Don't judge a 'look' by it's cover

Book launches are totally new to me- I had never been to one and had no idea what to expect. I couldn’t quite work out how this particular one was planning to combine the over-enthusiastic nature of Evangelical Christianity with a serious secular book release. It didn’t take long for me to go from reading the launch invite to thoughts of super-keen smiling people, denim skirts, amplified music that takes you back to memories of 80’s folk ballads, and quiche. In that regard, I was convinced it could be interesting, if nothing else.

Dress codes are not my thing, and yet, to save face I thought it would be worth getting out the ‘smart shoes’. It wasn’t, and with the rain pouring down, the five minutes walk made my smart shoes significantly less smart. Definitely not the look for a book launch.

Google maps lead me to the entrance of a Community Centre. There was something about the front doors that said 'I'm made of shatter proof glass...for a reason', so I promptly pushed in, avoiding eye contact, and trotted up the stairs. Everyone seemed to be casually mingling, but the majority suspiciously lacked the book launch ‘look’. Glass of a sparkling something in hand I turned to administer small talk. Immediately the conversation became quite lively and I found myself rather engaged in conversations about the chronicles of Narnia, poverty in Traveller communities, and mud hut building with offenders in Wales.

A short interruption, the part for the 'book talk', gave way to a stream of praise for both author and content, a part I suspected would eventually happen. Unfortunately, I wasn’t listening, and couldn’t for the life of me tell you what was said. You see, I was distracted by the paint pealing off the rafters above us, the marked hardwood floor of a well used space, and the people like trees in a wild forest; all different types, shapes and sizes, but peacefully standing, listening and smiling. And there’s where it hit me. I was standing in a community centre, with a real community of people. A venue that offered honest transparency and a book that drew together people searching for social harmony, this was idealist heaven. I looked down at my damp shoes, which had at this point started steaming, and most probably smelling literally horrific, and yet, it just didn’t matter- to me at least.

As the talk finished, I found myself smiling. Closing chit-chat wasn’t a big priority, so I walked to the table, picked up a copy of the book and headed toward the door. If I’m honest, I had originally never intended to read the book. I knew the main jist was the Muslim-Christian conversation, and that I had heard it too many times from too many bigoted positions to even consider thinking about it again. But this was different, and we all knew it. As I rapped my scarf around my neck and headed out into the cold wind, I had a few seconds to reflect. If this book’s only strength ends up being a tool to bring people together where before they had felt alien, ignorant or different, I want to read it.

If you want to know more about Nick Chatraths book you can find out here, plus you can read his latest thoughts on his frequently updated discussion page. As you got all the way down here you may as well check it out:

www.onestopguide.org

The one about Hobbies.

I walked in to a vintage shop yesterday. I bet you think you know where this is going but you don’t, although I did end up buying a lovely cardigan. As everyone knows Vintage shops are unique places, not just because everyone in there is striving to be unique but also because it’s a place where people come, and are allowed, to reminisce. Talking about Tapes (preferably Now43), the SNES, your sisters Polly Pocket, and your mums huge shoulder pads. It all adds to the experience.

So what seems like a rather odd conversation now, was a pretty normal one when it happened in the Vintage shop, Brighton lanes. As I completed my purchase it was time to round off the conversation with the shop assistant. As one does, I inquired after his weekend plans. Apparently, said shop assistant takes every Sunday off. I couldn’t leave this hanging- it had the potential to be interesting. ‘To do…’ I added. 

Twenty minutes passed and I realised my mistake- never get someone started on their weekend hobbies. But I must admit, it wasn’t all bad. Apart from other things (like battle re-enactments and comic club, which did not interest me one bit) Jack and Teresa had spent the last 3 years trekking around Brighton and devoting two meals on a Sunday to trying out hundreds (if not thousands- but I have a feeling that was a slight exaggeration on Jacks part) of Pub Sunday Roasts.  ‘Over the last 3 years that's all we've done on a Sunday- think I've done them all'. The 'all' is a limited all, obviously, but I have to be honest and say that I think they have done a smashing job nonetheless. And here’s me, the common man, not even realising that that kind of thing could be classed as a hobby? You can never stop learning in a Vintage store.

I’m more traditional when it comes to hobbies, but it’s the traditional hobbies that just end up being boring. I think I'm developing a new hobby at the moment. I haven't quite pinned down what I will do, nevertheless this week I've developed a running route for the new running club I've got in the pipeline, had a disastrously fun game of squash, had a Moroccan themed first-of-many Come-Dine-With-Me nights and I've just purchased the next book in the list ready for February's book club. I had to turn down a games night last week for the sake of said trip to Brighton - who couldn't say no to a £3.95 return ticket.

Beside the hobbies, there are always the practicalities of real life. My car went in for it's MOT this morning and meant I had a cold brisk run to work instead of a warm drive in. A clever idea to get the bus to pick up the car from it's MOT garage is only clever if the bus is going towards the garage and not in the opposite direction. Apparently Stanton St John is not Stanford on Thames. So a round bus journey of 2 hours has finished off what has been a pretty relaxed Friday afternoon. I know 'bussing' is probably a legit hobby but I can safely say it's not for me. Would be a good topic in a Vintage shop discussion though- I’ll suggest it to Jack and Teresa when I next see them.

Staying in

Has it all gone wrong when the Internet seems more interesting than your actual life? I mean, things are happening around me, don’t get me wrong. I had invites to a gallery opening, two spontaneous coffee’s, a date with the cinema (not a date with a person, lets be clear) and I was even thinking of inviting myself to go for a run.

I know where it all started. The pasta lunch. As my mum, when on diet, insists ‘it weighs you down’, and boy did I feel floppy. Digestion whilst seated- the colon/intestine etc folded over into paralysis-  especially when a really good book draws you into that keen ‘hunch-back’ position. (Or would it flush out faster when your sitting down…? I assume that’s the logic of the toilet?) Anywho, the only exercise was from the coffee shop to the car, and from the car to the house. Front door open, bedroom door closed and I am ready for bed. Is this what I’ve come to?

And yet.. (the noise of pondering flutters about a bit)… It takes five minutes in this reflective morose state to realise that actually staying in is not that bad. Give legs a rest, I say! Just think of the clutch and brake muscle they have used this week! Good grief, and to think I almost labeled myself as lazy! And its not like I’m not being productive? Im on my bed, on facebook, texting, writing a blo… oh wait. Real lifes caught up with me again.

I think I’ll go for a walk.