{"id":2690,"date":"2021-10-21T18:15:27","date_gmt":"2021-10-21T10:15:27","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.nolligan.ie\/SU\/?p=2690"},"modified":"2021-11-27T15:22:42","modified_gmt":"2021-11-27T07:22:42","slug":"church-of-st-mary-the-virgin-adderbury","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.nolligan.ie\/SU\/church-of-st-mary-the-virgin-adderbury\/","title":{"rendered":"Church of St Mary the Virgin, Adderbury"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<figure class=\"wp-block-image size-full\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.nolligan.ie\/SU\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/10\/1024px-St_Mary_Adderbury_1.jpg\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"1024\" height=\"768\" src=\"https:\/\/www.nolligan.ie\/SU\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/10\/1024px-St_Mary_Adderbury_1.jpg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-2691\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.nolligan.ie\/SU\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/10\/1024px-St_Mary_Adderbury_1.jpg 1024w, https:\/\/www.nolligan.ie\/SU\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/10\/1024px-St_Mary_Adderbury_1-300x225.jpg 300w, https:\/\/www.nolligan.ie\/SU\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/10\/1024px-St_Mary_Adderbury_1-768x576.jpg 768w, https:\/\/www.nolligan.ie\/SU\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/10\/1024px-St_Mary_Adderbury_1-400x300.jpg 400w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 1024px) 100vw, 1024px\" \/><\/a><figcaption>Church of St Mary the Virgin, East Adderbury.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-embed is-type-video is-provider-youtube wp-block-embed-youtube wp-embed-aspect-16-9 wp-has-aspect-ratio\"><div class=\"wp-block-embed__wrapper\">\n<iframe loading=\"lazy\" title=\"Philip Larkin reading his poem &quot;Church Going.&quot;\" width=\"584\" height=\"329\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/mN_vWfSgWe4?feature=oembed\" frameborder=\"0\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share\" referrerpolicy=\"strict-origin-when-cross-origin\" allowfullscreen><\/iframe>\n<\/div><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<figure class=\"wp-block-table\"><table><tbody><tr><td><strong>Church Going<\/strong> <br>by Philip Larkin (1922-1985)<br><br>Once I am sure there&#8217;s nothing going on&nbsp;<br>I step inside, letting the door thud shut.&nbsp;<br>Another church: matting, seats, and stone,&nbsp;<br>And little books; sprawlings of flowers, cut&nbsp;<br>For Sunday, brownish now; some brass and stuff&nbsp;<br>Up at the holy end; the small neat organ;&nbsp;<br>And a tense, musty, unignorable silence,&nbsp;<br>Brewed God knows how long. Hatless, I take off<br>My cycle-clips in awkward reverence,&nbsp;<br><br>Move forward, run my hand around the font.<br>From where I stand, the roof looks almost new-<br>Cleaned or restored? Someone would know: I don&#8217;t.&nbsp;<br>Mounting the lectern, I peruse a few&nbsp;<br>Hectoring large-scale verses, and pronounce<br>&#8220;Here endeth&#8221; much more loudly than I&#8217;d meant.&nbsp;<br>The echoes snigger briefly. Back at the door&nbsp;<br>I sign the book, donate an Irish sixpence,&nbsp;<br>Reflect the place was not worth stopping for.&nbsp;<br><br>Yet stop I did: in fact I often do,&nbsp;<br>And always end much at a loss like this,<br>Wondering what to look for; wondering, too,&nbsp;<br>When churches fall completely out of use&nbsp;<br>What we shall turn them into, if we shall keep<br>A few cathedrals chronically on show,&nbsp;<br>Their parchment, plate, and pyx in locked cases,<br>And let the rest rent-free to rain and sheep.&nbsp;<br>Shall we avoid them as unlucky places?&nbsp;<br><br>Or, after dark, will dubious women come&nbsp;<br>To make their children touch a particular stone;<br>Pick simples for a cancer; or on some&nbsp;<br>Advised night see walking a dead one?&nbsp;<br>Power of some sort or other will go on&nbsp;<br>In games, in riddles, seemingly at random;&nbsp;<br>But superstition, like belief, must die,&nbsp;<br>And what remains when disbelief has gone?&nbsp;<br>Grass, weedy pavement, brambles, buttress, sky,<br><br>A shape less recognizable each week,&nbsp;<br>A purpose more obscure. I wonder who&nbsp;<br>Will be the last, the very last, to seek&nbsp;<br>This place for what it was; one of the crew&nbsp;<br>That tap and jot and know what rood-lofts were?&nbsp;<br>Some ruin-bibber, randy for antique,&nbsp;<br>Or Christmas-addict, counting on a whiff&nbsp;<br>Of gown-and-bands and organ-pipes and myrrh?&nbsp;<br>Or will he be my representative,&nbsp;<br><br>Bored, uninformed, knowing the ghostly silt<br>Dispersed, yet tending to this cross of ground&nbsp;<br>Through suburb scrub because it held unspilt&nbsp;<br>So long and equably what since is found&nbsp;<br>Only in separation \u2013 marriage, and birth,&nbsp;<br>And death, and thoughts of these \u2013 for whom was built<br>This special shell? For, though I&#8217;ve no idea&nbsp;<br>What this accoutred frowsty barn is worth,&nbsp;<br>It pleases me to stand in silence here;&nbsp;<br><br>A serious house on serious earth it is,&nbsp;<br>In whose blent air all our compulsions meet,<br>Are recognised, and robed as destinies.&nbsp;<br>And that much never can be obsolete,&nbsp;<br>Since someone will forever be surprising&nbsp;<br>A hunger in himself to be more serious,&nbsp;<br>And gravitating with it to this ground,&nbsp;<br>Which, he once heard, was proper to grow wise in,<br>If only that so many dead lie round.<\/td><\/tr><\/tbody><\/table><\/figure>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Church Going by Philip Larkin (1922-1985) Once I am sure there&#8217;s nothing going on&nbsp;I step inside, letting the door thud shut.&nbsp;Another church: matting, seats, and stone,&nbsp;And little books; sprawlings of flowers, cut&nbsp;For Sunday, brownish now; some brass and stuff&nbsp;Up at &hellip; <a href=\"http:\/\/www.nolligan.ie\/SU\/church-of-st-mary-the-virgin-adderbury\/\">Continue reading <span class=\"meta-nav\">&rarr;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_crdt_document":"","_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[14,8],"tags":[68,67,69],"class_list":["post-2690","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry","category-uk","tag-philip-larkin","tag-poetry","tag-uk"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.nolligan.ie\/SU\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2690","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.nolligan.ie\/SU\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.nolligan.ie\/SU\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nolligan.ie\/SU\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nolligan.ie\/SU\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2690"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/www.nolligan.ie\/SU\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2690\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2693,"href":"http:\/\/www.nolligan.ie\/SU\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2690\/revisions\/2693"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/www.nolligan.ie\/SU\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2690"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nolligan.ie\/SU\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2690"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/www.nolligan.ie\/SU\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2690"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}