A Confession from 1978

Guilt. It's a terrible thing. I now have a very responsible job telling Bible stories to children- with some of the nasty bits left in, because they like it that way. They do ask interesting questions. Often, I prefer their answers to anything I’ve got. But since I am meant to be a bearer of Truth, it behoves me to finally unburden myself of a deed that insulted an entire nation. Yes, it’s that big...

Barcelona, Two Days On- A Different Kind of Silence

Stress. It’s all relative. Last Sunday, Mrs PGD and I were stressed out by news that our planned two-day break in Barcelona would be wrecked by an airport security guard strike.

'Baby Driver'- a great sound and fury signifying nothing....

How does a film like this get 4 or 5 stars?



Critic reviews
'An awe-inspiring piece of filmmaking from Edgar Wright that plays out as a musical through the lens of an action thriller.' Terri White-  Empire
'Will resonate most with audiences that skew young, hip, and, like its helmer and its hero (the latter played by baby-faced "The Fault in Our Stars" star Ansel Elgort), more than a little obsessive '.Peter Debruge- Variety

Well, we went to see it, and good grief... what a letdown. Like a 4th of July firework display- Baby Driver is full of artistic light, colour and very loud bangs- but in the end, all you're left with is a mind-numbing pile of toxic ash.

To begin with, the plot sounds promising. A crime lord's young getaway driver is trying to get out of his current profession, gradually working his way towards paying off a debt- to find it's not as easy as he hoped. And so we see him trying to engineer an escape, but it all goes wrong. That's it, really.

What's bowled the critics over and set them scurrying for their superlatives is director Edgar Wright's clever use of classic pop hits to choreograph and colour the action. One case in point: the crime lord's explanation of the details of an upcoming heist, all set to the rhythms of Dave Brubeck's 'Unsquare Dance', with syncopated gestures, tapping fingers and sudden eye movements. Through the first half of the film, this device works like a dream... Remember John Travolta's walk along the sidewalk at the introduction to 'Saturday Night Fever'? It's even better than that.

But then the violence kicks in. Oh boy. All that directorial wit is blown to bits as more and more people are brutalised, bludgeoned, and shot. There's a massive body-count in this film, and an insane level of gunplay. In the past, classic gangster films like 'Heat' or 'The Godfather Part 2' gave this sort of realistic violence a moral context that didn't celebrate the taking of human life, but showed the increasing corruption of those who did. By contrast, 'Baby Driver' is sentimental guff, As the violence increases, so the characters become increasingly two-dimensional and disposable. Perhaps (accidentally) that's the point of this film. Violence degrades everyone, including the imagination of everyone unfortunate to see films like this.

So yes, 'Baby Driver' is definitely clever- but by the end, you forget why you were enjoying it at the beginning.

What… Just Happened?

Weird things happen to me all the time. This happened on Sunday afternoon.

It was 3.30 pm when I turned up with my guitar at a local church building within our parish, to help lead the singing. ‘Family Communion’ is one of our experiments that uses a non-traditional approach to ‘do church’ with a wider range of people than the regular faithful- but you never know what’s going to happen.
Today, I turned up to see a bunch of ten local kids at the back. We’ve had low-level trouble before, with walls being climbed, property outside being damaged, that sort of thing. Our curate found these ones hanging around outside when she was opening up, and invited them in- so there they were now, sitting at the back, eating their Pringles and being a bit rowdy. A few of our elderly congregation were also filing in, looking rather apprehensive at seeing the newcomers.

When it was nearly time to start, our curate (who knew most of the kids by name), invited them to come up and sit with the rest of us at the front, which they grudgingly did, with lots of giggles and occasional bleeps from their mobile phones. Yes, we were going to try and make this worship thing happen, altogether. I was inwardly cringing, but asked for a Pringle from one of the kids, and was given it. Making personal connections, you see. Always important, not that I know much about it.

So I set up my music stand and guitar to the side, sitting amongst our rather mixed congregation, and started strumming to give the place some atmosphere, as you do. One of the older people was staring daggers at the kids- she wasn’t finding this easy at all, but who does? I definitely wasn’t.

We began. After a quick introduction, our curate got me leading with a very simple ‘Thank you ‘ song which includes spaces for inserting different subjects, and I asked everyone for ideas. What could we be thankful for? ‘Me!’ said one kid, to giggles. ‘God loving us’ said another. We sang ‘Thank you God for loving us’, and added verses about our world and our families. Then our curate went straight into talking about a recent visit she’d made to a friend working with survivors of the Grenfell tower disaster, and the idea of God helping us to keep a heart that stays strong although the outside can be broken or bruised by the horrible things that happen in life. Despite some sniggers, most of the kids were listening hard. More beeps from a phone, and the others told him to turn it off. We wrote down subjects for prayer on post-it notes, handed them in for shared prayer, then sang another song about a faithful God being with us despite everything that life can throw at us.

Some of the natives were restless- so our curate gave them a choice: stay and take part or go out, and come back later for cake. A couple left, the rest chose to stay. We shared the Peace, asking the names of anyone whose names we didn’t know, then began sharing a simple communion liturgy. Everyone was taking part. One of the kids was given the job of taking the bread around, and saying ‘The Body of Christ’ as it was handed over. I began a song (‘Bless the Lord O my soul’) and the kids spontaneously joined in, some singing with real passion as they followed the words on the projector screen. We finished with a traditional hymn, and bless them, they all gave it a go- but at the end, asked if we could do the ‘Bless the Lord’ song again because they really liked it.

As we sat down later, talking over tea, cake and biscuits, some of them told me they wished their school taught them more about God and gave them somewhere to go and pray when they felt all worked up inside. As they left, those of us adults nominally in charge of events wondered and marvelled at what had just happened. God turned up. Worrying, really, when you think about it. What should we do next?

Alien:Covenant. Big Stuff... with teeth, John Milton, and no obvious plot spoilers

A few years ago, a local museum staged a cut-down exhibition called 'Invaders from Space'- a collection of SF film memorabilia and fan artwork. I'm a sucker for this stuff and it was great fun, but one room had as its centrepiece, a fully-grown Alien from the film series- and something about it was so horrible, I couldn't bear to approach it for a closer look. Other visitors were wandering around with their children and had no problem showing off the fake beasty to their kids. Me, I hung back. It was strange. This was just a costume from a film-set, but I'm a usually-functioning-adult-male with an over-active imagination. There was nobody in there, but it was too close, too real. Why did it have that effect? I've just discovered How.

Watching someone lose it

How... sad.

A few years ago at the Edinburgh Festival, I went with a friend to see a stunning performer whose music and wit lined the Radio 4 airways with comedy for many years. His topical songs had bite, with startling levels of musicianship that made unpalatable ideas actually worth listening to. Because it was so late, and because the trains from Edinburgh shut down so early, my friend and I spent the night wandering round Edinburgh, waiting for the first morning train home. Crazy? Yes, but utterly worth it. That gig was honestly one of the best I've ever seen- despite the performer having a sore throat, constantly dosing himself with swigs of something antiseptic. He covered every style and groove, even improvising a new song to a theme shouted out by a member of the audience (Me), and generally oozed talent. If the Festival is a trade fair, then that’s the way to do it.

Last night, we went to see him again in Newcastle... but walked out at half-time. He’s a changed man. Swearing can sometimes be funny, but not this time. The show was so full of defiant bitterness, and it felt uncomfortable for us to be there as witnesses to someone else's grief. With rage and bafflement, the man described how his marriage broke down two years ago, and how strange it was to be now living alone. His demeanour and language were understandably full of rage, and the air was frequently blue. (At Edinburgh, he hadn’t sworn once.) This show had been on the road for several months, so there’d been plenty of time to iron out the glitches- so what we were seeing and hearing were presumably, exactly what he wanted us to hear.

Grief and anger can turn people extremely bitter, consuming them until they lose grasp of who they are. Perhaps, like Tourette’s syndrome, the experience draws out parts of the personality normally hidden by convention or fear of exposure. I used to know a frustrated vicar whose sermons were described by a curate as 'bleeding all over his congregation', and last night felt just like that. Creative types don’t have it easy- and the trouble with being creative is… it can’t deliver you from life’s chasms. In fact, it can even make things worse, because you feel it more than many others, and the only way to express it is through your art.

Of course, every show has to be a crafted performance, even if someone's talking about their personal problems- so none of us watching, ever really know what's really going on inside a performer's life or head. But this evening seemed to be so full of angry despair, it was painful- except for one moment. There was one beautiful song, a touching tribute to Victoria Wood, that was so full of affection and admiration and respect.... and heart. It was the kind of song I remember hearing in Edinburgh, the sort that celebrated humanity in all its weirdness and made you feel glad to be alive and present in the room.

As it was, this gig felt like a suicide note set to music. I hope one day, he can find something good to believe in, at the end of all this- and finds himself again.

Unbelievable?

It's a tough life, visiting exotic locales, taking in the sun on a foreign shore, tasting the local brews and wandering the winding streets of a mediaeval city- but someone's got to do it. Venice can be a frantic buzz, bursting full of other people just like me who have the cheek to be there at the same time, and looking at the same things ... but there are quieter places where hardly anyone gets mugged, you rarely tread in something awful, and a sense of history echoes back to the sound of your own footsteps.

Sunday was my chance to see Damien Hurst's latest offering: his new exhibition staged for the Venice Biennialle, 'Treasures from the Wreck of the Unbelievable'. 

The Guardian loves it... 

(https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2017/apr/06/damien-hirst-treasures-from-the-wreck-of-the-unbelievable-review-titanic-return...)

... the Telegraph sort-of-hates it, (http://www.telegraph.co.uk/art/what-to-see/damien-hirst-treasures-wreck-unbelievable-review-spectacular/)

….  but if you're not popping over to Venice in the next 6 months, then here's wot Our Damien has been up to, using his millions to create some Big Art about Truth, Lies. Faith, Belief, and Remembering. As you enter, 'authentic' film footage recounts the story of a fabulous treasure ship from the second century, newly discovered on the bed of the Indian Ocean. The museum entrance sports the following quote over the entrance:

With that we're off, wandering around displays of 'discovered' objects from the sea-bed that owe more to the stop-motion cinematic genius of Ray Harryhausen ('Clash of the Titans', 'Jason and the Argonauts'...) than real history- but never mind. There are monsters,  heroes, heroines, gods and demi-gods. Amidst the swords and sorcery, there’s occasionally a hint of real human feeling lurking inside all the cleverness- but let's start with the awesome stuff. Imagine an 18 metre-tall cast-metal giant demon, headless, bursting with muscular malevolence. It's a colossus, a gob-smackingly big piece of engineering that makes you wonder how they even got it into the building (through the roof, apparently).

There's a horse-rider under attack from an enormous sea-serpent, and evidently not enjoying the experience.

Here's a magnificently resplendent mermaid, blasting up from the waves accompanied by sundry crustaceans, molluscs and other assorted denizens of the deep.

Clash of the Titans-territory again. Andromeda, menaced by the approaching Kraken without a rescuer in sight.

A Warrior-woman rides into battle astride a rearing Grizzly.

The Hindu goddess Kali meets the Hydra of Greek myth in a celebrity death-match- underwater.

A massive Sun-disc from the time of the Incas- and Indiana Jones.

But Our Damien is throwing in clues all the time. Can you spot one here?

Third one down. I probably bought my grandson one when he was six. Now check out these helmets.

Nobody ever made winged helmets like that. (They get knocked off too easily in battle, unless you're an extra in Lord of the Rings.) As for the goddess Kali's swords- they're mediaeval two-handed broadswords from North-Western Europe, not the usual tableware for a Hindu deity. 

This 'Proteus' is actually based on John Merrick, the original Elephant Man of the Victorian era (a gentle human being).

And this? The original lab-rat from a rather dubious experiment appeared on Have I Got News For You as the end-of-show caption competition. (Paul Merton: 'Pardon?')

This is Quexacoatl, the Mexican snake god. Or is it Optimus Prime?

So by the time you get to this one, you know that Damian Hurst is truly taking the Michael.

Sometimes, it's banal. A jade Buddha, a mocked up sculpture of Durer's Praying Hands, the phallic Chinese Drummers, a busted Bacchus. Is Hurst saying that the Disney organisation repackage ancient myths for modern consumption?  (So what's new?) That's him with Mickey, by the way, best buddies by the look of it.

One particular piece is horribly real- of a life-size Minotaur raping an Athenian girl. No, I'm not showing the picture. The outrage on the girl's face, the pain and disgust... is that art, or pornography of the worst kind? Is it an attempt to portray sexual assault for what it really is...  or just bad art? I can't decide. Looking back over the whole show, you can see Hurst is trying to provoke reactions. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't. There's Pride... Horror ... Sorrow... Awe... Mystery... Pathos.. But curiously, we see nothing about Love.

The gallery's first opening to the general public (on two sites) came on Palm Sunday. Around Venice that morning, worshippers had processed through the city waving palm branches, celebrating a divinity and humanity that was more down-to-earth than the flash-bang mythology of the exhibition. Palm Sunday remembers a wild parade through an excited crowd wanting a Messiah. They sing their Hosannas. A Temple market is trashed. Protests are made, and broken bodies mended. Children sing in delight. In that story there are no monsters, the only swords are wielded by ignorant disciples, soldiers and Temple guards. The lurking horrors don't have teeth or scales- just clubs and whips. Does this story contain any more truth than the tales told by Damien, Donald or Mickey? Historically yes- but curiously, there seems to be more human compassion in it, too. 

Believable? Unbelievable? This Easter, as we see what's happening in the world, what do you and I want to believe in- and Why?

Postcard from Venice

Well, we were meant to get to Vivaldi's floating city on Friday, but things got a bit confusing with flight delays and alternative arrangements. Anyway, here are some highlights of our first day.

The exotic Venetian terrain.

 

Canals. Venice has loads.

The Rialto Bridge, where Shakespeare's Shylock got his gossip. 'What news on the Rialto?' It's details like that that made our Will such an epic playwright.

Flowers grow in abundance across Venice. These blossoms release an unbelievable scent.

The Venetians maintain the water levels of their canals by the traditional use of eco-friendly wind-powered technology.

St Mark's Square by evening light.

The Campanile, Venice's greatest landmark, rebuilt after collapsing in on itself through boredom.

The Doge's Palace. What actually is a Doge? We never saw one.

The Bridge of Sighs. Gondolas, as far as the eye can see.

But maybe things were a bit confused.

Kathy Germain- as seen in 'I, Daniel Blake’.

 

Food banks are small charities that give out emergency food to people in need. Kathy Germain works with a food bank in Benwell, Newcastle-upon-Tyne, that was started by her Anglican church in 2013- and featured in the recent Ken Loach film. I interviewed her in January 2017.

 Kathy, how did your work in the food bank begin?

If I were to go back to the beginning in 2006, when I first became a Christian, I asked myself, ‘Hold on, what should I be doing, as a Christian?’ You think, ‘Where’s God going to lead me in this new life?’ Because it is a new life, it’s a new beginning, a new start. 

Five years ago, I had mentioned to Tim Ferguson (our vicar at the time), that I saw something on the horizon that worried me. ‘The changes in benefits are not going to be right. I’m worried now, about how people are going to survive food-wise.’

And he said, ’Funny enough, I’ve been thinking exactly the same thing’. We’d been getting people turning up in church, just the odd ones asking for food. We’d have to go to the garage next door to get them a sandwich. So it slowly happened, and then the following year- Bang! People were getting their benefits cut because of new government rules, so they now needed food to live.

We started our food bank in a tiny office at the Venerable Bede church in the hall that was about 2 by 2 metres square. We stocked the food there, but then after 6 months, we realised that this was not going to work! We had to find new larger premises to keep this food, because we were inundated with the number of people who came. Some had jobs and were working and getting benefits, but still not earning enough to feed their families.

What did these people need?

If you’re on £72 pounds a week, which are your benefits for the week, it’s £25 a week, just to keep your gas and electricity going, it doesn’t leave you with very much. There’s nothing for bus fares, so these people can’t afford to go for their medicals (assessments) because they’re miles away.

As for the Disability criteria setup- we had a woman in a wheelchair, she could use one right hand, but she failed her medical.  She’s got cerebral palsy. She won her tribunal, but from the moment they stopped her payment, to the Mandatory Reconsideration (which takes up to five weeks), she had no money. You might have to put in for an SSC1 Form, which is to appeal against the Mandatory Reconsideration, so you’re coming up to 12, 13 weeks. What do these people live on?

If somebody is made redundant, they have to go and sign on for Universal Credit, but it takes up to 12 weeks before you can get it- if you can apply for it online. So what do you do? We’ve seen all of this. The money’s stopped, they’ve got no money and its winter, and it’s cold in the evenings. They’ve got no gas, so they’re not heated. They’ve got no electricity. They can’t have the telephone, which they need, to be called in for their Jobseekers allowance, for the Universal Credit. Everything is done on your phone, but what if you’ve got no money for your phone?

So when you run a foodbank, how does being a Christian make a difference to how you treat people and see what’s going on?

I’m not blind to the ways of the world, if you know what I mean? I’m not somebody who just falls for anybody’s blarney. But as a Christian, God shows me the ones who are really desperately in need. Also as a Christian, I’m able to feel if somebody has problems, who is really suffering. I think it is God’s gift to me, that makes me able to know when somebody’s depressive, to know when somebody’s got mental health problems. We still get people in food banks who no longer come for food, but they come because they have a need to talk to somebody who understands their need.

Sometimes they need other things, like prams and cots, or bedding and coats, or warm hats and scarves, which are not covered by food banks.

So what do you do about that?

I put my feelers out. I talk to everybody I know. ‘Have you got this, have you got that? Can you try and get me this, can you try and get me that? Ask your friends, have they got a spare one of these?’

And that’s what I do. I literally do that, so people can get the things they actually need. I’ve the gift of the gab as you can tell! God’s given me that gift to motivate people, I think I’ve always had it, but God just kind of went, ‘You’ve got that ability.’  And I can be strong. I feel for them, yes, but I won’t be walked over. They know that too. I’m not sympathetic, I’m empathetic. If you’re empathetic, you’re can understand how they’re feeling. If you’re sympathetic, you’re looking down on them in some way. That’s why people don’t like charity- it’s like they’re being blamed!

God says to me ‘Don’t judge.’ I don’t judge. I definitely do not judge. I say to parents, ‘I don’t care what you’ve done, if you come to me for help, then I’ll do my best to help you. Even if I condemn what you do, I’m not condemning the person- I’m condemning the action.’ That’s what you have to look at. You have to look at the person, not for what he’s done.

If someone says ‘I’ve been in prison for seven years and just come out’, I say ‘Oh right?’ They get a shock because I’m not bothered. I’ll ask, ‘What do you need now? What do you need me to do? I’ll do anything in my power to stop you going back into prison.’

I also became a Citizens Advice Bureau worker, so I could have the knowledge as well as the empathy to feel for them. Because I have that, when I walk around here, I’m either ‘Aunty Kathy’, or ‘Mum’, because they know I’ll stand by them.

If they try and take too much, I’ll jump down their throats as quick at that and say. ‘No, you’re being unfair because you took 7 of those items, and you’ve got three in your family and you took 7 of them, but what about the next one who walks through this door in the same situation as you?’ And they understand that- because that’s being fair. It doesn’t always happen, but you can understand it if they’ve been weeks and weeks without it. For instance, the last time it was sanitary products, and toothbrushes and toothpaste. You can understand if they grab as much as they can, because they don’t know when they’ll have the next chance of getting any.

So how did you end up being in the film ‘I, Daniel Blake?’

They asked me if I would do this part because I worked in the food bank. (They filmed four parts with me, but showed only three. If you blink, you’ll miss me!) I didn’t really think the film would take off like this. There were so many people saying ‘I saw you on the film, you kept that quiet!’, because I never told anybody!

One of the most important scenes took place in the food bank. Did you all know what was going to happen?

No, because we didn’t need to. This director’s type of acting is all about ‘What wouId you do, if that happened?’ So you react for real.  My friend Christine did exactly what she would have done, and I did exactly what I would have done.

I think it’s probably the most powerful scene in the film.

One thing I’ve noticed in the food bank over the past two years, is how so many of the mothers have lost an awful lot of weight- because mothers feed their children first. People just don’t see it, because they don’t expect it. They don’t expect there to be a need like this today, for mothers to go hungry.

How did you become a Christian?

I’d believed in God my entire life. I was two and a half when I first thought about it, and that was after my sister took me to church, and I heard the words in the service saying, ‘Do not fear, for the light of Christ comes into this world…’  and I remember a special candle being lit. Perhaps it was Christmas.

But I had a horrendous upbringing. I suffered all sorts of abuse. Once, at the age of three, I was thrown in the coalhouse and the door was locked and it was pitch-black. I was terrified. But then I remembered the church, and these words: ‘Look for the light’. So I did. Then I saw a chink of light under the door, and suddenly I wasn’t scared. The fear went away. I suddenly realised I wasn’t on my own, but Christ was there in the room, with me, and I was no longer afraid. There were two of us in there.

So I‘ve always believed in him, as somebody who was there. And then in 2002, Dave my husband passed away. By 2003 I didn’t know if I was coming or going. After my husband died, I hated God and I told him that. I was cursing him on the beach at Tynemouth, but I knew it wasn’t real. Because once you have him in your life, he can’t, he won’t let go. You might think he’s not there, but he still is. And a year later, I said… ‘I give up! I know you’re still there, and I still feel it. I give up!  I’ll come back and see where things go.’

So I walked around, and went into the church near where I lived, Venerable Bede, and inside I met a lady, her name was Jean Bradley. She said ‘Come and have a seat. What do you need?’ That was strange, such a strange way of putting it. I said I needed to be alone, but I just felt that was God asking me that question.

Jean said ‘Go and sit down there at the back, and no-one will bother you.’ No-one did. So I just sat there, crying and crying, asking God, ‘Why have you left me alone?’ And suddenly I felt so peaceful, but it was more than that. It was the kind of peace that passes all understanding. I felt so wonderful afterwards. I found God was actually in me, he was part of me. I mean, there’s no hiding from the fact now, is there? On that day, I was looking for more. I didn’t know what I was looking for, I didn’t understand it. But I believe somebody was meant to be there for me that day, when I went into that church. Now, I would rather lose every penny I’ve got and be homeless on the streets, than to be without God.

So – some years later, what made you want to become a Reader (Lay Minister)?

I knew it was going to be hard, because I’m dyslexic. But I felt God kept pushing me somewhere, and I didn’t know where. And I felt I needed to know more. So I went and put in the application for training as a Reader. I went, and it was wonderful! I learned so much about my faith, about people, and about me! I didn’t pass the University degree, but I got to where I needed to be.

And I feel now I’m in the right place, as a Christian, and that people know I’m a Christian. Some ask, ‘Can you do a prayer for me?’ Sometimes I feel their need, it’s all part and parcel of it, because I think it’s God working his way through things, not me. But I’m there if needed. I do many things. There’s the food bank, I do a mental health group, which is not part of the church but they do know I’m a Christian there. I also lead a toddler group, which teaches the parents about the Christian faith as well as the kids. I do the Citizens Advice Bureau too.

Sometimes, people want to talk. God gave me this heart to recognise things.  There was a lad that no-one would sit and talk to, because he was ‘all over the place’. (I’m used to that! )So, I sat with him and said ‘Let’s talk’, and he started rabbiting on for half an hour. I couldn’t hear a thing he said because he was just rabbiting. Then I said, ‘Let’s get to the crunch of it. What’s causing you to feel the way you’re feeling?’ He had severe mental problems, but we sat and talked for an hour.  And after that, he said, ‘Thank you very much. You made me feel human.’

And that’s the crux of it. That’s putting the humanity back. It’s making people feel ‘You’re human.’ That’s what God put into me, and that’s what he gives me to do. He said ‘These are my people. I love them. You love them too.’ And that’s the top and bottom of it. Then they come back and say to you, ‘I took that next step. Thank you very much.’ It’s a wonderful feeling.

It’s not about me. You don’t pick your life, but you try to make the most of it.  I don’t give any money, but I give myself. God gave me a gift, and I use that gift.

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An RE lesson based on selected parts of the interview will be available online later this year on the Barnabas in Schools website  (www.barnabasinschools.org.uk ).

Nature- Nice or Nasty?

 If there's one thing we can always learn from Hollywood, it's that no-one in a film learns very much from seeing other films in which something similar happens. Why haven't any of the characters in 'Alien:Covenant' seen Ridley Scott's original 'Alien'? If you're exploring new worlds, one of the most obvious thing to remember is DON'T GO NEAR THE THING THAT COULD HURT YOU.

Fairy-tales and Cathedrals

 We were sitting inside Barcelona's insanely beautiful Basilica of the Sagrada Familia. They’ve been building Gaudi’s cathedral for over 100 years, and it's nearly finished. (A tip: queues for tickets can be long- so if you’re planning a visit, best book ahead online in the UK.) Approaching from the outside on foot, one’s first natural reaction is… wow. It’s big, it’s high, and it’s covered in ornamentation. The roof resembles a series of stalagmites, or the conning towers of sunken ships, colonised by sea-creatures. There are so many curves, so many sloping surfaces. It looks alive.

Nature- Nice or Nasty? (Or... HR Giger vs. Antonin Gaudi- the Ultimate Smackdown)

Ridley Scott’s next ‘Alien’ film (Alien Covenant: Prometheus 2) is soon going to be hitting the big screen. Hopefully it’ll be better than ‘Prometheus’, whose many plot holes left us wondering whether the Alien had secretly been laying waste to Ridley’s intrepid little group of scriptwriters. The next instalment apparently features more explorers arriving on a deserted planet, who discover a crashed spaceship, some eggs and then… well, you can guess a lot of the rest. It’s probably best not watched on a full stomach.

I must go down to the sea today...

 

Around the world, wherever the climate is generally warm enough to allow for some sunbathing most of the year, massive boats like this can be found in yachting marinas. Have you ever wondered what it must cost the owner, to keep a boat like this?

Guildford Cathedral

Nostalgia's a wonderful thing. The past becomes rosier, the Summers were always warmer and the Mars Bars bigger. But there must be such a thing as reverse-nostalgia too, when the past becomes infinitely darker. Neuralgia? Will that do? So let's get down to it.

Guildford Cathedral is facing a financial crisis. They can't find the several millions of pounds needed to fund essential repairs for some badly-built asbestos-concrete-widgits in the roof. Now, I'm sure that for some people, this is a bad thing. Perhaps they've spent many years looking after a place that's become their spiritual home, that has hosted hundreds of civic events for the great and the good and the worthy. However, there's one slight problem hindering anyone trying to save Guildford Cathedral- it's a truly horrible building. Mindbogglingly awful, in fact.

Why I left the Boy Scouts

There's a been a lot of talk about abuse in churches. Are they bad places for young people? Well, here's a story that may surprise you. It happened to me. Perhaps it happened to you.

Stories from the Creed (2) Creator

‘Nearly there’, said the biophysicist.

‘Where?’ asked the visitor.

‘At the place where it all started. Life. See this?’ Opening a fridge door, he held up a sealed petri dish with a grey smear of something lying in the middle. The visitor removed his spectacles for a closer look, squinting as the biophysicist rattled off his prepared commentary. ‘These are the amino acids that would have existed here on this planet around 20 billion years ago. We think some global event probably did it, maybe the passing of a comet. Either the heat, the impact, the radiation, or a coming together of all three, caused a reaction that created completely new chains of molecules- and ended up as the thing we call DNA.’ Satisfied, the biophysicist replaced the petri dish in the fridge, next to hundreds of others, and shut the door.

Breakfast

Scene: a breakfast room in a PremierLodge Travelinn, somewhere near Manchester.

Time: 8.37 am.

Waitress: Is everything all right, sir?

Customer: Well since you ask, it's all frankly, rather disturbing. This sausage obviously came from the bargain end of the range, where the nearest it came to being real meat was to be shown a photo of a smiling pig. This teabag, whilst being labelled as a 'Twinings Everyday Rich and Full Bodied', was obviously made from the sweepings off the floor that Twinings found left over in the warehouse after everything else had been sorted, packed and sent off to customers who actually like tea. Then we come to this allegedly fresh, but rather sinister glass of orange juice. Is it really meant to be glowing in the dark?

Jill Saward- one last reflection

Grief works its way out in different ways. I do much of my thinking by talking with friends, then writing it out in a journal. It’s not exactly therapy (so don’t try sending me the bill after reading this) but it does help clarify things. The events and memories of the last few days will take time to process, to try and understand exactly what was going on from the time Jill suddenly fell sick- and work out what, if anything, I’ve learned from it all.

Thoughts from Jill Saward's funeral- yesterday

Parasites. Scavengers.

It's probably unfair to use those words to describe some press photographers. Mosquitoes, vampire bats, vultures, jackals and hyenas all play a necessary part in the world's eco-systems, and they don't get to choose what they do. David Attenborough is quite taken with some of them. But unlike human beings, these simpler creatures lack the capacity for moral choices. They don't know the difference between Right and Wrong, or try to puzzle out the grey areas in-between.

But when a crowd of mourners emerges from Lichfield Cathedral to face the multiple whirring of clicking cameras, you can wonder where some press photographers might have buried their consciences, to be able do this kind of thing for a living. The congregation were here at the funeral to say goodbye to a valued friend, a relative, a sister, an aunt, a resolute campaigner against sexual violence- so why were the press taking close-up pictures of individual with zoom lenses? By all means, it made sense to take pictures of the coffin, the undertakers, and the hearse driving away. But why intrude on personal tears and deep distress?

The photographers' answers would probably be- 'Because we can. Because images like these are interesting for our viewers and readers around the world- and of course, because we're only doing our job.' People like this might even witter on about 'the public's right to know', but I'm not sure why this mythical public needed to see the individual grief of family and friends. During the 2011 Levenson enquiry into press freedom, the reporter Paul McMullan memorably said,

“Privacy is the space bad people need to do bad things in. Privacy is for paedos; fundamentally nobody else needs it.” (Huffington Post, 30/11/11)

Was he being cynical, arrogant- or just desperately sad, without realising it? Privacy is the space we each make our own. Intruding on a person's private grief and recording it for a profit, is a theft of personal space.

Some interviews and pictures regarding Jill Saward's funeral had been prearranged and agreed with those leading the service. That's fair enough- Jill had a public persona, she made an obvious difference to many peoples' lives, so her funeral was obviously of national significance. Some of those leading the service gave their permission to be interviewed, and so the reporters asked the questions, recorded the words and took the pictures. But before the service, I saw this person walking around, taking photos of chairs.

What was he up to? Afterwards, I realised he was recording the names of family members who had been given reserved seats at the front, because the press wanted to know the names of as many people as possible who were significant to the story. Get the names, make it personal, then get the pictures... That's how it works.

Now, to be fair to them for a moment- the press reports we saw after the funeral yesterday were a lot more factually accurate, than those printed after the Ealing Vicarage attack in 1986 (which Jill referred to, as the 'second violation'). Perhaps that's because fact-checking is much easier these days, when records can be instantly accessed, updated and shared online. (In 1986, vast files of clippings were maintained by newspaper offices. Keeping them up-to-date was a tedious, thankless task, and judging from the number of times they repeated the same inaccuracies despite requests for corrections, it was often done badly.) Also, there's now a lot more information readily available online, if the press want to start nosing around social media.

But yesterday, a large number of close-ups were posted online immediately after the service. At one point, I saw a scrum of photographers huddled together, trying to identify an image they'd taken of someone talking with Jill's husband. Who was she? Curious, I wandered over... and the reporters instantly turned and tried to interview me. 'No thanks', I replied. 'We had enough of that 30 years ago.' Thankfully, I didn't say more.

But that's how these people work (and they are mostly men, by the way.) Get the story, put it together and send it off, then you've done your job making money out of other peoples' lives. Our story and Jill Saward's story, were just one more job to get covered and dispatched, before moving on to the next gig. In a bizarre way, we suddenly knew what it must feel like to be a member of the British Royal Family every day.

So since they didn't ask our permission to take these kinds of photos, I thought I'd give you a photo of the press. I'm sure it's what they would have wanted. After all, they were obviously having a great day out.