This is the official logo for the 15th Unicycling World Championships and Convention in New Zealand in 2010 (the spiky bit is a fern - the national symbol of NZ). It was also my first dabble in Illustrator, and it won me a free place at the convention. Woo!
Yesterday I went to Hay-on-Wye. It is a place of many, many books. And mud. And Jimmy Carter. And Guardian Ponchos. And the ‘honesty bookshop’ (above). And rain. And JesusDub. And many other things.
We had a nice time. It was nice.
The Spanish tourism board was also there advertising with wet deckchairs…
On the return train journey I saw a nun. She was wearing a pale grey habit with a dark red girdle. And she was knitting while waiting for the train.
We got on the same train, and she smiled at me as I stood with my unicycle.
Then we changed in Shrewsbury and I saw her again. She smiled at me again.
How nice.
Thought for the day:
Even in a dark tunnel of fear, doubt and self-loathing; where the walls are damp and the shifting ground is uneven and hard; when the light at the end seems to be only a reflection in the darkened windows of your soul and the scratching noises all around make your skin crawl… it may still be that shouting “ping” can make quite a funny echo.
Walnut halves look a bit like little dried brains, or is that just me?
I have just made a banana cake with them in (chopped) though, so I hope that they don’t think too much.
The joy of english is that ‘read’ and ‘read’ mean both the present-continuous and past tense, and you can’t tell without either context or pronunciation. I meant the past-tense version, like the colour, not the riverside plant. I don’t often get a paper at the weekend, and don’t make a habit of reading the Women section (although, thinking about it, I secretly like reading ‘girl’ books or whatever, as a non-girl can often learn more about them by seeing what they want to say when it’s not supposed to be for guys than what makes it as far as the ‘advice about females’ in general or men-targeted stuff - it feels like a kind of back-stage thing), but there were Circumstances. Yes, they deserve that capital letter.
It involved a conspiring combination of my phone’s clock, Which (and indeed What?) Digital Camera magazine, McCoy’s crisps, Arriva Trains Wales, darts, dominoes, Jeremy Clarkson, John Humphries, gentle but persistent rain and a pint of Greene King in The Green Dragon pub.
So, for reasons you really shouldn’t expect me to expand upon, I was reading the glossy Women section which falls out of the Observer Sunday newspaper. Most of it didn’t interest me that much, but I did read an interesting article:
Yes, says a group of hip, savvy and successful Christians. Elizabeth Day meets today’s new radical twentysomethings
You don’t get the whole effect with the online version, as it doesn’t have the several photos of the girls being interviewed - very glamorous etc., and much like any other professional models on the other pages. Apart from the rather petty (given the context) comment I could make on how perhaps Christians shouldn’t revel in being able to glam-up and parade as ostentatiously as anyone else, I was impressed at how sympathetic and admiring the article was.
The Observer (and/or Guardian on weekdays), as a left of centre liberal publication (which is why I choose to read them), isn’t renound for giving religious types an easy ride. Often quite rightly. But what this article is at pains to convey is that these girls (is it patronising to use that word for unmarried females over 25? Maybe.) aren’t weird, judgemental or pushy. There’s no talk of doctrine or damnation throughout. The Silver Ring Thing is given pretty short shrift. They’re just worth comment because they seem different, for having found satisfaction in doing things with some restraint required… not for being needlessly un-cool or for annoying people.
It’s the Fifth of December, it’s dark and I am just leaving my Wednesday Welsh lesson in the Merched Y Wawr (Women’s Institute) building.
Plastic garden chair
Plastic garden chair
Plastic garden chair
Something large and round shrouded in a green tarpaulin
A portable charcoal barbecue.
Being carried through the evening streets by five apparently sane and sober individuals. Need I point out that the students (OK, I admit I’m one too) are still in Aberystwyth? Bless them.
