The big salsa night is here and I have decided to stay home. My singing voice is returning but dance energy is still lacking; best not to chance a relapse.

Midnight Mass was enjoyable as usual. The nave and side aisles were packed and the convivial atmosphere compensated for my strained voice and barely audible top E. I drove in the morning through blinding rain on the M1 and M25 and arrived at Lorna's at the same time as Lawrence, Sarah, Hannah and Thomas. There's great comfort in knowing of the existence of a once a year extended family; Eve arrived in the evening and Vora and Alison on Boxing Day. Vora's chauvinism towards Barbados rum as opposed to the inferior rough stuff from Jamaica was most amusing.

The tradition of a long Boxing Day walk across Two Tree Island, Hadleigh Fields and Belfairs Woods was suspended this year; that bloody cold made me feel too weak. A gentle stroll along the Old Town and cinder path with L and T was all I could manage. Shirley, Lorna's friend of thirty odd years, came to lunch the following day. For the first time ever a great log jam in family communication was loosened, and I was able, in the presence of Lorna and Tariq, to explain the miserable effects of our mad old mother's ridiculous ways without being straightway silenced. Shirley's suggestion that Mum may not have been all that bright, in addition to being an obsessive 'windup', helped break that particular taboo. At last it is permissible to dismiss Hazel Nelken as an all round disaster on the maternal front without risking condemnation as an unworldly brat. What a relief.

Called in at Colston en route home to find Olly slowly recovering from his cold and preparing to go to London to finalise his CD. Beyond a wreath on the front door there were barely any signs of Christmas at Bridget's house. On return home I felt compelled to add to my comments on Jonathan's strange pieces of work. I do not want to upset him, but he should know that his disdain of 'conventional' history probably stems from his not having read very much of it. He might even deign to read the draft of my book now. That way he would at last understand that I long ago reached the cul de sac confronting anyone who tries to return to some mythical lo -tech rural olden days. Jonathan's journey in that direction has been purely cerebral, presenting him with an ever open and gilded vista.

Have just now finished Sheehan's book. My revision of the Jesus chapter will refer to the myriad layers of Christology to be read in the New Testament, which layers have been clarified by Sheehan, but I will still focus principally on the unmistakeable 'End of Days' bits.

Late seasonal greetings continue to arrive; an e.mail from Vittore, a card from Francoise and a pic of the grandchildren from Franca. Lorna is right. Franca genuinely loves news about the extended family and asks about Marek and Sabina's wedding as well as Irina and Mauri. WIll begin serious 'Jesus' revision tomorrow.

Christmas Morning Early

My voice has survived the singing of Midnight Mass, though top Es were a struggle. Hopefully, by Epiphany I should be back on song, and even, with good fortune, back on dance by Saturday, 29th December for Wilson's final do of the year.

But five days since my last entry and, despite this mildly debilitating cold slowing me right down, life has been pleasantly varied and rewarding. For the first time on Friday, the last day of term, I covered for a history lesson. It was gratifying that, even at that stage the students were receptive to my tales, songs and DVD which related the effects on my family of the big, bad guys on their syllabus. Mussolini and Hitler were only just in their graves when I was born and Stalin had five more years to live, but for Y12 students, born in 1991, all three would be as remote as Queen Victoria is to me.

Amy Eftekari kindly invited me to a Christmas party at Isis to see her singing with her band. Her beautiful genuine smile is a great asset in that job. She engaged her audience, persuaded them to dance and her band maintained the momentum throughout. Olly, like me, has a rotten cold. We were both loafing and dozing early this evening before he went to town to meet his mates and I set off to Southwell. He has some reservations about leaving the security of the Marines for the vagaries of freelance entertaining; I am confident, however, that his determination will secure him, if not wealth and fame, at least an interesting and viable living. It would be great if his CD, due for release in 2008, were to sell well and come to wide, public and broadcast notice.

Were he to be in Afghanistan when it makes its impact that would certainly be a good 'story'.

On the subject of stories, Jonathan Coope sent me some extracts from his Ph. D. thesis and asked for my comments. I was able only to be honest, though it was pleasant to know that my opinion might be valued. His work has an unpleasant and rather weird air. He appears to assume that no historians understand that mankind is an integral part of the natural world; that we are not its master. My guess is, and it is now becoming a modestly well informed guess, is that his assumption arises from his disdaining to read any history books. He gravitates to anything which confirms his view that man is a vandal and a menace; that only a small elite really understand the depth of the looming ecological crisis, and that most of us fail to notice our relationship with other living creatures.

I look forward to putting him right; to explaining the benefits of global capitalism and industrial expansion.

My first known Christmas present is a book token. Thanks Olly. I have loads to read for the holiday period, but must sleep for afew hours now before setting off for Lorna's.

A Quickie

For the first time I am writing away from home; a full four miles away, in Bilborough College. After the lunchtime Carol Service and with the first two chapters of Albert Schweitzer's 'Mystery' read for the first time, I feel much more kindly disposed towards the Christian Union.

Shweitzer, it appears, had forsworn everything in Christianity that was supernatural, that demanded a 'leap of faith'. Christianity had infused him with a mission to improve our life on earth by whatever practical means. He had relegated Jesus' miraculous cures of leprosy to the level of propaganda myth, and spent much of his own life assisting leprosy victims by means of his own science based skills.

The welcoming atmosphere, the smiles and and sweet singing of the students; strong, articulate students who are set to become tomorrow's leaders, filled me with optimism; as did the joy of last night's dancers at the 'Up and Down Under Bar'. Jenny and Rosanna had obviously enjoyed their first visit, the post Belvoir visit with me 10 days ago, as they were both there last night.

Nearly Christmas

http://www.oculture.com/2007/07/free_podcasts_of_university_courses_75_courses_and_growing.html

has been the greatest revelation since my last entry. Thomas Sheehan's lectures on the Historical Jesus were pointed out to me by Peter Lawley. There are 10 * 90 minute lectures by a prof. from Stanford University, downloadable via itunes. The first four have already determined, in part, the upcoming revision of my Jesus chapter. Although Mr. Sheehan, unlike Albert Shweitzer, does not think that Jesus himself believed that the End of the World was near, he can see quite clearly how the canon of four gospels, plus the rest of the New Testament have led to, and continue to inspire, that conviction.

I will make no attempt to recreate the flesh and blood Jesus, still less to proclaim his true message; after all I have no Greek, no Hebrew, and no Aramaic. My story will still be the persistence of the myth of original perfection and the predetermined end of wickedness. Christianity is but one, albeit a powerful and enduring, purveyor of that myth.

Sheehan's is the most lucid account I have yet come across that cuts through myth to the history beneath. Further, he has persuaded me to buy, and fortunately they are cheap secondhand, a series of books which claim that even the Kingdom of David and Solomon, as well as the original temple, are themselves part of a larger Jewish myth. Did the Jews per se, and not solely their Resurrection and End of Days beliefs, only 'begin' with the Persian occupation of the Holy Land? There will be some clarity on this, in my mind, and on this blog, early in the New Year.

Christmas cards, save that to Franca and family in Miami, are now dispatched, so should arrive before the day. Some were distributed by hand at Monday's milonga. Katya is a most trusting partner; it is lovely to find someone with whom to speak Russian as well as to dance. Mondays can be quite polyglot as I exercise my French with Claire and even some Italian with Carima. Dancing with Anna, and, to my shame I have no 'ancestral' Polish to share with her, was a reminder of how much I need that 'tango mango'; my signals are, as yet, most indistinct.

Bilborough work has been welcome and has kept me from gathering holly and buying those few Christmas presents on my list. Before going dancing tonight I shall bash my Southwell Christmas notes and run through my jazz chord exercises. 2008 will see an increase in 'electric' pupils, the building of a residual income, the publication of my first book as well as real competence and confidence in tango.

Sunday Morning Early (not Saturday)

I have slept my fill; five hours after Wilson and Cleon's party at 'Escucha' on Friday, two hours after a cidery Saturday lunch and six hours last night.

Friday night was yet another confirmation of the wisdom of that closing sentiment in Angela Carter's 'Wise Children' - What a Joy it is to Dance and Sing'. Our Christmas and Epiphany music for Southwell is sublime (or at least it will be when I have bashed those chromatic notes accurately into my head and am able to watch the boss and attend to the line and the dynamics). After a brief drink with Andrew, Julie, Robin, David and Sue at the Hearty Good Fellow I headed for 'Escucha' in Nottingham and three hours dancing. So many cheerful and familiar faces; so many lovely dancing partners.

Dancing the bachata with Anna made me truly understand the meaning of Irving Berlin's 'Cheek to Cheek', for all that Berlin's lyrics probably refer to the embrace of a slow foxtrot and the tune usually accompanies a quickstep. What is more the bachata hold is more 'thigh to thigh' than 'cheek to cheek' but those words say it all:

'Heaven, I'm in Heaven - And the cares that hang around me through the week - Seem to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak - When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek....'

Anna is light and flexible to a quite magical degree, yet is possessed of a powerful engine that belies her slender physique....

The Christmas edition of the Spectator has a page full of 'celebrity' comments on the veracity of the virgin birth. So many of them, including the Archbishop of Canterbury and Charles Moore, see a belief in this strange tale as central to Christian faith. Albert Schweitzer, the 'rational, scientific, modern German Protestant' had thought otherwise 100 years ago. I warmed to James Delingpole's comment; his style of Anglicanism was concerned above all with singing the hymns to the right tunes and conforming to the 1662 Prayer Book; the Virgin Birth, like theology generally, was of no great moment in his religious practice.

The whole article called to mind, again, that 'Grill a Christian' session at Bilborough a fortnight ago. The main spokesman had declared the Trinity was an essential article of faith, without which Christianity falls apart. Had he not heard of the Arian 'heresy' and of Isaac Newton's dissent from this one of Anglicanism's 39 articles? Had he not noticed the Unitarian chapels which are spread all over the land, never mind the Christadelphian and Jehovah's Witness meeting halls?

Those last two, plus Newton, see the imminence of Armageddon and the Day of Judgement as central to their belief and practice. So many American Christians see support for Israel and the ultimate destruction of the Dome of the Rock in Jerusalem to make way for a restored Jewish Temple as the main aim of their movement. Then there are all those communists; true Christians must abjure private property, and not merely by delegating communal living to afew monks and nuns who are bound by vows of poverty. Hutterites, Winstanley, Pere de Lamennais and Wilhelm Weitling thought private property the Devil's work.

Make of the Gospels what you will. I look forward to seeing what Schweitzer made of Jesus' styling himself 'The Son of Man'. Before that I must bake some goodies for tomorrow's milonga, write my Christmas cards, distribute business cards at Calverton Car Boot, clear the desk and do the ironing.

A whole week and a welcome flood of cover work has kept me from blogging. At least the New Year's arrival should not see my finances sinking too dramatically, if at all. Olly's September 2008 posting to Afghanistan is, by far, the week's most dramatic news. Fortunately he will be going as part of a band of 15 musicians, so there will be 'official' music as well as driver and medical duties.

Having reflected on Olly's determination to cut himself off from a steady income and guaranteed community, by leaving the Marines in 2009, I feel more at ease with the idea. Although we have much in common, he is far more single minded, more essentially musical, and far better trained for launching himself into the world of professional entertainment than I ever was. Not that my feelings are of any great moment; it is his life that will change; but I had to share with him the sometimes difficult, and steadily impoverishing, results of my own journey in that direction.

It was quite lovely, last weekend, entertaining Marek and Sabina to supper. Having spent my 20s and 30s as well as much of my 40s, with no real contact with parents or siblings, it is great to know that I have a real rapport, not only with 2 sons, but also with a future daughter in law. Sabina sees the light at the end of the City law training tunnel with an MA in prospect. Marek is discovering the difficulties of marketing, but I am confident he will not become so downcast as to give up; his determination to acquire material comfort is matched by expertise and a willingness to learn.

I was surprised to hear of their rental of an apartment on the Belvoir Estate; it is great that he does not want to cut loose from he E. Midlands, and I look forward to w/e visits to Belvoir as much as Marek and Sabina do. My first visit was on Sunday, with 3 dancing partners, en route to a milonga in the Castle. We were shown over a vast, solid and ancient flat with mighty fortress like walls and beautifully proportioned rooms; so many of them I lost count.

AT the milonga the exotic Gothic surroundings, the giant ancestral portraits, the candlelight, Christmas trees and stuffed reindeer, made up for the odd choice of music and crowded dance floor. My half joking suggestion to Jenny, Maria and Rosanna, that we continue our Sunday afternoon's dancing into the evening with some salsa at the 'Up and Down Under' bar in Nottingham, was, amazingly, taken up. We danced thus, almost continuously that day, from 5pm until 11pm; and we will meet again at Wilson's Christmas do tomorrow, in Fletchergate.

I have finally finished Albert Shweitzer's 'historical Jesus' book and am reading a selection of apocryphal gospels while I await Shweitzer's 'The Mystery of the Kingdom of God'. My revision of the 'Jesus' chapter will, if nothing else, be much better informed.

Time for Guitar practice.

A full week and still Josephus and Shweitzer are not yet completed. So many pages; so many words per page and such intensity of thought, characters and action. At least I know I was not the only person mystified by Jesus' constant references to himself as 'The Son of Man'. Discussions about its meaning have occupied theologians' minds for centuries. It is hardly surprising that Chrstians come in such an array of types.

I actually enjoy practising the electric guitar now. My Christmas sonnet is written and the first copy has been distributed. Here it is again:

Christmas Sonnet 2007

O little town pressed up against a wall,
Behind graffitoed slabs the people pine.
Ent’ring Jerus’lem’s no triumph at all,
The checkpoint’s set in steel, a conqu’ror’s sign.
How did Israel’s children reach this pass,
Leaving Ishmael’s family with the dross?
E’en ‘tis clear to one of Hebrew class,
His Kingdom’s come not yet, despite the Cross.
Established from a stable, stable times?
Magi, starstruck, mesmerized, foretold.
The Two State notion’s bovine, asinine;
O Shepherds, shepherd all into one fold.
Were Abram’s people governed side by side
Nativity might meet with Christmastide.

Rowland Nelken 4 December 2007


Business Cards are printed and distribution has begun. Disconsolate looking checkout people are a prime target for potential distributors. I shall go to Calverton Car Boot on Sunday if it's dry. So glad I did not stay in last night to nurse my disappearing cold and feel sorry for myself. Dancing at the Approach was the usual lovely experience. I have booked to go to the Devon Tango Mango in February. That creates a great incentive to gather some customers before then.

The weekend approaches. There is choir practice; Marek and Sabina are coming to supper on Saturday and there's a milonga at Belvoir Castle on Sunday. Hooray.

I have now booked a week at Tango Mango and have spent some time at Bilborough covering for biology and english. There is always something new to learn about Othello and, for the first time today, I learned that that there are intercostal muscles on both sides of the rib cage, the one set contracting while the other expands. At last my telecom plus 'cards' are ready for the press; I cannot afford to pass up Bilbo. work, which has been coming thick and fast of late with all the colds about. There will be plenty of time to devote to selling when work is thin on the ground.

Ads. have been distributed around local shops in time for guitar Christmas presents. Kirsty, who started on Monday seems most promising; she is dead keen and has a clear sense of rhythm; she obviously listens to alot of music. The rotating vocada, or whatever it is called is devilishly difficult. I must trust my own and my partner's sense of balance, and banish the sway back and twisted spine. The 'Mango' should help in that dept. but I must make my local individual effort too. Time for a little more guitar prac. before salsa prep. and bed. Who knows, Geraldine may summon me early tomorrow morn, for all that I could do with a clear up morning.

I am pleasantly tired, after a satisfying few days. We have just sung Evensong to a minute congregation. There were two middle aged black men in the stalls. Whether their presence had occasioned the prayers for the Church in Sudan I know not. Both the lessons were 'End of Days' material; from Daniel, the Abomination of Desolation and, from Revelation, the Beast No. 666.

Christopher Tye's 'Nunc Dimitis' and psalm 119 with 3 tunes were more thrilling for me than that awkward poem by Ursula Vaughan Williams for St. Cecilia's Day. Yes, the Howells' setting is dramatic but cannot stop 'a silver chain and golden as her hair' from jarring.

Bilborough students continue to impress me; they pick up dance steps very quickly and the accomplished are solicitous in aiding their peers who struggle. The Christian Union 'Grill a Christian' session was remarkable on two counts. The skeptic students had done their biblical research and deftly pointed out several contradictions. The 'panel of experts' were obnoxiously self righteous. They knew exactly which bits of the Bible were merely 'period oddities' to be ignored, and which were eternal divine truth. In other words they trashed the bits they did not like and built their arrogance on supposed adherence to their particular take.

Last night's St. Cecilia's Day Concert at the Minster was superb. Marcus' bass voice has improved no end with training, experience and maturity. Such variety there was from music entirely early 20th century and French. My current fatigue arises from the three hours of post concert dancing. It was great to watch Wilson and Amanda make such variety from the merengue. Anna was predictably wonderful dancing the salsa with me, but declined a later invitiation to join me in a bachata.

Back to the 'Grill a Christian' reflection. 'The panel' felt able to dismiss St. Paul on haircuts and the silence of women but were convinced of JC's miracle working. Albert Schweitzer writes of early C19 theologians, some of them Christian, who realised that for a readership enlightened, rational and scientific, the miracles were no longer credible. Stories about them had, however been essential in 1st century Palestine for any preacher, never mind a potentially Messianic one, to have any credibility. Tomorrow must address the disorder in the home and wardrobe and make plans for making money in between reading 'The Jewish War'; yes, I have at last finished the 'Antiquities'. It finishes with war loomin ever closer. The last chapters were more 'I Claudius' than the Bible. Palestine comes across as very much a Roman colony, dependent upon successive emperor's whims.

Am returning to regular guitar practice. With a new sound system I can play electric guitar with confidence. That will be my badge. Must prepare some shop window ads and distribute them at the week's end.

Tango in Huddersfield was well worth the trip through the rain and sleet. Roy and Claire were great company. We have more than tango in common. Roy also has a copy of Keble Martin's 'Concise British Flora' and can cut and lay a hedge, and Claire has a Ph.D in Archaeobotany. I must learn to utilise a variety of moves both seamlessly and at short notice.

Jesus and John the Baptist rate one short paragraph each in Josephus' 'Antiquities', compared to Herod and his string of chapters. I have yet to hear Peter Lawley's reaction to my comments on his choir's Christmas programme notes. Surely he does not think it a revelation to declare that the 25 December fixture for Christmas. is a date symptomatic of Christianity's marriage of convenience with the Roman establishment.

I am tempted to visit Devon again in the spring; this time for 'Tango Mango' - an intensive tango experience at Dartington. Time now for tea and a little more of Albert Shweitzer's book on the historic Jesus.

What a short and bitty entry that was. This is not secret like Pepys; quite the contrary. Hence it may appear a little demure.

A Complete Week

A little has been done, though as many items have been added to the 'to do' list as have been crossed off. This w/e has but one external fixture, a tango workshop and milonga in Huddersfield. Beata Maia Gellert's previous workshop was most instructive and well worth the trip up the M1 and the hazards of an unfamiliar ring road.

Josephus' work, I can only absorb in small chunks. But 100 pages of the'Antiquities' to go, and Herod is still alive. Adam lived for 930 years and only merits a couple of sides. Herod's c. 70 years take up 100s of pages. Reflection and notes on this work and others, together with Peter Lawley's most constructive comments on my 'Jesus' chapter, will be a great help when I come to recast 'Paradise Delayed'.

Josephus has been leavened by some easier reading, some books by my contemporaries who, although of widely differing backgrounds from me, and from each other, are not so remote as a 1st century priest from the Jerusalem Temple. Paul Pellicoro is a master of tango; he stresses the primacy of sensitivity and communication; they must be synthesised with technique. It is the first book on tango where I can follow the diagrams. That is probably because I have now at least attempted the figures he depicts. I doubt that I could have learned much from the pics and diagrams alone.

Ali Abunimah's 'One Country' is a compelling argument for a united Palestine/Israel. The 'Road Map' to a 2 state solution he sees as the route to an unsustainable Mid East apartheid. Peoples who are interwined by territory, family and economics cannot be split apart into separate polities. The West Bank and Gaza could only ever become a bantustan. The 'End of Days' elements of Jewry, Christendom and Islam are hardly visible in his book, even in the margins. The defusing of tension that a united state would bring, would, if all worked out, render them all but irrelevant. Today, all three remain powerful forces.... I must learn to describe this clearly for 'Apocalypse Delayed'.

Bilborough work has been most welcome this week, and the salsa session was very successful. At this stage the students prefer constant direction and guidance. If the course can continue into next term, they may feel sufficiently confident and equipped to devise their own sequences and to improvise; meanwhile close guidance is required.

Must promote my guitar lessons anew and work likewise on my own technique.

Time now to do the 'to do' list.

Catchup Time

I have just watched the Sasha Cagen 'movie' about 'to do lists' and her forthcoming book on the subject. Watching that was not on my 'to do' list for today, but writing this blog was; 'blogging,' however, had a low priority compared with activities that might contribute to an income.

I revised my programme. The last few days have been so full that postponement of writing them up would have left many details unrecorded. During Friday I discovered that so many School and Church Christmas Fairs, which, I had been advised, should be fertile ground for 'Telecom Plus' recruitment, were only interested in craft stalls. For once I skipped the post choir practice gathering at the pub as I had an early morning train to catch.

Lorna and Tariq had promised me a quite undeserved 60th birthday treat; a weekend in London with live entertainment of my own choice. I am well aware that for their joint 60th/65th celebrations the lunch was on them. The weekend turned out, for all three of us, to be quite wonderful. Even the train journey was enlivened by my completing the reading of 'Wise Children', Angela Carter's novel, celebrated in my last entry.

Our first entertainment was the Lord Mayor's Show. Any worries about a smooth RV evaporated as soon as I walked through St. Paul's churchyard and saw Lorna. Lined up with the crowds at the side of the road, waiting for the bands and floats, I felt as if transported to Leigh Broadway, opposite Hawken's shop, waiting for Captain Barton, the Fire Engine, the Kursaal Flyer and all the other regulars of Southend Carnival in the 1950s. The mass of local, commercial and 'community' entries were sandwiched between the elegant carriages of the City Livery Companies. The finest band was, of course, the RM Band from Dartmouth, and of the Carnival and School Bands the Bluecoats were the most impressive. Lorna, ever the celebrity spotter, was especially pleased to see Peter Duncan, now Chief Scout, but perhaps the greatest daredevil ever to front Blue Peter. The George in Southwark was the lunch venue. The surroundings so simple and homely, - plaster, wood and the blacked iron around the fireplace - as 'basic' as the Public Bar of the Crooked Billet in the early 60s.

It was quite wonderful talking to Olly, over a coffee, after the Parade. He is so optimistic and confident. As the morning's procession had been redolent of Southend Carnival, so Olly's ambitions and plans were redolent of mine over 25 years ago. Both of us in the Forces; both doing musical gigs on the side. We both quite like the Forces and are well aware of all the benefits, financial as well as social. Freelance doings, however, become central. My own experience of ever declining fortunes leaves me with some foreboding for Olly. At least I can write with a full 'pros and cons' analysis of any decision he must make. Olly will, of course, make of my comments whatever he chooses. I can only communicate.

Olly went to Dover for the Dukies' Remembrance Day and L. T. and I went to the Coliseum to see Aida. Everything in the production worked beautifully; Radames sounded a little forced at first but soon warmed up. Aida's voice was mellifluous throughout. And as for the set and costumes; it was the triumphal puppet elephant that I rememeber most.

Even Sunday brought unexpected, and high quality, live entertainment. We watched the march past from the Cenotaph; we were standing near Big Ben as 11 o'clock sounded. Sunday Lunch at Covent Garden was not only the lovely grub ( swordfish, mash and beans); we had a powerful soprano singing operatic lollipops as well as a string quintet to entertain us.

Tea at Tariq's Club rounded off the weekend. The Civil Service Club was packed with old soldiers etc. who had been on parade in the morning. A walk to King's Cross and home on the train, tram and car brought a fabulous weekend to a close.

The first paragraph today was about 'to do' list. I must now assault mine and will report tomorrow on any progress.

Old Identities Revived

Two past lives have returned. I followed up an agency enquiry from a satisfied client from the last millennium. Hopefully a gig will result, as 'Spicy Advice' are just the ticket for a family house party in the weeks before Christmas. With all the waiting and wondering, and musicians holding one engagement while waiting for news from another, it was a reminder of why I am no longer an entertainment agent; that and the memory of isolation and no real money, never mind promise of a residual income.

Meanwhile, back in Josephus; there's nearly a quarter of Jewish Antiquities to go and Herod has already built the Temple.

It was heartening to know that the Brasserie in Kidderminster want the Gondoliers back for an Italian night next March. Fortunately I keep my voice in fairly regular exercise at Southwell.
Yesterday's Eng. Lit. lesson brought a pleasant surprise; an intro. by the students to a new (for me) author and book. Angela Carter's 'Wise Children' is a novel written as the memoirs of twin chorus dancers looking back on their 75 years from the perspective of 1989. The snatches of songs, the furnishings, the dress, and habits described from the 20s and 30s are redolent of the domestic backdrop of my 50s childhood.

Nan would sing 'See me Dance the Polka' , an early dance school favourite of the twins. One girl had a quickie with a free Pole. Mum married one. Went back today for salsa, complete with own sound system; a more formal, and more productive lesson than last week. Anna is superb as a demo. partner and deserved her round of applause. Last night's dancing at the 'Up and Down Under Bar' did not produce a better partner than Anna, though that balletic, flamboyant Chilean lady is most intriguing.

Now, before prep. for my birthday treat w/e (thanks Lorna and Tariq), must address myself to label printing and business card ordering, tray clearing, list making; or I really will be flat broke.

A Most Prosaic Day

A beautiful autumn day, and a reminder of how long a hill I have to climb with Telecom Plus. No Christmas Fairs booked as yet. No business card quotation from Prontaprint. Must keep scattering the seed. Some will no doubt germinate; it certainly has for many (albeit a minority) who now reap rich harvests.

Still a quarter of Josephus' 'Antiquities' to read and we've already reached King Herod. A horrible world of schemers and power crazy politicians, warriors and murderers is described; I cannot keep track of all the machinations. It is intriguing, however, to see Antony and Cleopatra playing such large roles here, when they never appear in the Bible.

To Bilborough tomorrow pm. Some human contact will be welcome. I will tackle 'Paradise Delayed' after receiving at least Peter Lawley's feedback on the complete work. He has been most constructive so far; whether Ron or Helen, Marek or Olly will be forthcoming on more than Chapter One I do not know. At least I got through a pile of ironing today.

Afew Positive Things

Tango vocabulary of moves slowly increases. Am now sufficiently au fait with the 'Sandwich' the boleo, barrida and gancho. It is well worth the climb. Tango heights must be magnificent.

Was I the only viewer of the news to see the parallel between the Jehovah's Witness lady who died in childborth rather than receive a blood transfusion, and MI5's report that Al Quaedr recruitment of the very young in the UK has moved up a gear? Textual literalism is foul. If Judaism, Christianity and Islam all took their sacred texts really seriously, none would be a religion of peace.

I have made afew more moves with Telecom Plus and there's a couple more day's teaching at Biborough. This little piece is purely personal therapy. Had I not written this I would have presumed an all but empty day had drawn to a close. Ella had worked well for her guitar lesson too. May tomorrow be even more fruitful.

Placido Domingo

I will write now before going dancing; I'll be too tired later. Am continuing to read Josephus' Jewish Antiquities. It is so like the History Channel. There is copious detail on the century or two before the author's lifetime. From Antiochus' defilement of the Temple in 167BCE until the Temple's destruction in 70CE takes up more space than the whole of Jewish history from Adam till Antiochus. If there's records extant you can base your story on something. For TV there's few moving, talking pics of historical events before WW2. That's why Arthur Smith called the History Channel the Hitler Channel.

It (Josephus' Antiquities) is written, though, with the same tone throughout; a catalogue of power struggles, jealousy, conspiracy, great battles and massacres. 'Jewishness' seems to require nothing more than correct observance of a mass of peculiar rituals. The law must be observed to the letter to avoid God's wrath. That is the beginning and the end of Jewish morality. So much for those who would dismiss 'literalist' interpretations of sacred texts as a latterday 'fundamentalist' aberration. Josephus was a Biblical literalist.

I went to Calverton Car Boot in the morning, hoping to interest potential distributors in joining my team. (for details see www.telecomplus.org.uk/rowland ) A largesse of cards to stallholders may yield results. An e.mail from a charity/ community fundraiser prospect has just popped up. I thought, at the Car Boot, how horrified Gerrard Winstanley would have been; the Sabbath defiled by an orgy of Buying and Selling, the only capital offences in his 'New Law of Freedom' - Read 'Paradise Delayed' when it is published. All will be explained.

Opening Fanfare - Well, an opening.......

Hello Blogosphere and all its citizens.

This is the place where all my interests meet. Family and friends, yes, but also .....there will be more. The general impression will arise from the serial particular. Definition will, at length, be manifest.

That is all for today; save to say, that by the end of 2008 I will be a published writer, a capable tango dancer and will have secured, by other means, a small and growing residual income.

I will be back tomorrow, and most tomorrows thereafter.