Geoffrey Hill by Gail McNeillieOil on Canvas, 2007, 50cm x 50cmPurchased by Emmanuel College, Cambridge
It was the poet and critic Peter McDonald who introduced us in the end and it began with a phone call. There was a question that Clutag . . . → Read More: Geoffrey Hill (1932-2016)
A week ago at the time of writing this, I had an email from Philip Marsden, one of our prized Archipelago contributors. He told me: ‘I leave for Dingle at dawn on Friday’. It was the stirring opening to a poem, for . . . → Read More: Sailing to an Island
To sign up for the Atlantic Archipelagos Research Consortium / Archipelago event at Somerville College, Oxford, on Saturday 14 November 2015 please follow the link here:
You can book for either the day’s events or the evening’s performances or both.
We very much look . . . → Read More: UNENCOMPASSING
Interview: Andrew McNeillie Andrew McNeillie was born in North Wales and read English at Magdalen College, Oxford. An editor and publisher, including a stint as literature editor at Oxford University Press, he has also held a… Read more…
Listen to Andrew McNeillie interviewed as . . . → Read More: Devolved Voices
In large capitals on the lighthouse But caught too late for us to change course. We sail towards catastrophe. Our epitaph-in-waiting: lost at sea. Sure of this in all the world: The sea alone will keep its word.
. . . → Read More: No Passage to Landward
A hardy reader of the magazine scuba diving off Slyne Head in the cold March seas has just tweeted the two images reproduced here, top and bottom. We are pleased to re-tweet and hope you will all follow suit. A free . . . → Read More: Night & Day
I keep his compass on my desk That it might steer me home. A gift his widow gave me with His hand-drawn charts of wrecks. Hotspots to fish; and a mackerel line On a bleached wooden frame With . . . → Read More: The Eighth Sea
We’ve been holed up proofing Issue 9 at our favourite hideaway quay in the wild west. The place is otherwise more or less unused other than by seabirds, hoodie crows, and the occasional lobster looking for a telephone. Unused, that is, except for . . . → Read More: Hope and Anchor
Who goes to sea knows heart’s care. Groves blossom burghs grow fair meadows beautiful. World quickens. All things urge spirit to embark fare far by flood-ways though melancholy call of summer’s lord the cuckoo bode . . . → Read More: ‘From the Wheelhouse . . .’
This is to mark the death of Iain Munro, crofter, boatman, and inspiration to all who had the privilege of meeting him. He drowned on the night of Friday 15 May, off the north coast of Ulva, making headway to Gometra, . . . → Read More: ‘The beautiful island . . .’