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Here is a repository of the texts of my together with some readings of them. The essays are broadcast by WXXI of Rochester, NY on Salmagundy each Saturday at 9:35am Eastern Time, and on WCLV's syndicated Weekend Radio on many (mainly NPRish) stations traditionally on the first and third weekends of the month, though your weekendage may vary, (these are archived for a couple of months). Richard Howland-Bolton |
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From time to time, I've had comments about the digressive-ity and aside-iness of these essays, not to mention the fact that up to half the content, and often almost all of the meaning in them is hidden away in feetnote1 ...feetnote which aren't even available without going to the considerable effort of getting online, going to my website, finding the essay, reading the bloody thing and finally scrolling down to the putative note, an effort which is, I freely admit, sometimes just not worth the effort.
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Just for the record let me state, right off the bat, the little-known fact that we (i.e. the British) won the War of 1812 .
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It's a strange thing to me, as an Englishman over here, but it seems that deep down inside almost all Americans is a longing for somewhere else.
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Contemplate, if you will for a moment, the following list of illustrious persons:
Albrecht Dürer
Buzz Aldrin
Alexander the Great
Queen Victoria
Edward R. Murrow
Lewis Carroll
Michelangelo
Charlemagne
Raphael
James Baldwin
Leonardo da Vinci
Charlie Chaplin
Sir Isaac Newton
And of course me.
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With all the media attention being given to the lead-up to that silly Upcoming Olympic Thingie in Beijing I thought that this is an appropriate time for me to tell you a little known part of the history...
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With all the bouncing back and forth across the Atlantic that I’d had to do for a whole month, when everything was finally over and I was about to bounce back to Texas for what I hoped and still hope was going to be the actual last time till my next actual vacation (which with any luck will actually be next year), I thought I’d spend a whole day in London with friends putting Dr Johnson’s comment “No, Sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life”1 to good use.
... One way or another.
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Although most of the time I manage to disguise the fact rather well, these essays are supposed to be funny---or at least mildly amusing.
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 You would immediately know that I’m back in England for a visit if you could see me now---just one glance at the dripping raincoat and the soaked trouser legs and the sodden shoes (not, for the sake of decency, to even mention the state of the socks)---well, of course all that coupled with the sudden and horrible realisation that I’m writing this on not only Memorial Day back here, or over there, or wherever General Relativity Theory happens to put it; but also on what happens (either by chance, or by undue American Influence or by the forces of General Globalisation not to mention General Relativity Theory) to be the Great British Spring Bank Holiday over here, um, back there, or wherever General Relativity Theory happens to put that.
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As a codicil to the essay on our celebrations of St Godric the other week (and before we start let me say, in good eremitical flesh-mortifying fashion that I hope you all found your turnip as nicely raw as you could desire and as horribly stale) ... anyway I have to deal with a comment I received to the effect that St Godric wasn’t the most Famous English composer of the Twelfth Century, but that Richard I was.
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Ahh! May the twentieth is fast approaching! Oh! The excitement is growing, and Oh! Godrices Eve will soon be here together with all those wonderful celebrations associated with that one-time pirate who made good and became a hermit and then topped it all by becoming without a doubt England’s greatest known composer of the twelfth century.
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