I am off on an adventure tomorrow. My to-do list is detailed, with all kinds of minutely prescribed tasks in preparation. Tomorrow, before the sun gets up nevermind you, I’ll be on the road with nothing but a mug of coffee and my wits to keep me safe. And my car. And lots of cash. And a bag of clean clothes. And a laptop. But nothing else. A big box of CDs in the car too.
All this preparation is needed since I am crossing the border into the occupied territories of Norn Iron. The Queen can’t keep me out. Wife-unit is off to some high flying conference where friendless philosophers debate what it would be like to have friends hosted by the so-called Queen’s University of Belfast. I am her driver. It’ll be like that Britney Spears movie, except wife-unit’s Chinese philosopher colleague will probably struggle with the bit where we pole-dance for food money and then celebrate our victory by jumping up and down on beds in our underwear.
I am only interested in one symposioum and that’s about whether you can make friends over the internet. The only reason I am interested is because I am engaged in an ongoing dispute with all the brainiacs in Irish Christianity about the ethics of new technology. I better not share that with the contributors. “Hi. My name is Zoomtard. I am here to marshall ammo for an ongoing petty squabble I am energetically failing to win. Please only talk about things that will help me to score points”.
If any of you readers have good suggestions for how to spend time in Belfast, please do comment and share them with me. I was just planning on prayer-walking around the loyalist Proddie parts, asking the Holy Spirit to make the residents into real humans with souls.
I realise that might seem a bit extreme and a little offensive for people from that part of the world, but I’d like to remind you that you would see things differently if you were, you know, made in God’s image.
Seriously though, there must be something better to do than wander around the Christian bookshops asking them if they have any Deepak Chopra and reading in the Linen Hall library.
Your Correspondent, More intrepid than Dora