Losing my religion

…in the REM way, of losing my temper. I tried not to lose it, but a silly, evangelising “Christian” old woman really got under my skin.

In my opinion; and I am aware that other people think differently; relgion is a personal thing. One’s own religion is just that, one’s own. So I have little time for evangelism and I am losing my patience as well. I was in Cardiff with my daughter, on a hot day, and having put in a lot of walking, I wanted to sit on a bench in the shade and rest for a few minutes. As you do.

I saw an old lady handing out leaflets, or trying to hand them out. I thought that she was probably handing out menus as she was working the street in front of a takeaway noodle shop. But then she spotted me and started walking towards me. I remember that I probably smiled, tentatively as I believe in being polite whenever possible. As she handed one of her leaflets to me, I realised that it was a religious tract. I said no thank you, politely, but this woman would just not take no for an answer. She said “don’t you believe in Jesus?” in such a patronising, pitying tone. I was getting annoyed. After all, I was hot and tired and not up for a religious discussion. Not on the street. Otherwise I probably would not have told her that I am a Pagan. Then the shocked, horrified and even more pitying expression on her face really annoyed me. She said something like “oh no, oh that’s awful”.

Luckily for my blood pressure, a old man, who had been sitting behind me, got up and engaged her in conversation about the man who was polluting the air with his out-of-tune and unwanted caterwauling about Jesus, further down the street. Incidentally, he was trying to compete against a man who was singing a song from “Phantom of the Opera” for charity. It’s interesting that this so-called Christian man was trying to impede the efforts of a man who was just trying to raise money for a worthy cause. But anyway, the old man distracted the woman long enough for me to get up and walk away.

Muslims don’t do it; Sikhs don’t do it; Buddhists, Hindus and Pagans don’t do it. So what makes some Christians arrogant enough to think that accosting people on hot days and being patronising and irritating is acceptable? If they’re trying to convert people then they’re going about it the wrong way. And now my opinion of some Christians is reinforced. I am more than glad, thank the Goddess, that I am a Pagan!

Shetland’s Red Bones

It’s not uncommon to read the book after watching a TV series or movie. And it’s not uncommon to find that the book in infinitely better than the said TV series or movie. But Ann Cleeves’ “Red Bones” is so much better than the TV version, “Shetland”, as to be quite ridiculous.

To begin with, her description of the central character, Detective Jimmy Perez. An odd sort of name for a Scot, especially one living in Shetland, you would think. ms Cleeves writes “Perez was what the locals a black Shetlander; his ancestor had been washed up from a sunken Spanish Armada ship. He’d inherited the name, the dark hair and Mediterranean skin.” Now go and look at a picture of Douglas Henshall, who played Perez at the Internet Movie Database. Go on, I can wait.

Back? See what I mean? I know, it doesn’t really matter. Douglas Henshall is great in anything he does. I love that craggy, worn to a frazzle look. (But no woman would be allowed to look like that and still act. Even Brenda Blethyn as Ann Cleeve’s other detective, Vera, was allowed to be frumpy but relatively unlined, compared to Mr. Henshall.) But it was just incongruous to have such a pale, Scottish looking man with the surname Perez and still be a native of Shetland!

Mind you, that wasn’t the only oddity. In the novel, the two warring families are the Wilsons and the Coulsons. But in Shetland, they were the Haldanes and Wilsons. Cassie, Jimmy’s stepdaughter, is a baby and her mother is still alive, in the novel. While in the series she’s a teenager and her mother is dead. Again, I know it probably doesn’t matter as the TV plot had to pared down to fit. But arghhh!

It’s such a shame that the TV version was so, not great. It’s second episode clashed with Broadchurch, which is so much better. I liked Shetland, really. I quite fell in love with the islands. They’ve always been so for me. I live in a semi-rural area of Wales and it’s just not rural enough or isolated enough for me. I could see myself living in a croft, with no neighbours and just a few black rock hens for company. (I’m not so much a mad cat lady as a mad hen lady!) The two-part series was interesting enough to make me want to read the book. But oh how disappointing when I figured out the reason for the murder in the first episode. I wear glasses and am both short-sighted and near-sighted with astigmatism, but I could see the valuable clue before Perez did.

Ah well, I enjoyed it despite the bad adaption. And I wouldn’t mind seeing more of DI Perez on the small screen. Though that may be a tad difficult as “they” went with adapting the third book in the series instead of the first. So I’d guess that it’s going to stay as a one-off. And Broadchurch is still on, for another five weeks!

Right, I’m back.

My site was hacked, but very gently. Thanks guys. I realise I shouldn’t have neglected my site. A neglected site gets hacked. So, I’m back and will be blogging again.

Rebel without a plot

Nanowrimo Rebel So, I’m a rebel. A rebel without a plot! Nanowrimo officially starts on november 1. It’s the same date every year; can’t be mistaken. But I am starting….well, I’ve started today. So far I’ve written 630 words of the first chapter of “The Iron Butterfly”. And you know what? I’m proud to be a rebel!

There is a reason behind my rebellion. Last year, Nanowrimo began on the day my Mother died. I got on with my novel, starting a week late. But it was very difficult, especially as the theme of my novel was motherhood. How I got through it, only my counsellor and I know. I was full up with anger, grief and bewilderment. How could my Mother just die? I don’t want to get into that here though. I probably don’t need to say it but I will, this year’s official start is going to be a tad tricky too as it will be the first anniversary of Mum’s death. Also, P and I are going to Barcelona one week in november. So I decided to be gentle to myself and allow myself to start early, to make up for the week that I will not be writing.

And that is why I am a Nanowrimo rebel. I was very glad to see that rebellion is sanctioned at the Nano site, with a forum devoted to us. I remember one year I stated my intention to go on with something I had already started, and wished I hadn’t as I was told that I was a cheater, a rotten cheater and I was probably in the habit of snatching sweets away from little children and running away laughing as well. It was so nasty that I avoided nano for a couple of years. This year, I see that accusations of cheating are frowned on.

Rebel without a plot? Hah, I’ve started writing with nothing more than a vague idea and a first sentence. To my delight, the first scene has just flown along. I doubt it will always be this easy, but perhaps this will be fun this year and not so much a grim, do or die, neck or nothing, gritted teeth race to the end of the month.

blog move imminent!

I’m changing the name that I’m known by on the ‘net. After the death of my mother last november I decided to reclaim my real name, Eunice. The domain seren.nu is due to be renewed in a couple of weeks, but I won’t be doing that. Instead, I’ve bought the domain indelible.nu and I’ll be switching the domain I use for my blog. Fingers crossed that it works! If it doesn, the next time I post will be from the new domain.

I Love Your Blog! Swap-Bot Swap

As part of this swap, I am to comment on my partners’ blogs.
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Doing a bit of catching up

Okay, I promised I’d tell about the Women’s Institute group I joined. Well, thankfully I seem to have joined the rebel group! There are only around 16 members, unlike some of the other groups that have upwards of 50. They are more formal, singing “Jerusalem” at the beginning of the meetings and much more strictly organised. Whereas our group (yes, I can say “our” now!) is so small that it was decided years ago that everyone would be the committee. There are the usual officers, like chairwoman, secretary, treasurer, minutes secretary and records keeper. But the rest of us all have a say in what goes on.
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eeeek!

I’ve got folks visiting from swap-bot and I haven’t tidied the place up yet! If you’re here from swap-bot, welcome! And if you’re not, but you’re here anyway, welcome to you too!

I have taken leave of my senses obviously, as I’ve signed up to nanowrimo. I tried it a couple of times a long time ago, but didn’t get anywhere, so I missed the last two years. But with me now doing a creative writing course, I thought, oh what the heck! Nothing ventured and all that. I have a blog for it, of course, at HerWords. It’s a blogspot blog with my own domain. I have a fair few blogs in fact: around four at the last count. I can’t resist them!

I will try to write more tomorrow, but right now I must get on with things! So, nos da for now!

The W.I.

I’m about to leave the house in a few minutes to go to a meeting of the Women’s Institute! I decided to join up. Well, I guess that at 49 I’m about old enough to join! L reckons it will be like the Girl Guides for older ladies, cheeky brat! But oooh, I wish there was a jam-making badge, or one for backing cakes. When I come back I will be able to tell you if they really do sing “Jerusalem”! Nos da!

Show Of Hands

No, I’m not asking anyone to wave their hands around in the air. It’s the name of a band I’ve just “discovered”. I was in Andy’s Records in Aber today, looking for an album by The Imagined Village. (Yes, I’m old enough to still call them albums.) He didn’t have anything in, but said he’d order a copy of “Empire and Love” for me. And in one of the reasons why I love independent record shops; he asked if I’d heard of Show of Hands. He’d heard them just a couple of nights ago in Portmerion. I hadn’t, so he put on their cd for me to listen to. I loved it! So I bought their best of album, “The Best of Show of Hands”. It’s two cds in a nice sturdy cover, with a proper lyrics booklet. I’m currently listening to the second cd and absolutely loving it. If you like folk with a bit of a bite: none of that, finger in one ear, hey-nonny-no silliness; you’d love them too.

I got soaked today, wandering around in town in the pouring rain. I took the hood off my jacket a while ago and now I can’t find it. *facepalm* Good one! I was in Kraxis, buying a Portmerion jumbo tea cup and saucer, and the nice lady who runs the shop commented that the rain wasn’t as bad as yesterday. And it wasn’t, then, just stealth drizzle as I call it. As soon as I started to leave the shop, the angels decided to throw their washing water away. Or their bathwater, or something like that. I only walked a few yards up the road to the Old College and I had to walk hunched over because of the wind. It was coming straight off the sea, at the end of Pier Street.

And why was I going to Old College? Why, to sign up for a beginner’s drawing evening class, which beings next month. I’ve never done anything like that before; my days of art at school were not distinguished. But as I’ll be starting a creative writing course with the OU, I thought I’d try to use the other side of my brain as well. So, for eight weeks at the Arts Centre, I’ll be learning to draw! Who knows, if any of my efforts are not too hideous, I may even let you see them!

Well, all for now. Sorry for staying away for so long. I’m not a natural blogger; I don’t even like keeping a paper journal. But I’m back again. Nos da!