Just a few blocks down the street is the Eagle and Child, home of the original Rabbit Room, and in every ancient nook and cranny of these old spires and streets and trees and pubs there’s a hint of old poetry or a remnant of a good story. Gerard Manley Hopkins said mass in the mornings and scratched out verse in these backrooms and garden walks. Dorothy Sayers plotted out her mysteries just around the corner. Professor Tolkien noted the prancing pony on the shingle of the White Horse over there. And Lewis walked ’round the water meadow one morning and dreamt of summer coming true.
All these years and tales and songs later, here we are.
The doors are open. Come on in. We’ve spent a lot of sweat and tears and prayer in putting the weekend together, and we can’t wait for you to join us. JJ is in the kitchen and supper smells fine. Let’s get busy. Convene the Hutchmoot.