>The Street Preacher

>I saw a street preacher in Birmingham the other day and the image of her has stuck with me. Not that I looked carefully. It was the day of the storm and I was hurrying to the station so I could be delayed there. She was much more in-yer-face that most preachers. She was walking in the road haranguing people at the bus stops. Hundreds of people paralysed into being her congregation by the discipline of the queue. There was talk of death and judgement. And I knew the script so I just kept on walking. But still she stays with me.

It’s her certainty. I don’t like it and I can’t relate to it (I find it – am finding it – difficult to write characters like that). My shrunken world is one of doubt (and sometimes fear). So I suppose there’s an envy as well – envy of that confidence. I need confidence now. I can’t write unless I believe (if only for a moment)*.

*(all these parentheses, qualification, corrections…)

For your diary: Details of the next Miniaturists‘ shows at the Arcola on Sunday January 28th here. I’ve not been before, but it sounds good.

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