Tag Archives: poetry

How the Government thinks

Friday 30th October 2026, 12.25pm (day 5,545)

Government code, 30/10/26

A gem from the National Archives. Some context: this is a letter regarding the 1922 transfer of Ascension Island from the Admiralty (up until then it was officially a ship, HMS Ascension) to the jurisdiction of the Governor of St Helena. “Letters Patent” are papers from the Crown that appoint someone to an official role. What the letter actually says is: “Your let[ter?] 10th July Ascension Letters Patent being passed and will be forwarded as soon as possible. Adm[iralt]y state withdrawal of garrison September 1st impracticable and have instructed Commandant Ascension to report final date of withdrawal a month beforehand. Letters Patent should be proclaimed after withdrawal.”

Not the most politically sensitive information, you’d think, although I suppose information that Ascension Island was about to be demilitarised might be of interest to some. Either way, whatever actually got transmitted is presumably the red text, which, if I’ve interpreted the order correctly, goes something like: UNHEEDEDLY LAPGELD PALLETED FORCEMEAT SEWINGBIRD. ACEPHALIC GAUNTERIST SAGEWOOD ILLUDE INKINGPAD RENIDORA DANDERED ONE MOONBEAM. LAPGELD SECUTANA PROCLAIMED AFTER GAUNTERIST.

I like the ‘One Moonbeam’ particularly. Whoever was coming up with this stuff in 1922 deserves some kind of award for sheer poetry.

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Poetry and plant

Tuesday 11th August 2020, 1.25pm (day 3,274)

Poetry, 11/8/20

The second day in a row with an explicitly circular theme.  The scene appeared during my first use of C’s treatment room as a work venue for a few weeks, in which time some changes have indiscernibly happened among the decorations and words to ponder.

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Watershed

Monday 20th July 2020, 2.15pm (day 3,252)

Watershed, 20/7/20

I went on a walk today along the Rochdale Canal from Littleborough to Walsden. Along that route one passes across the main watershed of northern England, which is marked by this sculpture, and poetry that you may enjoy (although the third and fourth lines are illegible on this reproduction — my apologies).  If I were to have passed water at this spot, random chance would have led to it either bouncing to the left, and thus flowing into the Irish Sea at via the rivers Roch, Irwell and Mersey.  Or, to the right — to flow into the North Sea, via the Calder, Aire and Humber.  A very real line — as the poem says, a “liquid equinox” — but not a visible one, not without this memorial.  Nice touch.

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