Authors Electric

  Oysgeshsternt is a Yiddish word. It means crowded with stars. I heard it recently at the Purbeck International Chamber Music Festival as part of their Forgotten Voices programme. I love it – the programme and the word. We stayed on after the concerts had ended and had a few more days walking around various beautiful places in that part of Dorset, including the church at Moreton with its etched-glass windows by Whistler.   We’ve not been back home long, and I am spun out and all out of ideas, so having started with oysgeshsternt, I’ll go on with a theme of heavenly bodies and share some poems about the night sky and various planets. I’m not sure it fits with what Authors Electric is about, but it is the best I can do for now.  SKY-WATCHING   Out in the street as the evenings drew in that time between supper and bed, we lay flat on our backs, looking up at the sky,   naming constellations, tracking the moon from sickle blade to dinner plate, ...

Is this an odd topic for a blog? Probably. It's an attempt to look at the push-and-pull of churches/religion on me and my writing. I was brought up vaguely C of E but I’m ambivalent about the Church as an institution these days. I used to be sent to Sunday School as a child. What I remember most about it was that your team got points for everyone who attended so you’d be beaten up by your team-mates for not turning up. The church was a good mile-and-a-half from home and we would have walked in all weathers, so my attendance was erratic. My school started each day with a short service and hymns. Once, not long before Christmas, there was a decoration with holly and a candle in front of the Headmistress. It caught fire. We were supposed to be praying – ie with our eyes SHUT. Mine were open, O sin against the Holy Ghost, which is why I saw the thing going up in flames. What was I to do? If I shouted ‘Fire!’ I’d be caught out. If I didn’t, we could all be immolated. I took the...