What's so interesting about my recycling bags?

Let It Be

"When I find myself in times of trouble, mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be. And in my hour of darkness, she is standing right in front of me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

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And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree, there will be an answer, let it be. For though they may be parted, there is still a chance that they will see, there will be an answer, let it be.

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And when the night is cloudy, there is still a light, that shines on me, shine on till tomorrow, let it be. I wake up to the sound of music, mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be."

In my opinion, one of the greatest songs ever written.

This latest entry is not a musical review however, so let us consider now my housemate's new friend. Well, you'd think he was a friend of hers, after-all he calls at the house on a regular basis, asking for her by name for a friendly chat. Having sucessfully avoided this happy chap for several weeks now, said housemate was most definitely cornered this morning when she opened the door to a prime example of your average neighbourhood religious salesperson.

I can't help thinking that trying to spread the word in this way is doing little more than degrade their message to the same level as that of the pizza menus left on our doormat for months on end, until a housemate/house-elf/womble tidies it away to the recycling bin. And if you think about it, that's a shame, because there's really no malice or ill-intent involved, yet they're so very, very irritating and you can't help wishing they'd leave you alone to the privacy of your own home. By all means, drop the appropriate literature through the letterbox so we can have a nosey over our cornflakes in the morning, but continual harassment is likely to not only turn people away from whichever religion/denomination/sect/cult you're trying to enourage us to join, but also any that are remotely linked, which surely defeats the point of the exercise?

It reminds me of a miserable Saturday afternoon, stood quietly in a queue outside the Brixton Academy a few years back. A determined-looking young man approached the pair of us, who were happily discussing possible songs that might be used to open the impending show, and asked us if we'd like a leaflet. From experience, taking the leaflet to later be recycled usually ends the momentary disruption to conversation, but alas, it was not to be.
"Can I ask you girls a question?" the young man enquired,
"Yeah, guess so," muttered two bored 16-year-olds,
"Have either of you ever told a lie?" he asked,
"Er, yeah, everybody has..." we replied, exchanging guilt-ridden glances,
"WELL!" he burst forth, "Well, let me show you a diagram! This is where you are now, Planet Earth." Excitedly he pointed to the middle of a now very intimidating leaflet, identical to the one offered to us earlier. Above and below our little planet were Heaven and Hell, respectively, illustrated in a dramatic way.
"You have lied. Because of this, you will be going here," the man's eyes narrowed as he pointed at the red flames of eternal damnation.
"YOU CAN BE SAVED!" he exploded, startling several baggy t-shirted teenagers nearby.
"Yes, you can be saved, but you must repent now, NOW, and vow never to lie again, do you understand?"
The glint in his eyes as he continued to tell us of our fate, and the tone of his voice, were anything but encouraging, reassuring or hopeful, as you'd like to think of an organised religion. My point being that there must be ways and means of going about these things that don't involve the semi-traumatisation of young girls on the street or hounding people in the comfort of their own homes.

Incidentally, ten minutes later we were approached by a man handing out books relating to Krishna Consciousness. We agreed to everything he said, smiled, nodded in the appropriate pauses and sent him on his way with the satisfied, but false, knowledge that we'd think about converting.

In retrospect I'd love to speak to the first young man now, and point out that it was his menacing demeanor that led to us lying to the second gentleman. Although, if presented with his questioning into our honesty now, my answer would be along the lines of:
'Yes, I have. I expect you have too. Most of us try not to, but it happens. And if what you're about to try and convince me of is really the truth, then I will discover it in my own time, and not because a scary man on the street tells me so. You're as human as I, and humans lie. If you want to convert me, your best bet is to be nice and hope we follow, or in the words of Lennon and McCartney,

whisper words of wisdom and let it be.'

It's always when you look like Tony Blackburn that you bump into a rockstar.

It was quite possibly my last student radio show this year today! Of course, I hope to be back after jungle-time, but who can say? However, Elena and I decided that the last show should go out with a bang...afterall, the only interesting parts of the show are the bits that go wrong!

So there I was, trying out my new wig. I bought it for Helen's birthday party this evening. It's a 'Green Party', so I thought I'd twist it a bit and come as Dr Alan Statham from 'Green Wing'...if you haven't seen it, you're either too sensible or haven't lived!

Unfortunately, Elena and I decided that there was much more of a resemblence to Tony Blackburn, especially when donning the headphones to speak into the mic. And so it was, with I in my Tony Blackburn wig and Elena sporting a fluorescent green tutu, that Barry from 'The Futureheads' found us, and asked if Elena was the DJ.

'Pfft', I thought, 'Is this how one greets a great Radio 2 DJ? Radio 1, once upon a time, but probably before your time laddy...'
"No, it's her!" said Elena, pointing.
"Oh right, you just played my song..."

I decided to let his earlier slip pass over me, and invited him in for an interview. Amazingly, he accepted and came into the studio. Remembering that I was dressed as a man, I whipped off the wig, with the exclamation:
"I'm wearing a wig!"

Yes. Smooth. I'm sure Jo Whiley doesn't greet her guests dressed as a man.

The interview went very well, and I shall post a link to it when I've put it up on the internet. However, I'm currently back in the wig, coupled with a moustache, pink tights and a labcoat, so I really ought to go somewhere where there's more freaks like me, or else I'll get arrested! Laters.