trust'." I went back to Delgany and knelt by my bedside and gave my heart to Jesus.

The second occasion was in Cambridge. By that time I had had years of varied Christian experience, and when I went up to university I joined CICCU, the Cambridge Inter-Collegiate Christian Union. At one of their prayer meetings on a Sunday morning  a man began to recite the words of a chorus that would normally be sung. When you sing, sometimes the words mean more. This time the words meant very much more, to me, spoken:

I have decided to follow Jesus
I have decided to follow Jesus
I have decided to follow Jesus
No turning back
No turning back

The world behind me, the Cross before me
The world behind me, the Cross before me
The world behind me, the Cross before me
No turning back
No turning back

So stark.So clear. These words, spoken slowly and deliberately in a Cambridge college chapel, brought me back to the decision point and helped re-direct my life.

So this morning the signing with the Cross follows naturally on the decision to follow Jesus.

The Water is the essence of Baptism. It is the outward and visible sign of what God does by his Spirit inside everyone who comes to him. We are going to make the filling of the font as splashy and watery as we can, so that everyone, including Grace and Sophie, will be sure that water is what we are using. There are to be three big splashes, one for each of the little short prayers about water - water that brings life in the natural world, water that reminds us of drowning/dying with Jesus and coming out to a new life, and water that makes us think of God's loving Holy Spirit that makes lovely changes in people's hearts and lives.

What is left? Our chance to say we trust in the loving God, and then the Baptism when that love of God is made as personal as ever we can to Grace and Sophie.

And then candles. These could be just an add-on to the real business, but I think they are a very helpful add-on. Early in the proceedings we shall light a big candle and remind each other that Jesus said "I am the Light of the World."

Then at the end, when Grace and Sophie have been brought into the circle of his light, they will each have a light of her own, lit from the Jesus candle. The light is spreading. I pray that the light will glow brightly in these two little girls, and that it will spread from them to many others whose lives they touch.

Well, that is our plan for this morning. We shall sing as well.

If you would like to print out our booklet you are welcome to do it. I think I shall put it on line as a Google Document at least.

So it's here: http://docs.google.com/Doc?id=dgd4mc9k_750fcvst4f6

Beware. The pages have been numbered, and are re-arranged for printing out as a booklet. I shall have to leave you to read them in the right order.

Pray for us.

Gathering of the clan

All my children and grandchildren are now in Street or Glastonbury, plus my sister, which is why there hasn't been an update recently - nor will there be for a while

Just thought I'd let you know.

After a night's sleep

Half past seven. Sun streaming through the window and lighting up my little bedroom picture gallery which includes a photo of Sue, a drawing by Rowena of Barbara, the Battle of the Boyne in oils, and the Rocky Valley in County Wicklow in a water-colour.

Outside the wind was blowing that eucalyptus tree that partly blocks my view of the Tor, and birds were singing in chorus.

I really was very tired last night, but used the new banisters to help me up to bed. When the man had fitted them yesterday morning I asked him if they wouldn't put splinters into you but he assured me no. While I was out someone else came to inspect the work and agreed with me, so the wood was polished, and I am now confident it's OK. It is always a blissful moment when I lie back in bed and relax.

But the evening had been excellent. Charlie picked Rowena and Nicolette up from Castle Cary station and I suggested they looked in here before going to The Bear for the night. They came like a breath of fresh air, admired the results of Chacquie's and others' hard work to make the house neat and tidy, and played my piano - which I love to hear. Nicolette has been having lessons for only a few months, but can play convincingly - she was very unwilling at first, but soon got into it. Rowena found a hymn book and played some of her favourites, including some of my favourites, too, like Jesu lover of my soul to the Welsh tune. When Charlie came back from delivering the girls to their hotel, he sat down and sight-read some more from the hymn book. He has a lot of ability.

This morning I was able to use a zapper and listen to my brother and my mother talking on tape - now on CD - about Annesley and Acton relatives she remembered.

Now I'm lying back taking it easy, with the laptop on a second of those hospital tables, this time holding the laptop in a good place for use, but not pushing down on me.

Today's jobs and delights include Barbara's family coming to see me, and getting an order of service printed for tomorrow's baptism. Dorothy will come this evening, and I had a message yesterday that Cass, Giles' Mum, hopes to make it, too, tomorrow morning. Lovely if she can.

Yeomen of the Guard from 1994

As promised or threatened in the previous post, here is the excerpt from the Strode Opera production of 1994. I was the Warden of the Tower, or some such title. My costume is splendid-looking, but the trousers itched terribly, so I went out and bought some women's tights, and was comfortable. Don't worry. I didn't develop any more tastes for cross-dressing. My part doesn't really count as a solo part - not for purposes of allotting dressing rooms, anyway. I was with the chorus, until a couple of the real soloists generously invited me into the soloists' dressing room!

My day

Well, activity goes on. Helen whisked me off after lunch to accompany her as she had a singing lesson with Julie (who is in the Grade 8 exam photo), and I enjoyed playing favourite songs like Silent Noon.

When we returned to the house we heard that one of the doctors had called, and wanted me to see her at the surgery straight away. It sounded serious, so Helen kindly took me there, and after about 15 minutes the doctor saw me. She had been alerted by the district nurse yesterday, and gave my legs and tum a good going over. Fortunately she was very reassuring, so it was good I went.

Since then Charlie has cooked the most exquisite supper with unusual mushrooms and cheeses. Meanwhile Chacquie has been going through some of my stuff and putting photos together ready for me to label - that's another little project. Charlie found a VHS player so that I could watch the video made in 1994 of Yeomen of the Guard in the Strode, in which I had a small part. John Gray kindly lent it to us. I have taken a little excerpt and put it on YouTube, so that will be on the blog later.

Tomorrow will be another full day...

Autobiography

I have been writing my life story, as some readers have discovered. Because I don't know how long I have, I've started with the bones of it, and I am adding gradually, in various different places as things occur to me. This morning, for example, I remembered the talks given by Dr Frank Lake in Ridley Hall in Cambridge, which profoundly influenced my understanding of different personality types and how to listen empathetically, so the Cambridge chapter has expanded.

I have also put the link to the autobiography permanently on the blog front page, on the left under 'About David'.

Today's big project - accompanying a Grade 8 singer

The last musical challenge that I had in mind happened today. A lively friend of Helen Lunt's, Julie, asked me some time ago if I would accompany her Grade 8 singing candidate Cat in the Associated Board exam today.

We had a few rehearsals - all too few - and today Cat came to collect me at noon and drove me, beautifully, to Chard Baptist Church where the exams are being held.

We arrived in good time, and were able to have a run-through in the church hall, where there was a perfectly acceptable piano.

One of the songs, Schumann's Widmung, is one that Helen and I have performed. Helen sings it in A flat, and at a speed that I got used to. Cat's book has it in G flat, the key with 6 flats including C flat, and Cat takes it much faster than Helen. It was fine, and the examiner after the song said "Thank you. You do realise what you are putting your accompanist through?" So I felt appreciated!

Anyway, it was good to have been able to fulfil that promise. I think Cat (on the left in the photo) will have done very well.

We had most interesting conversation in the car. We had both taken A level English Literature at the Strode, but with different teachers, and we shared our love of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner and of Wordsworth. I told her some of the stories of my family and she told me about her father's achievements and about her grandmother with a fund of family anecdotes. When I said I'd been listening to recordings of my Mother made by Robert 25 years ago, and urged her to record her grandmother, she thought it was a good idea.

Anyway, we got on like a house on fire, and I am so glad of the opportunity to have got to know her a little. Thanks, Cat, and thanks, Julie.

To be honest, the physical effort in playing the harder piano parts is now noticeable. I'll have to think carefully what else I want to play and possibly record.

Music video of the Day: Master Tallis' Testament

Not my own music today. I am playing a piece by Herbert Howells, a composer I admire for his organ and church music. I am playing on Michael Kidd's organ. The first Howells I remember coming across was probably the carol anthem "A spotless rose is blooming". The Ichthyan Singers in Cambridge sang the Jubilate from his Collegium Regale service, a joyful and bracing setting.

When Gloucester Cathedral planned to dedicate part of a staine glass window to Howells' memory, I was glad to contribute, for the pleasure that he has given me, latterly chiefly through his organ music. I also remember with something like awe the experience of being in Wells Cathedral for a performance of Howells' Hymnus Paradisi. A wonderful work, partly deriving its emotional power from Howells' loss of his young son Michael.

The Prophet from Ephesus

This is just a preliminary notice about the latest book by Caroline Lawrence in the Roman Mysteries series.

Caroline very kindly gave me an inscribed copy when she heard of my condition, and I began to read it; but I only got right into it on the journey back from Cambridge yesterday, when my son Charlie drove so smoothly that I was able to read without feeling squiffy at all.

The further into the book I got, the more excited and moved I became.

A warning. Compared with the early books in the series it has a complexity that presumes that the reader has grown up a bit and can follow several different story lines at once. There are are also quite a lot of characters, and not all the story lines look like having immediately happy endings. In fact it is all getting more like real life.

But what grabbed me by the throat was the prophet himself, and his friend. I shan't spoil the plot by revealing who he is, only say I wonder whether anyone in the BBC will have the moral courage to continue to dramatise the series for children despite the aggressively secular anti-Christian ethos that obtains there. Caroline has done what my friend Gavin Reid once explained to me that he'd like to do - write a secular novel and bring in, quite naturally, chunks of St John's Gospel. Well, Caroline has not quite done that, but something to me probably even better.

I'm still faced by several cliff-hangers in the book, but I've read enough to know that I would recommend it whole-heartedly.