Showing posts from 2021

Shout Out to the Bookshops!

We might not have seen much of them during the pandemic, but bookshops are still here for us. Personally, I've still been ordering through bookshop sites, even while I've been at home. And now that I'm tentatively stepping back outside, the one thing I look forward to most is time spent browsing in bookshops. But this week, I'd like to give a specially big shout out to the three bookshops who are now stocking copies of Asexual Fairy Tales and Asexual Myths and Tales . That's: Bookish Type in Leeds  [here] Gay Pride Shop in Manchester  [here] Lighthouse in Edinburgh  [here] THANK YOU!! And a big contratulations to my local bookshop, Waterstones Bradford Wool Exchange, which celebrates its 25th anniversary this month. Not only is it in one of the most beautiful historic buildings, but is a great supporter of Bradford Literature Festival. This week, I had my first proper visit since lockdown. Not only did I buy a couple of young adult titles with asexual representat

Witch or Saint? A Fine Line

  Today, I visited two famous caves in Knaresborough, North Yorkshire: St Robert’s Cave and the much more famous Mother Shipton’s Cave. Both are located by the banks of the River Nidd in the remains of Royal Forest of Knaresborough. Both once housed figures who were considered capable of working (or speaking) wonders. Both spoke truth to power in their day. So why is Ursula Shipton (neé Sontheil) remembered as a witch, while Robert Flower is remembered as a saint? I had been wanting to revisit both caves for some time. And to me, both felt like sacred sites. The cave where Ursula Shipton was allegedly born during a storm, is next to the mystical petrifying or dropping well. Water from a stream pools on top of a cave, then drops into a pool beneath, gradually turning anything in its path to stone. It’s an enchanting spot!  And round the side of that is the entrance to the “wishing well”, a cleft in the rock where the magical water pools, and into which you can dip your hand. This really

Swanwick in the Time of COVID.

  My 2021 Swanwick programme and notebook. Normally, my week at Swanwick Writers’ Summer School in Derbyshire is the highlight of my summer. But normality is something none of us has seen for the best part of two years. This year, I had my head in the sand, pretending it wasn’t happening until almost the last moment, afraid to either cancel or not cancel. So let’s just say that when I arrived at The Hayes Conference Centre, my anxiety levels were back to the way they used to be in my earlier Swanwick years. In those days, I spent most of my time lurking around the edges and retreating to my room. This year, I did much the same, for different reasons. Thankfully, the Hayes had wonderful precautions in place (numerous sanitising stations, picnic lunches etc.) Sadly, none of my particular friends were able to attend, which combined with my increased need for distancing to make it a little lonelier than usual. But there were still many happy moments and useful pieces of learning - especial

The Anne Lister Pilgrimage

A few weeks ago, I walked the Anne Lister Pilgrimage in Halifax . This is a self-guided walk, going from Halifax Minster to Shibden Hall and back, with “pauses for thought” along the way, relating to Anne’s life and faith. This is my first pilgrimage since becoming a member of the Community of Aidan & Hilda , and I did it on the last day of Pride Month, wearing my Gentleman Jack T-shirt.  I quite like the idea of a pilgrimage devoted to someone not known for being a saint. We’re aware of her faults. (All those seductions! Acting like a typical Tory landowner.) But we can also see her trying to genuinely engage with the Divine, as the person she was. Here are a few pictures: Someone left this encouraging message along the way. The Halifax Beacon. The thought below goes with it. I love that there is more than one Permissive Path. Destination reached! I’m not sweaty, I’m not sweaty…

Unconscious Bias: A Conscious Confession

  “The Origin of Love”, Anna Hopkinson 2019. Yesterday, something happened to me that has not happened before. I had to part ways with an editor on moral grounds. The person in question objected to my explicit reveal that the protagonist and his nemesis were conjoined twins in a former life. The reason? Apparently, two pairs of conjoined twins in one story “stretched credulity” and raised distracting questions about “who gets to move the limbs etc.” Couldn’t they just be normal twins or best friends? No, they couldn’t. I felt honour bound to say these comments sounded prejudiced, and I couldn’t accept the edits. I’m sure this editor did not intend to be prejudiced. It was unconscious bias. * This morning, I watched David Harewood’s documentary for the BBC, “Why is Covid Killing People of Colour?” It contained some shocking statistics; not least the grossly disproportionate number of Pakistani people living in deprived areas (something particularly relevant to my home town of Bradford).