I went to church yesterday

As a devout atheist, going to church is not something I regularly do, but yesterday was an exception.

I had a very pleasant lunch with the author Ronald Blythe. He's a lovely man who is still working, despite being in his mid 80s. I can learn so much from him about writing, England and life. He is a delight to be with.

After lunch we went for a walk. He took me to Wiston Church, which was build in 1135 and sits in the grounds of the local Hall. (He explained that churches were build next to the Hall, with the villages evolving later) Ronnie told me how he used to visit this church as a boy, and now comes here to preach.

On the wall is a painting of St Francis of Assisi. Ronnie explained how this was created around 20 years after St Francis died, so in about 1240. That's an awfully long time ago. How did the story of St Francis travel to this quoet corner of Essex? There was no internet, no Ryan Air and in fact nothing much at all - yet people travelled far and wide.

To be confronted with the past when you're rushing headlong through the present is so important. It puts your life in context - it reminds you how insignificant each of us really is!

Retirement - rude word or something to shoot for?

I had a conversation yesterday with someone younger than me. He's a successful, professional fundraiser at the peak of his career.

We talked about our plans for the coming year and beyond. I'm starting a new business (a social enterprise publisher) and he's got the kind of heavy workload that people with a great reputation in their field always collect.

What bothered me was his announcement that he intended to retire somewhere between the ages of 50 and 55. He must be younger than I thought!

I was 53 on Friday and so am in the middle of his 'retirement zone.' When he is my age, he wants to stop working. I on the other hand am still trying to work out what I want to really do when I grow up!

Retirement as our parents knew it is not an option for many any more and thank goodness for that. The idea of deciding one day to stop working, stop earning and most of all, stop contributing to the world seems ghastly to me.

Today I'm off to meet author Ronald Blythe for lunch. He's best known for his book 'Akenfield', published more than 30yrs ago. He's still writing now, at the age of 85. Like me, he has not time for retirement, more the gradual change of lifestyle from' full on/flat out' to something more relaxed and perhaps introspective.

To me, retirement is a rude word . . . . !

The snip

I was fortunate to meet Kerry Whybrow last year. Kerry is one of the people I interviewed for my book about prejudice, 'I Know Someone Like That', which will be published early in October.

Kerry was born a man and has led a fascinating, at times tragic life. Unlike so many transgender people, she is quite happy to speak out and seek publicity if it helps challenge people to understand the increadible journey she and many others feel compelled to make.

I spoke to her this morning. She's in Charing Cross Hospital and as of yesterday is now physically a woman too. Never slow in coming forward, she described her surgery to me in great detail, proudly telling me that she is now very well equipped to satisfy any man who comes into her life.

People often accuse me of 'collecting' unusual people. I don't think that's strictly true. What I can admit to is a fascination with people who have the courage to be themselves in the face of opposition. They can be entrepreneurs, activists or in the case of Kerry, people who take the largest steps to become the person they truly want to be.

I learn so much from people like Kerry. They help me realise how important it is to be yourself, whatever others might say.

You know when your kids are truly adult when . .

. . . they decide to make journeys you're not sure you'd enjoy yourself!

Both of our kids are currently preparing for 'advanced foreign travel' by subjecting themselves to spooky vaccination programmes. I hate needles and so theprospect of protecting myself from rabies, yellow fever and all the other nasty diseases that seem to be lurking around outside Europe would not be something I'd enjoy.


However, when you're in your early 20s and determined to see something of the world, it's perhaps no big deal. This summer sees our son Tom driving to Mongolia with three friends in an old Land Rover and our daughter Ruth working in Uganda on a malaria project.

As we enjoy a quiet summer in Norfolk, with a week in La Rochelle to break the routine, two rather alarming thoughts keeps coming back to me. First, my kids are grown up and braver than me. Second, middle age seems to have arrived unnoticed!

Oh dear . . .

Living Library

Yesterday I spent five hours in the library at Whitechapel being a 'living library book'.

Along with some 20 other people, I was there to represent a prejudice that others might have and feel moved to explore to me. I was there as a Bodyworlds body donor, someone who has signed up to a deal that will see my corpse plastinated, posed and put on public display when I die. Others represented homelessness, humanism, trans-gender, a medium and many, many more.


I was most affected myself by meeting Vikki Lucas. I spent all day plucking up the courage to recognise what was clearly a hang up about appearance. I was dying to ask Vikki lots, but we ended up just chatting. The thing is, she doesn't see her appearance (a rare genetic condition) as a problem - it's simply the way she is. My perceptions of how it must affect her, were my problem and for me to deal with.

I went to help people visiting the library understand me, but ended up being challenged myself. Meeting Vikki and realising that she's just an ordinary person with an unusual face was somehow deeply significant. Do I really judge people by how they look? Am I prejudiced? Curious? Drawn to the extreme? And if so, why?

The beach and a day of quiet contemplation beckons . . . .

Spinning hits Norfolk

Years after everyone else, my local gym has bought a batch of reconditioned spinning bikes and launched some super Sunday morning classes.

It's supposed to be brilliant for runners so I signed up - to find I'm the only bloke doing it, so there's the added bonus of being surrounded by red faced women!

Yesterday, there was a perma-tanned, false nailed, heavily made up, blonde 40+yr old at the spinning class on Sunday - pretty gruesome for a Sunday morning - (well, she didn't do anything for me!) Although the rest of us were dripping sweat, her mascara didn't even run . . so either she's supremely fit or she kept the resistance on the bike to a minimum . . . perhaps I should try that too (cheating that is, not mascara!)

A difficult decision

Isn't it strange how a harmless oversight can lead to a massive conundrum? I popped into the gym today, on my way to a meet a senior public sector manager. My thinking was that a hard run on the treadmill would be brilliant preparation for the meeting.

But then things took a turn for the worse.

After chucking my sweaty stuff in my gym bag and enjoying a log hot shower, I found that I had packed a pair of my wife's knickers instead of my own more modest underwear. What should I do? There was no time to go home for a pair. I could wear my sweaty ones - not nice; go without - not comfortable; or wear my wife's knickers and hope I'm not in an accident and rushed to hospital.

Of course the risk of being exposed in A&E as a temporary cross-dresser was extremely slim. I am a careful driver and why should today be the day I get unlucky and end up on a stretcher. Logic said pop them on and laugh it off at bed time when she spots her underwear clinging to my bum.

I couldn't do it . . . . . so opted to manage without.

What would you have done?