To say you’re welcome were superfluous.
To place upon the volume of your deeds,
As in a title-page, your worth in arms,
Were more than you expect, or more than’s fit,
Since every worth in show commends itself.
Prepare for mirth, for mirth becomes a feast:
You are princes and my guests.
Pericles, Prince of Tyre, Act II, Scene 3
Welcome to my feast of mirth. Think of it as Hedingham Internet, my virtual castle. It’s where I do my writing nowadays. A blog is far more convenient than stacks of ink-besmeared pages, and much harder to lose. (Or hide, or destroy…)
It’s so very difficult to talk about Shakespeare on Twitter. If I wasn’t already dead, it would kill me. Brevity may be the soul of wit, but 140 characters just doesn’t get the job done.
.
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s
.
I rest my case.
And so a blog, for the things that need space. I tweet links to anything I post here, so if you bookmark this site and follow @edevere17 on Twitter, you’ll see everything. Twitter is also where to reach me for comments or questions. I like to keep the conversation all in one place.
I hope you’ll honour me with your continued interest.
.
VERO NIHIL VERIUS
