BRISTOL - Let me Grab your Soul Away

The last post I wrote on Bristol caused something of a firestorm among its inhabitants - with many being accused of being 'the one' who made me proclaim that, after my day long visit, I had resolved to leave the country again. I should set this one straight: nobody in Bristol did that. Certainly not Charity; who fed me so many cups of tea that I'd probably have never left her flat if I didn't have weddings to go to. Or Jutta and Martin; although obviously I shall be visiting them in Bamburg very soon because, y'know, it looks very pretty. Indeed, let me be clear here, there is one person who you can credit for my booking of flight tickets that I cannot afford and you won't find her in Bristol. Or, indeed, on this continent.

In fact what I meant to say the last time was that, although the days to be notching up another stamp in my passport are numbered (I'm flying out to the States in January) I'd like nothing more than to spend them somewhere in the West Midlands and hopefully within striking distance of Bristol. That, incidentally, is both a whimsical blog comment and also a quick shoutout for anyone around there who wants to give me a job. I find writing applications a very tiring sort of business because of the genetic defect I have which forces me to fill up all the spaces on anything I fill out. Anyone who's received a birthday card from me can tell you how unpleasant the results of this verbal diarrhea can look like. The reason I am not a poet is because when I look in poetry collections I tend not to think 'what a lovely poem' rather than 'what an awful waste of space! Couldn't they have thought of something else to fill in all the white bits? Why on Earth does this thing cost so much when it's all blank verse and blank pages?!'

But, anyway, back to the point.


I have many more beautiful photos of Martin and Ros but this is my favorite. I call it: "Wedding pauses briefly as Bride and Groom spot something unsightly emerging from the undergrowth."

Obviously going to a wedding is the highlight of any trip for me at the moment since, it seems, they are my foremost method of social interaction. This particular example, of good Bristolian friends Martin and Ros, was much fun because of the random assemblage of guests who I half-recognised and half-remembered doing some sort of a campaign once at some undisclosed point in the past. Trying to recall names whilst slowly choking on volcano hot Indian snack foods is the sort of wedding activity I want to be much more involved in in the future.

Ah yes, Indian food. After a short ceasefire following those illness filled days at the end of the Phworld tour, curries and I got reacquainted this week. Four times. But, really, when you're meeting up with impending grooms, future chaplaincy assistants and ex-pats, Indians are not a choice: they are a responsibility.


Your guide to posh Bristol. We have one pretty but fairly useless tower. And, in front of it, a pretty but fairly scary statue. Posh Bristol: pretty scary, and pretty useless.

Aside from weddings and curries; this week was about getting properly reacquainted with all the folks I'd left behind a year ago and it was pretty much all delightful. And, perhaps more importantly, getting reacquainted with the city. Not owning a car and shunning the ways of the bike in Bristol means you get to see an awful lot of the place as you stroll from place to place. Going to and from the station is an epic hike taking in harbour side redevelopment, a bit of the grungy downtown (understand that the way I go isn't necessarily either the shortest or most pleasant) followed by the rolling hills, soaring university buildings and finally the so-white-it's-unbelievable Clifton.

There's a good mix in this city - although you do sometimes have to get on the fabulously bumpy local train to get at it. I took my first trip to Stapleton Road this week where church sits alongside mosque, Sikh Temple sits near Pakistani Women's Centre and you can find every Polish or Indian after dinner sweet that your heart desires. Yes, I'd like to get a job based in Bristol or thereabouts. I'd like to spend some more time in the lovely West Country. And then, I'd like to leave again and come back and get all the pleasure of leaving and coming back again. That suits me. Now let's hope it suits someone whose job I've applied for.

Other recent highlights: (1) Finding the first outside toilet in a house for many, many years (they must be so proud) (2) The first meeting with Samuel Taylor (two thirds of the way to literary greatness already) who has developed the fantastically useful habit of sleeping through church. Clever baby. (3) Fajitas. Where did you go? Don't ever leave me again, baby.