GONE WEST by Huw Parsons

BRENDA GIVES IT A WORLE:
The adventures of Brenda, a Somerset curlew. I perform this poem live at Bristol's Halo Café.

CLOUDS & SPIRES:
A development of the old nursery rhyme 'Jack and Jill,' which, apparently, comes from the village of Kilmersdon in Somerset.

BRUSHSQUIRE:
A true story about the hunt for one of my ancestors in the Somerset village of West Bagborough.

FAMILY TRAITS:
A poem about one of my ancestors, Mary Welch, who was born in 1820 or thereabouts, and who spent time with her infant son in Taunton's workhouse. Just in case you feel this has nothing to do with you, then maybe think again, as eight out of every ten of us have ancestors who spent time in Victorian workhouses. I'm joined on this recording by Sian Drinan, while Richard Williams sings 'Early One Morning.'

A LINK WITH NOBILITY:
Henry de Ferrers was one of my ancestors. He was one of William the Conqueror’s 'Masters of Horse,' and it was his job to load horses onto the tiny boats of the Norman invasion fleet; a tricky job I should imagine, with even worse to come in the actual battle of Hastings. The Ferrers family were given lands all over Britain as reward for their endeavours, but my branch of the family came from such places as Bere Ferrers and Churston Ferrers in south Devon.

NIGHTJAR HUNTING:
Here's a poem about nightjar hunting on Aylesbeare Common in Devon. It's written as a 'Pantoum'; a strange poetic form in which lines are repeated in certain order to make a kind of spoken chant.

OH THE CUCKOO:
A poem, inspired by an old folk song, about that beautiful bird which brings with it the summer.

SHADOWS:
Written on a hot July day on the high cliff tops above the sea near Branscombe in Devon.

STONEY LITTLETON LONG BARROW:
Here's a little piece about a visit one lovely September day to this little known remnant of Neolithic Somerset.

WHEN I RODE ON WHEELS OF GOLD:
Here I gaze into the future and imagine my dreary dotage washed up in Sidmouth, and contrast this with the vitality of my youth. The title, by the way, is a slightly altered version of a line from Sting's lovely song, 'Fields of Gold.'

OH SO SIDMOUTH:
Sidmouth, ah Sidmouth! 'Smaller, older and more gracious than Torquay,' as John Betjeman once said. Here it is as I found it one unusually hot day in early October. The music here is kindly provided by the Cheltenham musicians, John and Jaye Vickers, also known as 'Klezmerpolitan' and comes from their CD 'Tea For Two.'

Huw Parsons was born in 1954, grew up in Llyswen, near Hay on Wye, and educated at Brecon Boys’ Grammar School and Chelsea College of Art.

He feels neither wholly English nor particularly Welsh, with his life’s diversity a social impostor and a cultural chameleon.

His influences: the poems of John Betjeman & Phillip Larkin, the novels of Leslie Thomas, the song lyrics of Sting & Jake Thackray.

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