Sweet Thing by Van Morrison has an atmosphere full of tenderness, wonder and joy. But underneath this there a feeling of transience, a melancholy sense of things coming to an end, and of inevitable change. It was written for his 1968 album Astral Weeks, at a time when the Northern Irish born Van had left his home country and was down-and-out in Boston, USA. We hear how the track has come to mean so much to so many. Caroline Mellor from Brighton remembers an intense moment of hearing Sweet Thing whilst staying in the mountains of Andalucía, Spain. Sammy Douglas, Councillor and current High Sheriff of Belfast, reflects on memories of the Troubles and how the song intertwines with the tale of his first love. Ryan H. Walsh, Bostonian and author of Astral Weeks: A Secret History of 1968, explains how the seminal album Astral Weeks came about, and John Payne, flautist on Sweet Thing, shares memories of those extraordinary recording sessions with Van Morrison. And singer-songwriter Alanna Joy from South Africa considers why she opens her live sets with her own rendition of Sweet Thing, and recalls hearing it for the first time through Jeff Buckley's cover. Produced by Eliza Lomas for BBC Audio in Bristol Technical Producer: Ilse Lademann Editor: Emma Harding.
I'm Rory Stewart, and I want to talk about ignorance.
I will die without having read everything that was written in classical Latin.
Because ignorance isn't simply the opposite of knowledge.
It's part of what it means to be human.
Just about every game I can think of involves ignorance.
There's no adventure without ignorance.
There's no narrative.
The long history of ignorance, from Confucius to QAnon.
With me, Rory Stewart, listen on BBC.
Sounds, BBC sounds music radio podcasts.
It was very peaceful.
It was springtime.
I can remember there was a soft breeze blowing over the mountainside in the olive groves.
The sun was shining, and I think the atmosphere was very similar to the atmosphere of the song.
It sounds a little like a soft spring breeze.
Sweet thing by Van Morrison.
It sounds a lot like a memory.
And it also takes us to a place where every.
Everything somehow already happened, even everything that could have happened has already happened.
And I will stroll in my wind, jump ahead.