Heeeyyyy!! Here's the one Rob Draper did for me at Beyond Tellerrand!
It says "wash your hands" and is intended to be hung in the guest WC - I double checked that this wasn't insulting to his art, but he loved the idea :D
Linked pic alt: a tabletop has a dark piece of card on it, and a man's hands painting text with metallic paint in a graffiti style. The unfinished text read "wash your h"
Here's a nice conversation we were having while I was trying to come up with an idea for him to make up for me.
Alt: My wedding ring has the setup to a joke engraved inside it ("Drum kit falls off a cliff..."), in the photo he's seen peering at the ring trying to read it while I stand to one side.
Any tips for consoling a four year old who is suddenly very very upset about the idea of death and dying?
We're making it clear he's got a long long long time to be alive yet, as have we, while trying to be real and not tell any fairy stories - but he's very young of course and can't imagine ever being sort of "done" and really really doesn't want to ever die 😭
(Please nothing about climate change etc. in this situation - I'm well aware I've brought a child into a period of change that sucks.)
@sarajw similarly when we look out into space we see lots of dead stars - except to us they have not died, their light is still going and reaching new places and new things all the time. Of cause, photons and consciousness are probably very different things, but pretty much everything is just energy bouncing about. You might have guessed I don't understand all this stuff all that well - but that is where the comfort comes from - accepting there are amazing things that are beyond me
@scrwd I agree with your sentiments. Am 40 and as an ex-Christian I
don't believe in heaven any more - if I ever did - but I take comfort from all the weird and amazing stories you hear from people who have had near-death experiences.
I said (because he asked how dying feels) that some people who were rescued by doctors at the last minute saw a calm tunnel with light at the end and that they felt happy and free - but then he asked "does everyone get rescued by a doctor at the last minute?" 🫣
Little did I know having my youngest learn about Isambard Kingdom Brunel would lead to existential angst.
"Is Isambard alive?"
"No, he lived a long time ago."
"Why do people stop being alive? I don't want to be not alive!"
"When bodies get old and tired they don't work so well any more."
"You say you are old and tired a lot!!!"
"...
..I'm tired and grumpy but still very much alive, I promise. I have lots of years left. I'm ten times as old as you and will probably live for the same time again."
"Mama, why is he lying down?"
"Well he never really deserved to be standing, he was a rich, bad man who made his money moving people around the world where they were forced to be slaves."
Also Blessed Be Slavery ? (& tax-free property.) Ye Olde Church of England exploited chattel slavery on plantations owned by its missionary arm, The Society for the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts (SPG).
(on the mobile web I get an annoyingly oversized and intrusive "back to top" icon upon scrolling down on pages of https://dabristol.org.uk, so sorry if you do too)
I enjoyed giving a talk, dare I even say it'd be fun to do another one? I don't know what else to talk about though. Do ideas for talks just come, like blog posts? Or should I ask followers for what they'd like to hear about?
Personally, I find it odd that some people apply to speak at events with no idea what they will speak about, or ask people what they should speak about.
I've only ever done public speaking on a topic that I care about, know about, want to share with people, and think I can make entertaining in some way.
So, yeah, I submit talks when I have the ideas for them. And it's usually: I know lots about this interesting thing that an audience doesn’t!
@sarajw@christian
Opposite side of the country, Southend. They drive up and down the sea front, then "cruise" down the river and congregate in massive car parks till the police move them on and they cruise back to Southend, Rincewind and repeat.
Sara is beset by boxes. She fits them into each other like snug Russian dolls, compresses packaging as best she can, unfolds and flattens the boxes that allow for it.
She pauses. And sighs. She picks one up and walks with it into the utility room, adding a new Good Box to the now-teetering Good Box pile.
"But it is a good box. Might come in handy," she mutters to herself. One of those Good Boxes has a postage label on it from the 1990s. Good Box.