Amazing Aretha

Back to the beginning…

Where Aretha found her voice, sung out her soul. She imbues energy, faith and passion.


Taking people from their ordinary lives and transporting them somewhere higher and making them believe….

Featuring the great comedic spirit of reverend James Cleveland, in the presence of Aretha’s father and Jesse Jackson. Even spotted Mick Jagger waving his hands to the choir and the small band… this intoxicating rhythm of gospel.

Filled of Philips!

Philip Larkin born in the suburbs of Coventry on 9th August, 1922. He was named after the Renaissance poet Sir Philip Sydney.


‘What are days for?

Days are where we live.

They come, they wake us

Time and time over

They are to be happy in:

Where can we live but in days?’

Sir Philip Sydney, the well-connected, charmed, ‘silver-spoon’ Elizabethan gentleman, was born at Penshurst Place, Kent in November 1554. His godfather was King Philip II of Spain.

In 1586 he was fighting in battle for the Protestant cause against the Spanish when he was wounded in the thigh; he died 26 days later of gangrene aged only 31 years. Whilst lying there he composed a song to be sung on his deathbed. Forever the poet.
From Astrophil and Stella XXXI

‘With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb’st the skies

How silently, and with how wan a face!’


Harvest Hymns are Poems set to Music!

In golden fields grows the wavy wheat, harvest is the time to reap,

Sort and grind the ripened grain, before the clouds send showers of rain.

Let’s take a look at some of the traditional hymns for Harvest, which are really lovely bright verses of (religious) poetry:

‘We plough the fields, and scatter
The good seed on the land,
But it is fed and watered
By God’s almighty hand…’

This has been translated by J.M Campbell from the German, M.Claudius, 1740-1815
‘Wir pflungen und wir streuen’ = We plough and we scatter

Cornfields by Eleanor Farjeon, 1881-1965
‘Fields of corn, give up your ears,
Now your ears are heavy,
Wheat and oats and barley-spears,
All your harvest-levy…’

By H. Alford, 1810-71
‘Come, ye thankful people, come
Raise the song of harvest-home!
All be safely gathered in,
Ere the winter storms begin…’

Out in the English wheat fields, tractors and harvesters are ploughing, cutting and sorting the grain – the hard work of farming is at its busiest now.
The packed, finely milled flours on the shop shelves starts here, in golden fields.