Books, books, books!

Over the last few days I have been lost in a couple of books. One is very new and the other very old.

The first is Fire and Steam by Christian Wolmar. It tells the story of the railways from the very beginning at the turn of the 19th century up to the present day. Well, the 14 November 2007 when I stood in St Pancras Station and watched the events which were celebrating its opening day. You can read a Times review here. I think it's great. A bit plodding at times, but I keep turning the pages.

The second is Bygone Bentham by Joseph Carr. It is a composition of several articles written between 1871 and 1896 on his memories of the village of Bentham. He was the Ingleton correspondent for the Lancaster Guardian for over 40 years in the 19th century and he opened up the Waterfalls Walk as well. These memoirs cost me a lot of money a few years ago but this Christmas I have found them to be worth every penny.

O and by the way my depression has been pretty bad over Christmas. I think it's the same for most of us who suffer in this way.

Winning Words

I got a book for a Christmas present on Tuesday. Nothing strange about that, I suppose. But I've read it already.

It came from my friends in Australia and is called Winning Words by Margaret Court the tennis champion. She is now a champion for Christ and a writer and speaker. In the book she talks about the power of words, especially the Word of God. It was an eye-opener to me.

This is what her website says about it:

Winning Words
In Winning Words Margaret shares the story of her battle with illness, exhaustion and depression. She discovered that God's word, embraced in faith, releases amasing power for healing and restoration. This has led her to both personal wholeness and a life of helping others. In an easy to read style Margaret shares her discovery.

I spent all yesterday morning reading it. And started putting it into practice. I even sent her an email asking her to pray for me as I did so. I'd like you to do the same. Because I am fed up with this depression and want to win over it.

Too much information!

Yesterday at 4.00 a.m. I got up and started putting information on cards. This was the names and any knowledge I had of those who rebuilt St. Mary's Ingleton between 1885 & 1887. This was in preparation for my next Brook House Booklet, Voices of Old Ingleton (VOI for short).

Two of them share the same initials - RB. I put the full name of the first one into Google and it came up with just one find. But what a find! It took me to a website about the family history of a couple, one of whose ancestors was my man. Before I knew it I was overwhelmed with information about him and his offspring. Not only did he have a card but his wife and three children each had one as well.

Then I put the other RB in and found out that he had been a writer. He had published a book, the nearest copy of which was at Settle Library and a series of articles in the Craven Herald in 1997. But I would only be able to see them at Skipton. Not much hope of that today I thought.

But this is what happened. I spent the second part of the morning ensconced in the vestry at Settle St John's Methodist Church examining the deeds of our chapel with the Superintendent Minister David Briggs. Then I drove home had some lunch and started writing up the notes.

Not long into this I had to break off to take Nathan to catch a bus in Ingleton. Well, we missed it and he was going to Settle to meet his mother for Christmas shopping. So after a heated discussion about whose fault it was I decided to drive him there. On the way I thought and prayed about how I could use this setback. I decided I would stay in Settle.

I then had the chance to go into the library. By the grace of God I had details of the second RB's book in my pocket so I found it and scanned it for details in about ten minutes. I then joined Nathan and Audrey for the shopping trip. It was to Skipton.

So while they shopped I visited Craven Museum and then went over to the Library and read a couple of the articles in the series the second RB had written for the Craven Herald. Can you believe it or what?

Not only that but when I got home I finished off writing up the morning's notes and got my first internet book order which came from someone who reads this blog and eats doughnuts.

But through it all I felt miserable. Can you credit it? All that was going on but my poor family still had to put up with my misery and moping. This depression feels like a thorn in the flesh. But God said to Paul "My strength is made perfect in weakness." May I prove that too.

Carol Services

Two great Carol Services held at St. Mary's Ingleton on Sunday.

The first was more traditional, the second more "in your face" using drama and film.

Both were well attended by people who don't go to church. Do pray for them to remember what they heard and saw and sang, and for the Holy Spirit to work on it.

It's been a week!

So sorry it's been a week since I blogged. I do appologise.

I have had some successes this week. The main one is that I have managed to make sense of Facebook.

I got a real headache from trying to use it last month and I left a message for Mike Bossingham saying I found it like a missionary must find an alien culture.

He left me a message which said it was possible to assimilate an alien culture.

Well I had a go and managed to find friends, make contacts, reach people I have wanted to find for ages and generally had a good time.

Once again it's Mike Bossingham to the rescue. How does he do it? By the grace of God, I suppose.

IDC goes on sale

Yesterday I started trading. I had produced the IDC Booklet to go along with the Dickensian theme of the Late Night Shopping in Ingleton.

I stood on The Sqaure next to HL Gallery, otherwise known as the Pye family. They were giving away mulled wine for a donation, and I latched onto their customers. I told them they would be interested in my book, that I had written about five fascinating characters who had lived in the village in Dickensian times and that I would even sign the booklet for them so that when I became famous they could sell it for a lot more than it was worth.

It was fun developing a sales patter. I said the same thing over and over again, with variations according to who I was talking to. But each signing was unique. I loved it.

Funny thing though, during the day I was deeply disturbed mentally because of the strain of selling the books. I thought I would find it much more difficult to sell them than to research, write and produce them. But as it turned out that the sales pitch was as much fun as the rest of the writing experience.

The details of my best buyers are thus:

1. Members of IMC
2. Visitors to Ingleton for the weekend

I am happy to report that I sold 25 copies of Ingleton's Dickensian Characters and gave two out on credit to people I know very well and trust implicitly.

This morning my head ached profously when I got up but it was buzzing with ideas of how to sell the remaining number of copies.

Watch this space.

To market, to market

Today I start trading.

The Ingleton's Dickensian Characters booklets are all ready to sell at £2.00 a piece.

Today I have to get a table, a money float and good weather to sell the goods at the Ingleton Late Night Shopping. I'll let you know how I get on.

Booklets and ISBNs

I took delivery of 100 Ingleton's Dickensian Characters booklets yesterday. They look really professional. I am proud to own them. Now I have to sell them, and be even prouder.

I also got an email detailing how to buy ISBN numbers. I'm not sure if my Brook House Booklets qualify. But I'm going to have a go anyway.

They ask you how many publications you expect to put out in two or three years. At first I thought about ten. But I have lots of ideas.

I mean I went to the library yesterday and got hold of not one, but two copies of the book Ingleton Bygone and Present. This has loads of ideas within it.

The daft thing is the 100 ISBN numbers cost a lot less each than ten do. But I don't want to stretch myself too thin. We'll see.

IDC goes to the printers

Over the last couple of weeks I have been putting together my first Brook House Booklet. It's called Ingleton's Dickensian Characters (IDC for short).

It has been a distinct learning curve. When I first went to see Andrew, the printer in Bentham, I didn't even know how to put an A5 (half A4) size booklet onto Publisher. He showed me and I got started.

Now the Master Copy is ready. This is a day earlier than I originally put into my business plan.

YES! I have a business plan! It's just a sheet of paper with deadlines to work to, but it is a great help.

The unit cost is £1.00 per copy from the printer and I am selling them at £2.00 each. I have ordered 100 copies so I hope they will sell well in a week's time at the Late Night Shopping Evening in Ingleton.

Now I'll have to get marketing.

I got Pix

I took delivery of a camera yesterday.

It is this one:

It's about as big as its picture which was a surprise.

Nevertheless I have taken some pix with it of the inner sanctum of Brook House.

Now I am off to get pictures for my first Brook House Publishing publication Ingleton's Dickensian Characters.

O Pete did you forget?

I have just got back from leading the Monday AM Prayer Meeting at IMC. I have done it for six months now but today I forgot.

I was so intensely concentrating on a little Bible Study I was doing on work that I forgot to go and lead the prayer meeting.

The old enemy of our souls has fooled us into thinking that these two vital ingredients of Christian life (prayer and Bible Study) are the most boring and tedious pastimes on God's earth. So we think they should be avoided at all costs. And that is just what he wants. Because if disciples aren't reading and studying the Bible or joining in prayer together then they are like a car which is not firing on all cylinders. It works but it doesn't work well.

So what have I learned from this morning's mistake? Set an alarm for the Monday AM Prayer meeting and don't neglect it. I do so at my peril.

WELCOME to the new look site

Well, I warned you.

Here is a new look site for you.

I hope you enjoy it as much as the old version.

The idea's the same. It's just the look that's different.

Like preaching the Gospel in a 21 st century context really.

Warning: Things are going to change round here

I have decided that I am going to change the look of this blog.

It needs a makeover. But I wanted to warn you before I did it.

One of the things I hate about the internet world is unplanned changes. So I am warning you:

Next time things will be different.

And another doctor said..

I had to go and see a doctor about my Incapacity Benefit this morning.

He asked some strange questions which didn't seem to have anything to do with depression.

For instance, he enquired if I made the tea and helped around the house. What's that got to do with anything?

Another seemingly unrelated question was what I like to watch on TV. Why did he ask these things?

Well, I'll see if I gave the right answers in a few weeks time.

More now

Well here I am back at home after my race round Britain.

It was fun and I learned a lot.

The highlights:

Sitting in a small group setting in the Chapel at Harpenden Oval listening to people from all over England and many different denominations. They said they were all seeing the same thing: Growth through small groups. God is on the move.

Martin Robinson from Together in Mission was in the group and said something along these lines: When the church was in decline, you knew what was going on. Now so much is happening you can't keep up with it.

That got me thinking. There should be some means by which the Christian people of this country become aware of what God is doing.

The second highlight was sitting amongst 2500 men in Bradford listening to Paul Scanlon talk about his relationship with his dad. It was very moving. The theme of the conference was I am not my father.

Fascinating insights on both occasions.

What is God saying to me?

Just popped in

Hi there.

I just popped in to say that I'm still around although I haven't blogged for a while.

That's because I have been around the country:

1. Tuesday Liverpool to see Aunty Mary
2. Wednesday London to see new St Pancras Station and Surrey to visit my sister Sheila
3. Thursday Harpenden Hertfordshire to attend a discussion on Cell Groups in Villages
4. Yesterday Central London to sign up as a British Library reader
5. Yesterday as well Bradford to study the history of its architecture
6. Yesterday Bradford again for the XCEL Men's Conference at Abundant Life Church

Now I'm off to Bradford again for the second part of XCEL.

More later.

The Frost has melted away

The Christian world got a shock yesterday. Well-loved UK Methodist evangelist Rob Frost had passed into glory.

He was in late 50s and had done more in his life than three ordinary people do in theirs. As well as preaching, writing and travelling (he seemed to be everywhere at once) Rob's greatest contribution to Methodism was Easter People. This was a Christian holiday break for Methodist Evangelical Christians.

The last one took place in Blackpool just after Easter. I attended it for a day in what soon turned out to be the tail-end of my work for the Methodist Church.

We will surely miss him. But for him to live was Christ and to die is gain.

Remember his family, especially his Dad, Ronald. How must it feel to see your son follow you into the ministry, take off like a rocket, achieve so much and then pass into the presence of Jesus before you do? God bless him.

Staying on-line

Sorry I haven't been around for a while but I'm having trouble with the phone line and it's difficult to stay on-line. Even the electricity went off a couple of nights ago. All the Brook House infrastructure was breaking down. Anyway, I'm back now.


The trip to Chesterfield for the football was a success. Morecambe scored in the first and the last minute while the Spireites (named after this edifice) scored twice in the middle. Very exciting.

That crooked spire at Chesterfield freaks me out. I've been there twice this year. Each time I think the thing's going to fall on me. It looks just ready to plunge to earth. But since it hasn't done so yet and has been there since the middle ages, I may be a bit too concerned. I'm like Chicken Little who thought the sky was falling.

Mind you, I've been to quite a few churches in this and other countries which have fallen down in bad weather. So what makes the crooked spire seem so delicate and yet remain so strong?

Answers welcome.

How's the writing business going? Well, I'm preparing some booklets called Ingleton's Dickensian Characters to sell at the Late Night Shopping in Ingleton on 7 December. I had put it in my diary to do this and I am actually doing it. When I'm working on them and saving them on the PC I call them IDC for short. This saves time.

The writing comes from articles I wrote for the Craven Herald five years ago. I need to edit these, add more information if I can and then put them into a publishing format.

I then need to get into marketing gear and sell as many as I can on the night.

Pricing them is a bit of headache. The price has to be just right. Too little and the customer will scorn the product, too much and he will think it overpriced. What to do, eh?

Travelholic?

Can you become a travelholic? I may be becoming one.

On Wednesday I went to Skipton on the train to study the Ingleton censi there. On Thursday it was York, again by train, for business start-up training (ha ha!). Yesterday I went to Liverpool to visit my aunty in Broad Green Hospital. She is there long-term and her affairs are in a mess. It was the travel I enjoyed the most. It makes me feel good.

I especially enjoyed travelling from Broad Green to Liverpool City Centre on a No. 11 Bus. Looking outside at the European City of Culture for 2008 made me realise how much it needs improving. Listening inside to the conversations my fellow passengers were having with the driver and each other was fascinating. One three-generation family complained bitterly about their treatment by another driver, and then a lad got on and was talking to his mum on his mobile phone and talking to the driver and relaying things to his mum. What fun it was observing all this.

As I got off the bus I told the driver how much I had enjoyed it. She said that everyday is different in her job. I'll bet it is. She still took some persuading about the Plusbus ticket when I got on though. But it was worth it.

Today I'm off to Chesterfield with my son Nathan to see Morecambe play there. This time I'm going by car.

Time Management

One of the reasons I had to quit my job with the Methodist Church was because of my problems with time management. I just wanted to wander about and see where the Lord led me, which is not very professional but it is spiritual. And it works.

Yesterday I was in York for a Businesslink workshop on setting up in business. The course was OK but it was the rest of the day I enjoyed more.

I visited the Rock church which is right next door to where we met. It is an unconventional Pentecostal Church based at the old Central Methodist. What a place! Hundreds of pews, a huge balcony, lots of side rooms all based in a square building that looks like a fortress.

I visited an exhibition about the monks who built the Priory which was again very close to where we met. Reading about medieval York was fascinating.

As I walked along a very narrow alleyway, or ginnel as the Yorkshire folk call them, between back-to-back houses I gave thanks for where I live. My dwelling is a three storey six-bedroom house with lots of ground right out in the country. And we were given it. Is God generous or what? That's one of the reasons I named my new business after it.

Another thing happened. I wandered into an independent bookshop hard by the Minster. Would you believe it, the assistant was unpacking books about Ruskin. She hadn't even taken the wrapper off the one I bought. Amazing.

When I got home Biddles the printers had sent me a booklet for self-publishers explaining how to get your books into the market. What a day.

Learning the trade

Another thing happened yesterday.

My good friend Mike Bossingham suggested using Biddles printing firm for producing my books. I sent them an email and by the end of the day I had an email from one of their people asking for detailed information about the sort of printing I wanted. I'd better get learning.

This is what they wanted to know:

What size are the booklets?
How many pages are in them?
What sort of binding are you looking for i.e. saddle stitched (stapled)or slotted?
What quantities are you looking to produce?
Do they just have black text throughout?

The thought struck me: I'd better learn this trade quickly.

GP Taylor "autobiography" review

I was in Skipton yesterday studying the 1841/51/61 census returns for Ingleton. They made fascinating reading. To see the characters I am writing about in the George Hope novel right there on the page is stimulating. Well, it's not the page but the microfiche screen. But the feelings the same.

During the journey there and at lunchtime I finished off the GP Taylor "autobiography" I picked up on Wednesday last week. I wrote this review and sent it to Zondervan publishers:

I bought this hardback book called GP Taylor Sin, Salvation and Shadowmancer in
the Wesley Owen bookshop in Liverpool City Centre, England. It was marked at £8
off the cover price of £12.99. The amount I paid for the book - £4.99 - was a
price at which it would be much more likely to sell.
At first I was puzzled by the fact that a best selling English author had to tell his story through freelance American writer Bob Smietana. But as the pages turned I realised that this was written for the American market. Explanations were given which were needless for the English reader and some of the expressions were very American.
It also became clear that GP Taylor is a storyteller rather than a writer, but
what a story he tells!
You couldn't have made it up. Growing up in a working class neighbourhood in the North of England, plugging records for Virgin, a social worker, a policeman, a vicar and now a writer. All the time the man's voice was speaking and his personality was shining through. It was as gripping as his books are supposed to be, although I've never read one. Although after this I suppose I shall have to.
Verdict: A great read but not worth £12.99.

Where am I now?

It's now ten days since I set up in business as a writer and publisher. I am a sole trader with the business name of Brook House Enterprises. How far have I got?

Well, there are ideas and ideas and ideas and some of them are taking shape.
The Brook House booklets on local history are really taking shape. I have set myself two deadlines:
1) Friday 7 December - launch a five-part series based on the articles I did for the Craven Herald in 2002 titled Ingleton's Dickensian Characters.
This will co-incide with late night shopping night in Ingleton which usually has a Dickensian theme.

2) Saturday 26 January - launch a five-part series called Voices of Old Ingleton at St. Mary's CofE.
This will also be a whole weekend given over to Old Ingleton History as part of Hope 2008.

The articles for newspapers and magazines are still at the ideas stage. I have a Wordpad document in which I put down all my ideas. I open it every day and look at the latest ones. Most are viable in the cold light of day, some are not. But the viable ones don't come to life.

Why not? Well, there are several reasons:

1) The theme is a current topic, and these go out-of-date extremely quickly.
To get published, I would have to write my thoughts down straight away, send it
off by email to a daily paper and hope it caught the feature editor's eye.

2) I haven't studied the market and can't find an outlet.
I have one in mind about using Plusbus tickets when I travel by train and I even have a travel mag I would like to write it for. But I just don't get on with it. I hate to use more than two syllables but I am a slave to procrastination.

The George Hope novels have got stuck after three chapters. I have discovered that my main character takes centre stage only in chapter 2 so I need to put him firmly in his place in chapter 1. The third chapter reads more like a play than a novel.

It is a conversation between George and his best mate in the pub. I find that dialogue comes a lot easier than I thought it would. It just seems to flow. But now I have to fill it out with description. O well it's all a learning curve.

I know I have committed myself to Miss Write. Our wedding took place on 22 October 2007. I think I am making progress in our relationship, but this is not a honeymoon.

Plusbus or bust!

I went to Liverpool on the train yesterday. My main reason was to visit my Aunty Mary who is in Broad Green hospital. The second was to try out Plusbus. This is a bus ticket you can buy with a rail ticket.

The idea behind Plusbus is that it gives you unlimited bus travel within a specificied area of a city in the UK when you go by train. But I had the notion that not all bus company employees would know what it was. The reason for this being that the idea is little known, and the ticket looks just like a train ticket. And I was proved right.

Because when I went to the Travel Information Centre in Liverpool the lady there told me in no uncertain terms that I could not use that ticket on Liverpool buses because it was a train ticket. So I then went to Lime Street Railway Station Inforamation Centre and they told me I could.

Well, I found that the driver of the first bus only paid a cursory glance at my ticket because he was wanting to set off, but the second one at first refused to accept it saying it was a rail ticket.

But when I gently explained what it was and how I had bought it, he inspected it closely and let me on. It was a good job he did because for most of the journey I was the only passenger. This was because I was riding into the city when everyone else was going home.

O, and my aunt? She's doing fine.

He replied!

Within 40 minutes of my sending him the email quoted in the last blog GP Taylor replied!

I hate the word but I was GOBSMACKED.

I have emailed several well known writers over the last few weeks and not heard from any of them. Yet I got this back from him straight away:-

I certainly will [pray for you].

You have God and Yorkshire on your side...

I have decided to step out in faith today as a writer and publisher. This came about because I took delivery of the Writers and Artists Yearbook on Saturday. Audrey spied it and said I should set up in business as soon as possible so that such purchases come under the business account.

I prayed about this and felt that God was saying that now is the time.

Does this mean I have found my way home? I don't know yet. As I said in my very first blog only God knows that.

Keeping reading and find out with me.

Here I go!

It is 5.50 a.m. on Monday 22 October 2007. I have just sent this e-mail to the writer GP Taylor.

It says it all:-

I asked you two questions at Greenbelt Arts Festival at the Cheltenham Racecourse over the August Bank Holiday weekend.

The first question asked you to tell us the difference between self-publishing and vanity-publishing.

The second was: As I do not live in London can I ever be a published writer?

When I told you that I live on the edge of the Yorkshire Dales you told me to have a go.

Well, here I go. Today I become the writer Pete McCabe trading as Brook House Enterprises. It is 5.43 a.m. and I have just read your article on self-publishing in the Writers and Artists Yearbook 2008.

Thanks for your advice, both oral and written. Do pray for me.

And I ask you to do the same.

Blog Mobile

Here I am in Ingleton Library blogging under the auspices of Mary the Community Information Assistant (otherwise called a librarian) and her employers North Yorkshire County Council.

It's great to be here. I remember writing an article in the Lancaster Guardian a few years back about the great facilities there are here. But it's not just here. I have used Lancashire libraries a lot too, and they are very useful. I would imagine the same is true across all the counties of England.

I once sat here listening to Radio Gloucestershire as I worked on the computer and they had an item on the news that people are using libraries more but the number of book loans is going down. I sent them an e-mail to say that this was because people were using computers as I was at the time.

This morning I went to IMC and opened up the Prayer Room during the Coffee Morning. Although I had spoken to the right people about it, no-one there knew that it was going to happen. That was because Madeline and Mary who lead the Coffee Morning team were away on holiday. This was the unforeseen circumstance I talked to Audrey about over breakfast. There is a law I developed when working at Beaumont College: Something is bound to go wrong somewhere.

As it was, I had it covered with a little speech I had prepared for any eventuality. It worked. Henry Reid came up for a few minutes and this was one more person than I was expecting. So it got off to a good start. The lack of background sound and heating will be overcome in the near future.

Who knows what will happen next week.

Confession time

One promise I made to myself for this time of non-employment was: Don't watch day time television. This I have kept since my resignation.

But my boys watch it when they're at home. May God forgive me, I was tempted by one of those loan ads today. As I walked in the door from walking to buy milk at the Co-op, the voice-over was saying If you're a home owner just ring us for a loan. I confess I was tempted.

When you haven't got any money it's a great temptation to get into debt. But I am reminded of another quote, which should be in even deeper red than the others. It is from George MacDonald Fraser, the author of the Flashman series. He said it to his wife when he lost his job: I can write us out of this.

May God help me to do that.

Capernwray Capers

I took a couple from Peru to Capernwray Bible College yesterday. They are Raquel and Max who run a clinic, kindergarten and churches in the upper Andes.

They have been supported by IMC for some years now. They come over every few years to tell their supporters about the work they do and to introduce new people to it. So yesterday it was the turn on the Capernwray students.

Two things hit me about the place.

1. The building was an enormous mansion




2. The students were very young - 19 or 20 - and mostly girls from North America
   
   
   
   This is the house:
   
   

The North American girls looked like this:



They were fresh out of High School and were spending a few months studying the Bible in the depths of Lancashire before heading off to University.



Some of them were very touched by what Raquel and Max said.



I was interested to hear that it is exactly 60 years since the College opened and that the founder, Major Ian Thomas, died only in August aged 92.



What a place. What a man. What a story.

Setting up a routine

Whenever I go for counselling or advice about my mental problems the person advises me to set up a daily routine. I have been doing this over the last several months and in general terms it is like this:

AM Writing

PM Research

I tried this yesterday but the research tended to get in the way of the writing because I enjoy it so much more. The writing should take priority because that's the way I will make money.

On the subject of writing for money:

Dr Johnson said: No fool ever wrote except for money.

Everyone to whom I tell my ideas about writing looks at me with a quizzical expression that suggests I need to see the psychiatrist again. And they tell me I won't make enough money to live on, or before I set out on this dangerous course I should seek professional advice.

Well, Audrey and I are going to see our accountant today.

King Solomon wrote this in the book of Proverbs Chapter 3 verses 5&6:-

Trust in the Lord with all your heart,
And lean not on your own understanding.
In all your ways acknowledge him,
And he will direct your paths.

This has been my way of life since November 1974 and still is. It works.

Writing in Skipton

I went to a meeting of the ACWWYRG ( Association of Christian Writers West Yorkshire Regional Group) in Skipton on Saturday. A retired teacher called Pauline Bell talked about her life and how she became a crime writer.

In the afternoon she led a workshop. We had to look at the photo of one of her grandsons and make notes on what we saw. Then she asked us to spend ten minutes writing an imaginary piece about what he might have done at playtime on his first day at a new school. I enjoyed it and have decided to rejoin the ACW (Association of Christian Writers) national group.

My relationship with Miss Write is becoming more committed.

Blog 100 - Love your neighbour

I have just returned from a trip to the local garage to fuel up for today's adventures. I had interestingly different encounters with my neighbours at the same time.

When I was filling up my car the man who lives next door pulled up and got out of his large 4x4. I acknowledged and spoke to him but he completely ignored me.

On the way back I met my brother-in-law who lives two doors away driving the 15 year old Pugeot that used to belong to my in-laws. He stopped for me to go past on the narrow country road. I waved to him and he deigned to lift his hand but not smile.

Finally I met the man from the next house along careering down the lane that leads to our houses in his fairly old Escort. He pulled up sharply and went into the side. He got out, inspected his car and spoke to me. I advised him not go so fast next time.

These developing encounters with my neighbours was not what I was expecting when I set out. But I'm glad I had them, they gave me something to think and blog about.

Goodbye Mr Ruskin. Hello Brook House Enterprises

I have had to say goodbye to the MA Course at the Ruskin Centre.

To be honest, I struggled with it all last year. There was my depression, then family problems with dad, the boys and finally me.

My not having a job now means that I have no income and my inability to concentrate for long has meant that I would find it very difficult to cope with the workload. So, citing the above as reasons, I have departed the course.

This meant that I was no longer entitled to the counselling I was getting at the University, as I would no longer be a member of it. But I felt it was time to finish that anyway. I am ready to spread my wings and become what I know I am: a writer.

On Wednesday I spent an hour and a half with a Business Consultant at HSBC in Kendal talking over my ideas. He thought they were sound and so I am going to become a sole trader working as Brook House Enterprises.

Brook House Enterprises will have two active arms: Brook House Publishing bringing hope to the world through the English language and Brook House Properties building the Kingdom of God in Ingleton.

Watch this space.

A full day

I went to Manchester yesterday with Pauline and Lynn my fellow students on the Ruskin MA Course. We met on the train and then went to an exhibition at the Manchester Art Gallery.

Later we adjourned to Manchester Town Hall and listened to a lecture about Ruskin and the Art Fund.

It was like a hall of mirrors. The exhibition was a reflection of a large exhibition held in Manchester 150 years ago, and the lecture reflected a lecture given by Ruskin at the first exhibition. But it was great.

Then I travelled back to Lancaster by train, met Nathan and the station and went to watch Morecambe play Port Vale in the Johnson Paints Trophy. We were down 2-0 at half time but came back to draw level and win a penalty shoot-out 4-2. Brilliant. What a day.

Depression? Not yesterday!

headaches, pills and meetings

I've swallowed several packets of Paracetamol lately because I have had an awful headache.

I said to somebody yesterday "I've got a thick head. Even thicker than usual."

This was at the IMC Church Council meeting where I let rip on my feelings about our need to be involved in the Methodist Circuit Meeting. OK, I went over the top. I was shouting into the mike and blasting everyone's eardrums. But it came from the heart.

We need to really pray that when we meet again on Tuesday 5 February the right people are chosen to represent IMC at the Circuit Meeting. They need to be people with the time and energy to help build the Kingdom of God in this area through Methodism.

Relighting an Old Flame

I have flirted with Miss Write for a long, long time. But I have never yet made an honest woman of her. I've been afraid to commit.

We went out for 15 years when I was the Ingleton correspondent for the Craven Herald, the Westmorland Gazette and the Lancaster Guardian. But it was only a part-time arrangement.

This blog is a loose attachment. I like to let her know what's been going on in my life, but we don't see each other every day.

But just lately I have taken steps of engagement. On September 17 2007 at 7.30 a.m. I began writing my first George Hope novel.

After writing and editing a chapter, which took the most part of a week at two hours a day, I showed it to my wife Audrey. She is a woman of few words and when they come out they are straight talking. To sum up what she said: It has great potential. So I knew I was on to something.

Yesterday I found myself in HSBC Kendal asking about a business loan. Does this mean a wedding? Am I going to commit myself to Miss Write for the rest of my life?

Keep reading and see.

Why change so often?

I use AOL as my main portal to the internet. It is where I keep my emails because I can easily remember my address: PeterJMcC@aol.com. But they keep changing the look of it.

I opened it up this morning and it had a new look again. I only just got used to the last one. Why does IT infrastructure need changing and updating so often? Is it to keep up with technology or is it to justify the extortionate amount of money the programmers are paid?

It's the same with government. I think Ministers of the crown change things in order to make their mark, get noticed by Number Ten and get promoted.

Sometimes this goes drastically wrong and they get demoted. But at least they have had a go. But there's a great adage that says "If it's not broke, why fix it?"

I'm fed up with things changing all the time. Give me some stability for God's sake.

Am I a grumpy old man?

Worshipping Mammon

Today I have been worshipping at the Sheffield temple dedicated to mammon - Meadowhall Shopping Centre. And I enjoyed it.



Let me explain. For the last 24 hours Nathan and I have been on a trip to Sheffield. We did three things.

We watched Morecambe get beaten 5-0 by Sheffield United but it was fun watching with lots of other Shrimp supporters.

We stayed overnight at the Travelodge in Sheffield

We had breakfast at Meadowhall and stayed on for several hours looking round.

It was fascinating watching the shoppers. They were mainly women, either in twos or single. Some men were present but it was their female companions who took the lead.

Those men I did see on their own were mainly sitting on benches waiting for their other halves. Ah what a female palace of retail therapy!

Depression, it's a funny thing.

Depression is a funny thing. One day you feel ready to do anything. The next you just can't be bothered. That's how I am today.

I feel tired, lethargic, blase and everything else that stops you from functioning.

But hey, I can still blog, thank God.

Left side down

I feel slightly less gloomy today, thank God.

But my left side has been giving me trouble for the last three weeks. My left arm particularly is always painful and feels heavy. My left leg too isn't at its best.

O well, as somebody said when I complained about the headaches and tiredness, "You must be on your way out!"

So I retorted: "I'll save a space for you, then." and he's a lot older than me.

I'll just have to remember that this fixation with health is a symptom of my depression.

Fed up

Gosh, I feel awful this morning - mentally, physically, spiritually. But especially mentally.

The Germans have an expression: "Alles ist zu ein ander". It sort of means everything is mixed up and back to front. Well, that's how I feel this morning.

O I know blogs should be bright and breezy and people should be bright and breezy and it seems to me that there's a lot of pressure on 21st century Christians to be bright and breezy. But I'm not.

So there.

God speaks - and how!

On Sunday Sarah Jackson from Cumbria led a family service at IMC with the title "God speaks". It was really good.

What amazed me most was that several experiences of last week all came together in that service. Let me explain.

On Tuesday I went to the nurse at Bentham to have my ears looked at to see if I needed wax to be removed, as I am not hearing very well. She poked about and did a bit of dewaxing but that was not the problem. On Sunday I was asked to tell the congregation how I can hear more clearly when my ears have been syringed.

On Thursday evening I checked into a room at the Travelodge on the M40 Cherwell Services and found a towel behind the bathroom door and a pair of cotton buds on the chair. Cotton buds and towels made an appearance in the service.

On Saturday afternoon I engaged in woodpecker worship and blogged about it. Would you believe it? The service was all about stopping and listening to God just like I stopped and listened and watched that woodpecker the day before.

AND THE SOUND OF WOODY WOODPECKER WAS PLAYED DURING THE SERVICE!!

Was God speaking or what?

What he was saying was that I should find out what it is that is hindering me from hearing him and have it dealt with. Well, the obvious thing is depression.

So I went back to a second session on "Dealing with Depression" at the Village Well, Hellifield and that helped very much.

O, and I have decided to stay off any tablets for the time being.

I'll let you know how that goes.

Woodpecker worship

I saw that woodpecker again just now. I was down at the bottom of what I call the Primrose Walk, right at the edge of our land. I was hacking away some old nettles and brambles when I heard a familiar sound.

It was the same plaintive knocking that I heard last week and I thought, that woodpecker's about somewhere. So I stopped and listened. I pinpointed the direction of the sound and caught a flash of red. Then the whole bird came into all its glorious view.

As I stood there moved but unmoving, watching this green, red and black creature pecking away at the tree with bits of bark flying off in all directions I began to thank God for that moment, that sight, that bird and I realised that it was a form of worship.

It was not hands-in-the-air worship, or singing-fit-to-burst worship, not even liturgical worship but woodpecker worship: thanking God for his glorious creation summed up in a beautiful busy bird.

Then other birds joined in the chorus and I was transported with delight. How great it would be if we in the Western world could all join in woodpecker worship. In other words: stop, listen, look and worship.

PS I got the picture off the internet. My camera is broken. Ah well, back to work.

You name it, I've been there 2

It is 09.13 on Saturday 15 September and I have just returned from a jolly old jaunt round Britain. Well, a bit of the South anyway.

I set off with my daughter Emma at 7.30 a.m. on Thursday morning and headed for Headington Oxford. She was due to sign up for a shared student house there with three others - two girls and one boy.

We got there about 11.30 a.m. and I was delighted to observe that the three girls were accompanied by all their dads and one mum. Hooray for the Lads! The boy arrived on his own.

After introductions to the rooms and logistics by an agent who was no older than they are (19/20/21) we left them alone to decide on the room they each wanted. This they eventualy did.

I raced upstairs with Emma's gear (yes, at 54!) and then we went to Tesco's to eat and shop.
While we were eating our sandwiches outside on a bench a beggar asked us for money . If I wasn't so poor at the moment I would have bought him some lunch.

Then we took the shopping back to Emma's new place and I scarpered off to the Travelodge at Cherwell Services. I spent about 15 hours there for £15. What a bargain! On the way down we had stopped off at Stafford Services where there were adverts everywhere for the nearby Premier Travel Inn at (only!) £48 a room. No contest.

Yesterday (Friday) I meandered through the North Cotswolds, going through Chipping Norton, Burford, Bibury, and Cirencester, the place of my birth. I saw a sign for Siddington (my mother's birthplace) and the Royal Agricultural College (my father's alma mater) and realised that those two places led to my birth.

I then spent just over an hour in Brimscombe and motored on to Dad's at Painswick.

After a quick lunch Dad, his friend Michael and I went on through Stroud, past Stonehouse to Slimbridge Wetland Centre. We all had a great time walking, talking and admiring the birds.

By the time we got back to Dad's I was tired out. I spent the night in the Guest Room

But this morning I got up at 5.00 a.m. and made my way back from Painswick to Ingleton in just over three hours. This is a record time, brought on by lack of time and money.

Hope for the Future 2

I've been thinking a lot this morning about HOPE.

My depression gives me a feeling of hopelessness and yet my faith is one of hope.

I went to see the nurse about my ears yesterday. It seems I am going deaf. So now I am suffering from depression and deafness.

Don't you think our country is in this state too?

We are depressed and hopeless because of our post-modern culture. We are deaf because we are unable to hear God's voice clearly.

O that the Church would bring spiritual hope and hearing back to this country.

O that God would use us to do it.

O that He would use me to do it.

The Woodpecker and the Dragonfly

Living in this mental prison means I can get out more.

These last few days have been sunny and warm and so I have been eating my lunch outside on the lounger looking at Ingleborough.

Yesterday I heard a knocking sound and looked up to see a woodpecker inspecting the large tree to my left.

As I lay there and watched for a full ten minutes it climbed ever higher up the trunk and then along the branches, tapping here and there with its beak. What an amazing sight it was: beautiful plumage; intense acrobatics; one of God's wonderful creations. And I could watch it until it eventually flew off to try another tree.

A little later a flash of blue lower down near the hedge row showed me the trail of a dragonfly. Just a few seconds of blurred blue flight and it was gone. But it was no less exciting than the bird.

I hate having this depression but I am enjoying the sudden sights on the journey.

You name it, I've been there

Yesterday life took me on a journey of discovery across North Craven.

I crisscrossed the map on appointments and meetings which took me to Ingleton, Settle, Giggleswick, Bentham, Kirkby Lonsdale and Hellifield.

The events included prayer meetings, dentist, coffee, picking up son from the bus and Dealing with Depression.

This last was what took me to Hellifield and the Village Well. I started on a five week course dealing with my current mental condition. Most of what was said is under wraps but I hereby give myself permission to share one of my utterances with you:

"There is one thing which is helping me through this time of depression and that's blogging."

Once again, thanks for being there. And thank the Lord for the blog.

Dreams and Reality

Coming off these anti-depressant drugs is really weird. I am having very strong dreams.

They started as nightmares but my wife Audrey prayed over me and they gave way to very realistic dreaming.

They are so realistic that each time I woke up last night and turned over after a dream I had to tell myself: "This is reality. I am in bed at Brook House and I am turning over." It was remarkable.

A lot of the dreams take me back to former work situations and difficult relationships I had there. Today I see that this is bubbling up from my subconscious and showing me the repressed anger that is down there.

May God give me the grace to forgive those who have hurt me and to get rid of the anger that is causing my depression.

Coming off the tablets

This is awful. I spent most of yesterday afternoon and evening in bed. I felt so ill. My family couldn't understand what was happening to me. Uuugh!

Today has been spent lazing about in the house and out here in the sunny garden. Nathan and I were supposed to go to a football match at Chester last night but I was in bed. Morecambe won with a last minute penalty! They are beating all comers.

I now have four days without any tablets and then go on to a stronger regime.

When I told the Doctor yesterday that my health (or lack of it) was dominating my life, he said that was yet another symptom of depression. What a weird thing it is. I'll be glad to be rid of it eventually.

Finding my way out

I don't know what colour Cold Turkey is but it's what I'm going through at the moment.

Cold Turkey is the nickname for coming off drugs. I feel awful. But God is still at work in my life.

After seeing the Doctor this morning I had lunch and went to bed. I just couldn't cope with my headache, jumbled thoughts and angry feelings.

I got up after a couple of hours and watched God TV. I don't usually watch TV in the day time but I felt drawn to it.

The first thing I watched was a young American chap preaching at the Rock Nations Conference 2005 in Bradford.

One illustration he used caught my imagination. It was about some men called The Incredibles who built the largest aircraft hangar in the world to house 747 jets that had not yet been built. When the planes were built they changed the world.

Then a song came up called Now is Your Time by Michael W Smith. It was about about a girl who was killed in the Columbine High School massacre. Her name was Cassie, a strong Christian who died for her faith.

Then I walked into the conservatory and a robin was fluttering about inside trying to get out. It suddenly flew out of the open door and away to freedom.

I felt that through these three things the Holy Spirit was speaking to me. He was showing me that I need to find my way out of this depression. It might take months. But my time will come and I will build something no one else has yet seen which will change the world.

Please pray for me to find the exit.

Stop taking the tablets

Today is a red letter day for me. It is the day I took my last ant-depressant tablet the name of which I never can remember. I have been taking them off and on since November 2004.

Since I saw the psychiatrist last week I have been going onto a new regime. The start was to just take one pill a day instead of two, for one week. Now I am to stop altogether for four days. After that I start another sort of medication.


So today I took my last tablet. My poor wife knows it. I've been like a bear with a sore head last night and this morning. Those pills must have been doing some good. The trouble is, I didn't realise how much.

I felt absolutely awful this morning. But when I came to this blog and saw how people enjoy reading it almost as much as I enjoy writing it, then I knew it was worth it.

Thanks for being there.

And thank the Lord that I can still write.

Lunchtime View

I can't believe it. Here I am on Poverty Street, learning how to live on very little, and God blesses me so much.



I chose to eat for my lunch today the remains of the spaghetti that Emma cooked on Tuesday. I mixed it up with cheese and brown sauce and it was the closest thing you could get to a Chinese meal without the money or the chopsticks.



As I was padding through to the consevatory I thought Why don't I eat in the garden today? So there I was eating free Chinese nosh with the most fabulous view in front of me.



It looked like this, only better.



Why better? Because I could see the lawn, a beautiful carpet of green.

Is God generous, or what?

Tatterthorn Tat

Just before she went to work at 11.00 a.m. Audrey announced "I'm going for a short walk". Before I could argue with myself I said I would go with her.



We set off round the Circle. This is a 40-minute walk we often take near here which includes our own Tatterthorn Road. Audrey soon had to go back but I carried on and kept busy picking up any bits of litter I saw.



Pretty soon my pockets and hands were full of tat: plastic bottles, tin cans and fag packets. Why is there all this Tatterthorn tat? I wondered. Don't people realise how beautiful this area is? They only care about themselves and getting rid of their rubbish.



By the way, "tat" is defined in my Chambers Dictionary as

Pretentious odds and ends of little real value



A bit like this blog really.

Through Stones

I was praying at IMC this morning and looking at the way our forefathers built the original chapel building in 1838. I noticed that the walls had different sized stones put together with a layer every so often of flat stones.

As I was thinking about this Tom Brown Senior came along. His men built the 2005 version of IMC. He said that the flat stones were through-stones which helped to keep the wall intact and standing. "Well," I observed, "They've managed it for nearly 200 years. So it must have worked."

This got me googling on through-stones and I have found that they need to be selected at the beginning of the build. So those original chapel builders chose those through-stones to be in place before the work started.

Through-stones hold the two different parts of the wall together.

Through-stones help distribute the weight of the stones better and can actually add about 75 years to the lifespan of a wall because the wall can settle that much more before it falls apart.

God give us through-stones at IMC 2007

Celebrate little victories

I just wanted to share with you what I felt the Lord showed me this morning, that we should celebrate little victories.

I've had a pile of papers overflowing a plastic box in this office for months. Every time I walk past it, which is several times a day, I think "I must make a start on that." I promised Audrey I would do so several times, but it has all come to nothing.

This morning I spent several minutes looking at it from my computer chair and thinking how I could get started. Then I walked over to it and took some books and maps out and put them on the stairs in order to go where they should be.

As I realised that I had made a start I thought about the second time King David made a start to bring the Ark of the Covenant back to Jerusalem. I knew I had read somewhere that they had just gone a step or two when he celebrated.

I found it in 2 Samuel chapter 6 verse 13:

When those who were carrying the ark of the Lord had taken six steps, he [David] sacrificed a bull and a fattened calf.

In other words, he rejoiced in the little victory of taking a few steps forward. So I give thanks to the Lord that I have made a start on the box of papers. Hallelujah!

Up and down, up and down.

Here's some information you may not know. The Americans call a see-saw a teeter-totter. And that's what my life feels like at the moment.

Just like the man in the picture it goes up and down, up and down...

Up I go in spiritual ways, when I meet with God and He changes everything. Like a couple of days ago when I got a book called Feeling Good from my friend Mary in Tasmania. It has great ideas in it for depressed people. I hope and pray that I will put them into action.

And things are looking up in family ways too. Emma celebrated her 21st birthday in style over the weekend. She was ably assisted by her mother who helped in all sorts of practical ways (as she always does). Audrey was supposed to be in France with a prayer team but she stayed here. I was not happy when she decided that, but she was right after all.

Matthew has jumped out of his depression and is busy climbing mountains and applying for jobs. What an amazing, miraculous change. Thank you Lord!

Nathan started at Kendal College today. I took him to catch the bus at the Community Centre at 7.30 a.m. and then went on to pray at IMC. I get a real buzz out of that.

Down I go physically and mentally. By 9.00 a.m. I was suffering from the usual headache, nausea, and sensitivity to light and sound. The only answer to this is to lie on the settee. Peter Capstick rang up as I was doing so and suggested I walk it off.

Then Audrey came in and I pointed out "It's a lovely day out there." (We British love to talk about the weather, you know.) And straight away she said "Let's go for a walk then." So what could I do but go along with her?

It worked. It brought me back up again. Not as far as when I got up but a long way up from where I was, thank God.

So the journey of finding my way home has many ups and downs, like a see-saw, or teeter-totter.

Jobcentreplus Interview

I went to Skipton on the train from Ribblehead yesterday for a work-focused interview with an Adviser at Jobcentreplus.

It seemed more like a computer-focused interview to me. The woman kept looking at her computer screen, asking questions off it and occasionally deigning to look in my direction.

When the computer said "What sort of work are you likely to look for in the future?" at first I said "Well, Church work, I suppose."

Then I leaned forward towards the human being and said "But what I really want is to be a writer." Her eyes never flickered from their gaze at the screen and her face registered no interest whatsoever.

But hey, I picnicked in the Yorkshire Dales and took a train on the Settle to Carlisle line and I wasn't even on holiday. And I got the fare back.

And the psychiatrist said....

"You don't have ADD."

Oops, sorry. Self-diagnosis via Google doesn't work.

But she said I did have some sort of depression which is not being dealt with by my present tablets. So she is recommending to the doctor that I change medication.

We'll see what that does.

A little note: She was younger than me, and that was quite a shock.

Praying Through

The Primitive Methodists knew a lot about prayer. They believed in praying through.

In other ways they prayed until they knew they had they answer. That happened to me this morning.

One short prayer and I knew it would be answered:

Unlock the cage of my mind so that I can write.

Watch this space.

Greenbelt 3

Last day here at Cheltenham Race Course. I can't believe it.

It's been great just mooching round looking at what God is doing in and through the arts. And that's a lot.

I set off this morning intending to hear the composer Sir John Taverner talk about his music. But I ran into Jonny Baker (pixelated left) who remembered my talk with him at Durham last July. I was impressed. He invited me to the relaunch of Proost.co.uk at the CMS tent.

I tried Taverner but he was boring. Just mumbling into the microphone, and revealing some very dodgy theology. I left him and went to see the relaunch instead. Much more interesting. Have a look at the website.

This afternoon I had a go at Psalm Reading but I started falling asleep towards the end. Was I tired or was I bored? Perhaps both. But on the whole I am still enjoying Greenbelt. I'm enjoying it enough to pay £2 for a cup of coffee and half an hour of blogging anyway.

I saw the guy who does Fresh Expressions in Bradford. He said for Wendy Thornton to get in touch with him before she does her presentation on the subject at IMC on Saturday 15 September.

Greenbelt 2

OK I know this Christian arts festival is spiritual rather than Christian and liberal rather than conservative but I'm sure getting a lot out of it.



I have heard some really good talks on writing, literature and philosophy. Today I met a group I would like to know more about. Veritasse aims to promote Christianity in and through the fine arts. Just like me.



Finding Veritasse was one of those God-moments. I stumbled upon their tent as I made my way round an area of Greenbelt I hadn't been in before.

What a revelation it was to see modern art depicting the Christian faith and to meet the founder, Adrian Meller. He and I understood each other straight away. It felt like home.

Greenbelt

I motored down here to the Cheltenham Race Course yesterday. I am now on my second day at the Greenbelt Arts Festival. The theme is Heaven in Ordinary.



I'm staying with my Dad in Painswick and coming down here for the afternoon and evening. Most of my time is spent wandering around or listening to talks.



So far I have heard Andrew Tate talk about Heaven in Modern Literature.

Rachel Jones led a short story workshop to which I contributed this micro-fiction:-





The Final Step



"Watch your step." he said.

"These Dales are beautiful" she thought, "But they're also treachorous"

"What do you mean?" she said.

And he was gone.

She stood alone.

Again.



Rachel Jones said it was concise and economic.



I know I'm meant to be here and God is speaking to me. Pray that I will hear Him clearly.

Unearthing treasures

Earlier this year when I was helping my Dad move out of his house into sheltered accommodation I unearthed some real treasures. I found a nice suitcase he didn't need any more, and a few other things. But the most precious treasure I found was a letter.



It is the first letter I wrote as a Christian. I wrote it from Hobart, Tasmania, Australia, the day after I gave my life to Jesus. It was written one week and one day after I left England to seek my fortune Down Under. A lot happened in that week as you will read in the letter.



I am going to transcribe it for you.

3 Greenway Ave
Lenah Valley
Hobart
Tasmania 7008
22nd Feb 1974

Dear Mum and Dad

Something wonderful has happened. I have found what I came looking for. Not a job, not plenty of money, but God. Yesterday I became a Christian. I realised it was the Holy Spirit that brought me here to Hobart and I also realised that I just had to accept Jesus Christ as my Saviour. So I did. I cannot explain how wonderful I feel.

You will remember that I wasn't able to give you any definite reason for coming here. That was because I could not face the truth. Deep down inside I knew that God was bringing me here, but I was too embarrassed to say it. More than that, I did not really understand. It was the same at the Airport. I really did not want to go, but I knew I had to. Once I got here and the Christian Renewal Centre, I knew why I had come. I have never felt so certain of anything in my life. That was on Sunday.

One night I prayed with Mary until 2.00 a.m. On the next day I thought about it all day. The same the next day, and it gradually became clearer. Yesterday I went back to the Centre and professed my faith in Jesus. It was wonderful. I can face anything now, even death, without fear. Well, I suppose this will be a great shock to you. I hope it will be more of a wonderful surprise. What a week! To fly 12,000 miles and become a Christian! This will have given you a lot to think about. I hope you will write and tell me what you think. I must now write and tell Sheila. I pray she won't have a fit!!

By the way, I have also seen how much I take for granted from you. Thank you for all you have done for me, and will do for me. I love you both very much. I hope you realise that.

Love,

Pete

To explain: Mary is my Christian friend in Hobart and Sheila is my sister.

I had unearthed a precious treasure when I found this letter in my Dad's house, but it is nothing compared to the treasure I had uncovered the day before I wrote that letter.

See Matthew Chapter 13 Verses 44,45 & 46.

Star Gazing

I spent last night under the stars. Not out in the open but as near as I could get.

When I skipped to the loo last night, as I often do, I realised that this was one of the few nights this summer when we could see stars. Not in the sense of dazed but gazed.

So I went downstairs into our conservatory (see Wikipedia article) and looked out. What a lovely sight met my eyes. We don't suffer from light pollution here and I could see a myriad lights above me.

What did I do? I opened up the blinds and lay all night on the couch gazing up through the glass roof. Wonderful.

These words came to mind:

When I consider your heavens,

the works of your fingers,

the moon and the stars,

which you have set in place,

what is man that you are mindful of him,

the son of man that you care for him?

You made him a little lower than the angels

and crowned him with glory and honour.

Psalm 8 verses 3,4&5

[God] took [Abram] outside and said, "Look up at the heavens and count the stars - if indeed you can count them."

Genesis Chapter 15 verse 5

Hands that flung stars into space,

To cruel nails surrendered.

Graham Kendrick

Funnily enough while all this romantic star gazing was going on I had left the bedside light on and it was keeping Audrey awake. I was completely unaware of this, the memory having been driven from my mind by starlight.