sovay mentioned the writer Bryher the other day, and now she's turned up again, this time in her insular aspect. I've always felt an interest in both Bryhers, not least I suppose because we who are named after islands enjoy a natural kithship; also because she published the most expensive book I ever bought (not for myself), a copy of Mary Butts's Last Stories, which was meant to have been pulped after the author's death in 1937 but a few of which escaped the shredder. Also, now I think about it, Bryher is linked in my mind with Hope Mirrlees and Alice B. Toklas, all being in some sense the talented but junior partners in their respective relationships with other women, at a time when it was largely necessary to design and build that ship as you were sailing it. Probably this is a facile comparison - but the association is there, for better or worse.
Anyway, this entry is mostly to recommend people who share my liking for accounts of low-tide walks and of drowned lands to listen to today's Open Country, which documents a walk across the once-inhabited landscape between Tresco and Bryher, now usually hidden by the estranging sea but revealed at spring low tide. I like to think that both Bryher and HD - that most archaeological of poets - would have enjoyed it.
- To Bryher by Foot