Hilaire Belloc bought King's Land (in Shipley, Sussex), 5 acres and a working windmill for £1000 in 1907 and it was his home for the rest of his life. Belloc loved Sussex as few other writers have loved her: he lived there for most of his 83 years, he tramped the length and breadth of the county, slept under her hedgerows, drank in her inns, sailed her coast and her rivers and wrote several incomparable books about her. "He does not die that can bequeath Some influence to the land he knows, Or dares, persistent, interwreath Love permanent with the wild hedgerows; He does not die, but still remains Substantiate with his darling plains."

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Friday, 5 August 2011

Another blog...

Yes, very possibly just another blog but we will see. This blog is dedicated to the living memory of the great Ango-French writer Hilaire Belloc. There is so much of him (and there was physically as well) that it is difficult to know where to start. But he had much to say about many things and many people. From Crecy to Tourcoing, from Wine to Beer and from Catherine of Aragon to Robespierre. So when he was not writing about Something he, invariably enough, was writing about Everything. He even had time to write about Nothing.

I welcome contributions to this site in the form of reasoned submissions (articles and comments). Comments can be added to posts and articles can be sent to

In true Bellocian spirit I will only seek to offend if I feel that it serves some purpose. In the meantime:

May all good fellows that here agree Drink audit ale in heaven with me,
And may all my enemies go to hell!
Noel! Noel! Noel! Noel!
May all my enemies go to hell!
Noel! Noel!

(From The Four Men)

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