Catriona Urquhart, Poet. 1953 -2005 Dearest Catriona It’s sixteen years since you left us on May Day 2005. I didn’t believe it at the time, and I don’t believe it now. Your voice is as clear and true in my … Continue reading
I remember my friend Ian telling me that he and Catriona had risen in the dark of May Day and driven from their home in Caerleon to Oxford to be present in time to hear the choristers of Magdalen College … Continue reading
It’s been eleven years since you left us on May Day 2005. I was sitting in your chair at the top of the garden at Penparc Cottage thinking about you when the call came. I heard the phone ringing, heard … Continue reading
It’s May Day 2014, and the ninth anniversary of the death of my friend Catriona Urquhart. May Day was significant to her in so many ways. She once phoned me from Oxford at the crack of a May Day … Continue reading
Some anniversaries pass by un-noticed because our lives are such a hustle and bustle of work, play, duty, deadlines and all-sorts. One passed me by yesterday, so deep into preparations was I for the forthcoming presentation of The Soldier’s Tale … Continue reading
… … … … … When Peter and I and his brother Andrew acquired the cottage over a decade ago, one of the first things we planned to do was change the blue-enamelled bath for a white one. Not long … Continue reading
Catriona’s Jug 2001 (Read about the jug HERE) As spring manifests everywhere around us my thoughts turn to my friend Catriona Urquhart, who while she never saw the garden at Ty Isaf, nevertheless exerts a tangible influence over what we have … Continue reading
I’ve written before on the Artlog about Catriona Urquhart. Catriona provided the poetic text for my breakthrough exhibition in 2001, The Mare’s Tale, and before that she’d written the short story Palmyra Jones as a birthday present for Peter, published in … Continue reading
Five years ago today my friend Catriona Urquhart died. At the time we all said it could be no accident that she’d left us on May Day, that turning point of the year she’d always celebrated for being about everything … Continue reading
In her poem Mares’ Tails Catriona Urquhart recalls the narrator’s unease at the sight of linen bed-sheets on his mother’s washing-line. In this and all but two of the titles in the poetry collection, the poet ventriloquises her subject, my … Continue reading
Clive Hicks-Jenkins' Artlog: 