In The Glade
Anne Creed has transformed the derelict waste land off Nelson Street into a place of beauty, special to many. A broken piece of roofing slate on the corner of the Golden Fleece carved with the word glade in Tom Perkins style marks the entrance and points to the cracked pool table inscribed with ‘Song’ by Ivor Gurney.
Only the wanderer knows England’s graces
Or can anew see clear familiar faces
And who loves joy as he who dwells in shadows
Do not forget me, quite, O Severn meadows
Gurney wrote it on the Western Front in the spring of 1917 before the Third Battle of Ypres (Passchendaele) where he was gassed. Broken in two, the slate was dumped in a skip. The break could represent the breakup of Europe in the First World War or the subsequent break down of his mental health.
“No it’s the River Severn,” a friend said.
Tina, a Reigate trained calligrapher, designed the letters and over the years of carving it has found itself in various places. In a Dursley garage, it broke into six pieces.
“They are the Severn meadows,” observed a neighbour.
Now at last it has a home in the glade alongside a growing number of my stones, including his poem ‘Brimscombe’ (1919) hand carved on fived panels of slate and marble, and …
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in. Leonard Cohen
Should anyone want to talk stone or try carving, I’m often there.