Well I’ve been back from Northern Ireland since last Friday and loved it there. We drove the Antrim coast from Larne to the Giants’ Causeway, then on to Port Rush, via the scary rope bridge. With the mad weather they have over there – basically rain and wind 24/7 – it must be one of the most cut off spots in Britain. The whole feel of the place is one of isolation, and quite beautiful desolation. If anyone is reading this from abroad and fancies going to Ireland, this is a must-see, just so you can experience the atmosphere. Like a lot of Ireland, though, you will need a car, as public transport isn’t up to much. One day I’ll actually post some photos on this blog and all the crap I’m writing about might make a bit more sense.
In Ireland, as well as meeting my beloved mum-in-law (I guess I go against the grain of mother-in-law jokes, she’s quite a special woman and I love her to bits! – and what a life she’s had too), and Caron, Sandra, and the various kids, Lynn was baptised at Pastor Billy’s church in Belfast, my mum and dad met the outlaws for the first time (and got on famously – they’ll be making return trips without us now!). We did a lot of driving (Loch Neagh, Lisburn, Carrickfergus Castle). Had a generally and very needed chilled out time.
My parents are coming over next week to do the much needed decorating on our house, nothing major, but a lot of snagging. We’re trying to sell up still, but the housing market in our part of the world basically froze around October last year, I expect to by writing this here blog from this here computer in the same house next year. Sad, but London winning the Olympic bid has meant that we’re going to be outpaced price wise in the parts of East London we originally set our sights on. So it looks like we’re going to have to look elsewhere or remain in Daggers, which is a mixed blessing. On the one hand, this house as done us proud, and it’s a pretty safe area, within walking distance of the tube, and generally not too unfriendly a place to be. On the other, we are 16 miles from the centre of town, and getting in even when the tube is running perfectly takes over an hour. Mind you, if could be Hayes!! (Note, I grew up in Hayes, so I know what I’m on about –the one in Kent isn’t too bad though!)
After Lynn’s baptism, she needed to find a church over here. For her, whenever she goes home, she gets fired up on a religious kick, which then dies when she returns to Dagenham. And thanks to a guy called Graham, on the blindoscafe list, she found one. Its only about 7 mins from ours on the bus, and you can take a look at it by going here: www.bethel.org.uk. My first impressions of it? – well it offers a good mixture of both spirituality (if that doesn’t sound too ‘new age’) and intellect. I’ve found churches I’ve left to be lacking in one or both of these aspects. I told the pastor that I came to Christianity from a cynic’s point of view, and had quite a few problems with reconciling my religious upbringing (my parents were Billy Graham converts during his 60s London mission) and my ultimate faith in empiricist science. I’m also a very self-reliant person (Lynn wonders sometimes why I got married) and therefore leaving what happens in my life to an ‘outsider’, namely God, is something I’ve a real problem with. My independence hasn’t really been a issue up till now, I’ve got to say, because there are too many people unable or unwilling take responsibility for their lives, but I don’t suppose as a fully functioning Christian you can be 100 percent dependent on yourself. I feel like a complete weakling when I find myself needing someone else, or a resource I can’t get via my own efforts. Anyway, this is an issue I’ll keep on the back burner as I do intend to keep going to Bethel. If they can deal with me (and the minister didn’t seem fazed by directness in telling him what I’ve written above) then perhaps I’ve found the spiritual place I need to be.
All that I can say about the Lynn is that I’m proud of her for sticking her neck out so publicly. She is no longer afraid to tell people about her Christianity. Its deeply unfashionable in the London I know to admit your faith, and doing it, especially to her boss, who is a very public atheist, takes a lot of balls. Sometimes it feels how it must have been to be gay in a small village circa 1952.
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