The seasons they come....

My friend's son's funeral was sad but also uplifting in a way. I've never been to a funeral with military honours and it was very moving.

Meanwhile, work is good right now and autumn is gathering momentum. This morning there was a scattering deep of red leaves on the pavement. The depth of the red was startling. The woman from the hairdressers - where I had my hair dyed autumn colours this afternoon - said the unexpected heat wave is predicted to generate a beautiful autumn. I hope so.The evening sky is starting to take on a sweeping magnificence and as I write these words I realise that my blog is becoming cyclic..celebrating the seasons once again.

Ready for Battle

Over the moans and getting on with it. Maybe it's good to retreat for a while but now it's back out in the midst of the battle.

I'd almost forgotten about the helmet, the light but resilient chain mail and the finely wrought sword, especially designed to cut through the crap. There they were underneath a pile of books and papers in the wardrobe, still gleaming gold in the early autumn sun light. Still a good fit.

Nips and Shadows

A large block of fairtrade dark chocolate and an unashamedly romantic novel provide some protection and comfort. A hundred and twenty new students - all those names; as I age, my memory is definitely getting worse - and the awful tragedy of my friend's son's death make me feel in need of a little comfort.

Brrrr...Autumn is making her presence known, kissing the leaves into early shades of red and orange. It's reached the point where I'm putting the central heating on in the evening. A sharp nip pervades.

Unsurprisingly, I feel somewhat melancholy. Fortunately, I'm too busy to dwell in the dumps for long. All those new students and a couple of new people to manage will help keep me occupied. Sudden death is well...so shocking. I have written about death in these pages before but although one came sooner than expected, they were not unexpected. I don't know how my friend will cope in the weeks to come as she takes in fully the implications of what has happened.

I've booked a two nights, three day trip to London at half-term to do a bit of Christmas shopping and explore a part of London I've never been to before. A choice of two depending on the weather. A play perhaps and a couple of museums before it's back to fine tune schemes of work. I might attend a service at St James's. The services there are beautiful and the sermons thoughtful and intelligent: accepting the presence of God without bashing one on the head with theological certainties. Although it is not a spiritual thing in itself, standing in a building created by Christopher Wren adds a certain something.

Sometimes it's good to get away by oneself...anonymous within a crowd. Free to observe and think. Two nights is just enough, after that it gets boring and one longs for company and that old familiar face, who doesn't get as many holidays as I do but also appreciates a bit of peace and quiet on his own. A little bit of absence is good for the heart.

And sometimes life get very real and serious

In the midst of the small preoccupations, life suddenly takes a very serious turn. Last week one of my best friends lost her son in the most tragic of circumstances. All the petty stuff was blasted aside as we stared for a moment into the abyss of meaninglessness and strove to gather ourselves and we're just friends, there to help support the family. It would be highly inappropriate to write in detail of others' sorrow or broadcast their business on my blog (if only others had the sense not to use facebook as if it were the Daily News) but as it affects me, then at least I hope I may be forgiven for alluding to it up here in cyberspace.

Sometimes words won't suffice.

For a moment life becomes like Torchwood

On my way home today, I was stopped by some  young men with fixed, blankly bland expressions and plastic badges with 'The Gospel of Jesus Christ' printed on them, who asked me had I ever read the bible. My answer that yes, I was aware of the gospel, was followed up by the odd remark, 'Do you know some people are describing Jesus as a prophet?' I got annoyed at this point and brushed them off, whilst thinking that this could be an episode from Torchwood. Are these blokes from another planet? No, just anti-islamic.

As I walked away, they shouted behind me, 'Don't forget, in this time people will refer to Jesus as a prophet!' Who exactly, racists like you?' I wondered, as I crossed the road and headed towards the market. 

Achy legs

The North Yorkshire coast is beautiful but my legs still ache from climbing up the 1 in 3 road and taking short walks on the paths around Robin Hood's Bay (I'm so unfit!) It didn't rain all week but, as we crossed the Pennines, it got darker and by the time we got home it was raining. Welcome home.

Back to work tomorrow.

A stone in the sea

I've now been married for 25 years. As I jokingly told my husband, he'd have served less for murder. Unfortunately, at the same time as this happy celebration, I'm balancing the sad loss of my friend Pat. Life goes on and she'd be the first one to tell me so. Sadly, I can't attend the funeral, which will be humanist and ecological: buried in a decorated cardboard coffin, she'll rest under an elder tree on the West Pennine Moors; I can't think of a better place. On holiday in North Yorkshire, I plan to cast a white stone into the sea. The stone is smooth but not rounded, having several sides to it. Unpolished, it sparkles slightly when I hold it to the light. It feels comforting in the palm of my hand. If I can find some handmade paper - plain white otherwise - I will write a message for my wise and feisty friend and, with a prayer of thanks for her life, wrap it around the stone and cast it into the North Sea. Does that make me a pagan? A little perhaps...but there's something about the spirit of the elements that Christianity forgets to uphold.

Meanwhile, riots have taken place in which four people have died .... how have we got to this place? Anger, frustration a sense of unfulfilled entitlement? Gang culture? Shit politics? There's a sickness at the heart of it all that we cannot undo. At least not on our own. I prayed about it.

Lots of my friends find it hard to believe that I have religious beliefs. Surely you're intelligent enough to realise the presence of a God is scientifically impossible and, anyway, what about all the bad things that happen, they ask. I can understand this. This world is full of horrendous things: hatred, war, murder, sex trafficking, abuse. How is it possible human beings can do these things? Maybe, as human beings, we have to accept we don't have all the answers and, without abdicating responsibility, search for answers outside the parameters of the 'material world'? Ever since I decided to trust the possibility of God, my life has been subtly transformed. I understand why to many people belief in God seems illogical but for me God is beyond logic. When I was a student, I stumbled across Keirkegaard, who wrote about taking a step beyond objective logic; it's a step I'm glad I made.