Sometimes a walk is as powerful as a play or film or football match,
You can’t sleep afterwards,
Your mind keeps revisiting snatches of conversation,
Or landscape technicolour pictures appear in your head,
Or memories of moments but they’re not memento mori,
It’s all alive and vital,
Not Coleridge’s Lime Tree Bower My Prison,
Instead, a diorama of recollection:
We talked, inter alia, of the following:
The Sublime, the Gothick, the Picturesque,
The unacknowledged ubiquity of slavery money,
And its Keynsian multiplier effect,
Both immediate, delayed or submerged;
Slavery:
‘The Shame that dare not speak its Name’;
Alexander Pope, Coleridge, Wordsworth,
King Arthur, fable, myth, memorialisation,
The invention of tradition,
Heritage and Counter-Heritage,
The Grand Tour,
‘Rule Britannia’;
A Celtic monk’s marginalia as we passed a puddle:
‘In the water’s canvas bright sunshine paints the picture of the day’;
Tobias Smollett, Daniel Defoe, Tristam Shandy, Ozymandias,
Sapperton Tunnel, the source of the Frome, the Slad Brook,
The watershed at Miserden,
The edgelands around the Thames and Severn Canal,
King George the Third’s visit to the tunnel,
18th century sight-seers,
Inland navigators, canal leggers, bricklayers;
Ecophilia, Topophilia, Logophilia,
Ocular-centred walking and the visually impaired,
Podcasting and the recording of …
The senses when out walking,
The squelch and oozing of water beneath one’s boots,
The fragrance of spearmint,
The cry of a buzzard,
The taste of spring-water,
The sharp touch of a nettle,
Learning how to describe what we see when we see …
The Blake-like vision of the universe within the palm of one’s hand; read more

Disenchantment: The Picturesque Cotswolds and ‘Colonial Countryside’
A Walk in the Park

David Olusoga: 'Few acts of collective forgetting have been as thorough and as successful as the erasing of slavery from Britain's "island story".'

The following descriptions from the internet describe the beauty of Cirencester Park. There is no mention of something else … more of that, later.

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9.3 % Swing

A red island in the sea of Cotswold blue
A red outcrop in these blue remembered hills
We’re not 25 grand smug shepherd’s huts
We’re red brick, spit and sawdust, woollen mills

A red rose amidst the snarling thorns of May
A red flag sewn from Stroudwater Scarlet
We’re not the headmistress’s blue-rinse smile
We’re the crimson kiss of a wanton harlot

We’re not Farrow & Ball “complacent blue-tit”
We’re not weekend waxed-jacket and tweed knickers
We’re not honey-dipped, chocolate-box bollocks
We’re not mimsy-boo-boutique more tea vicars read more

Jo Cox Commemorative Walk Saturday June 17th: 4 miles or so, around Nailsworth; meet by the clock near Hobbs at 10 o’clock. A performative walk: referencing FGR’s success; David Drew’s success; Jo Cox’s first speech to parliament: “We are far more united and have far more in common than that which divides us”, and, finally, working class local history. Please wear FGR colours or red or whatever. read more

The Windrush joins the Thames at Newbridge, Flowing beneath the elegant Taynton stone bridge, Once a port of call for that Burford quarried stone On its way to Oxford and London, As well as a defeat for the Parliamentarians … The sight of so many swans gliding on the wa read more

The day started early in Cirencester, where our Chartist Allen Davenport was a cobbler before he married Mary, And moved to London, where the writings of Thomas Spence Led him into revolutionary politics, writing, and action – But that was less on my mind than fin read more

I arrive at William Cobbett’s rotten borough of Cricklade: ‘I passed through that villainous hole … the labourers look very poor, dwellings little better than pig beds and their food nearly equal to that of a pig. This Wiltshire is a horrible county.’ But last January, read more