Hansel and Gretel's Breadcrumbs
- Susie Dent found Hansel and Gretel unsettling as a child.
- She appreciates the theory connecting the breadcrumbs to internet cookies.
Celebrating Lewis Carroll
- Giles Brandreth attended a Lewis Carroll Society event in Oxford.
- Descendants of both Carroll and Alice Liddell were present.
Fairies and Fate
- Fairies, originally linked to fate, were seen as powerful beings.
- Their spelling "faerie" first appeared in Spenser's The Faerie Queene, celebrating Queen Elizabeth I.
This week Susie and Gyles delve into the spellbinding world of folklore and unravel the intricate tapestry of its etymology.
Together, they cover mystical creatures, elements and charms of this fictional realm.
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Enjoy Susie’s Trio for the week:
Bywhopen (now obsolete): Made senseless; stupefied.
Heartspoon: A part of the breastbone.
Coccyx: a triangular arrangement of bone that makes up the very bottom portion of the spine below the sacrum.
Gyles' poem this week was ‘The ‘Fairies by William Allingham
Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren’t go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owl’s feather!
Down along the rocky shore
Some make their home,
They live on crispy pancakes
Of yellow tide-foam;
Some in the reeds
Of the black mountain-lake,
With frogs for their watchdogs,
All night awake.
High on the hill-top
The old King sits;
He is now so old and grey
He’s nigh lost his wits.
With a bridge of white mist
Columbkill he crosses,
On his stately journeys
From Slieveleague to Rosses;
Or going up with music
On cold starry nights,
To sup with the Queen
Of the gay Northern Lights.
They stole little Bridget
For seven years long;
When she came down again
Her friends were all gone.
They took her lightly back,
Between the night and morrow,
They thought that she was fast asleep,
But she was dead with sorrow.
They have kept her ever since
Deep within the lake,
On a bed of flag-leaves,
Watching till she wake.
By the craggy hillside,
Through the mosses bare,
They have planted thorn trees
For pleasure, here and there.
Is any man so daring
As dig them up in spite,
He shall find their sharpest thorns
In his bed at night.
Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren’t go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owl’s feather!
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