Looking around the conference, any conference you get a fascinating and insightful slice of your own questions - in this case questions that I myself at least struggle with.  Why am I so curious about the ministry of religion and its impact upon society?

For me the impact is the impact upon those I care about - the translation of laws, judgements and edicts upon life, fun, freedom and liberty - all within the welcome constraint of not harming others by your actions.

A short train journey - meeting a fellow Unitarian en route - and out of Leeds Station, past the Queens hotel and there, as I cross the road four elders of this place greet us - of whom the last is Joseph Priestley, of course.  And there across the main square sits Mill Hill Chapel - and what one rose and towered - now enclosed by the rise and growth of the city of Leeds.  

Indeed the sight of the contrasts of the modern glistening glass tower, of the legal firms and accountants that look jealously on the tombs, stained glass, faith and real estate that is Mill Hill Chapel.  Here is a Chapel that either lives on it mission or dryly regrets the lack of living residential community.

Okay okay I confess, I keep things, I hoard, I treasure and value things.  The extent of this is that since I was hooked to the game of Ice Hockey I have kept all of my programmes.

And yet right now I am sitting here in my front room with a signed Streatham Ice Hockey stick that has been taped with the Rainbow Tape that is supportive of the LGBTI community in sport.  I can't deny I'm slightly stunned by this - sport is not my forte, but advocacy is.  But due to one of my best mates, Edmund Heywood, I find myself passionate about a sport and indeed a sports team.  Since we went to the first match together, I have found myself rescheduling travel, indeed cancelling other activities, to be in Streatham, at the Ice Rink, cheering, screaming and shouting my Hockey team on.

This was all enough for me until it was suggested that the team, like others have in North America, take up the cause of Pride Tape.  Now Pride Tape is a simple device, built on the tradition of taping your stick before the match with a grip you prefer, but in this instance the Tape is in rainbow colours.

And so when the team skate out onto the ice - they do so to cheers and a throaty roar of support, but this week was different for me. First my bestie and I had done some work generating friends and family to attend and so we had some mates around, second was we had encouraged representatives from local public sector groups and LGBTI groups and third as the team swept out I was stunned.

My voice went dry, my eyes welled up and I my heart soared - there was my team.  Only this time it was my team through and through - Captain Adam Wood had lead the way and his stick was awash with tape and all others had followed suit.  

This week the team were mine to my core - this was a symbolic gesture that reached out beyond the team skills and into the teams attitude, their approach and their own value of their fans.  I was a fan who saw their messaging of rainbow tape and I felt valued beyond that I have ever felt in a sport. 

So Streatham, Adam Wood, Jeremy Cornish, the team, Carrsy I want to say thank you - it was symbolic and it was powerful and all those we had bought to see the match they loved it too.  But sly credit above all goes to team rock and drummer extraordinaire Dawn - it was only in the third period we saw her drumstick fully taped up - and I nudged my best mate Eddie and turning back to the game we cheered louder.

And for the rest of season and ongoing I will be encouraging, teasing, temping and dragging other LGBTI friends to come and see the team that has captured my imagination in the hope and aim that it will capture theirs.

It's a treat - a good old fashioned genuine medieval castle without the ruinous charm of Cromwellian destruction - this is a high rock outcrop with a superb surviving keep and a great defensive bailey. It sits above the Derbyshire village of Castleton (which boasts several worthwhile pubs and a new visitor centre), but more than anything else it sits atop Cavedale.

Now this week just gone in a determined sense of purpose we went a walked Cavedale itself.  A small narrow path through a deep sharp ravine it was one of the most interesting, invigorating and memorable walks I have done.  The rain was attempted to loose itself upon us as we started, the stones splashed bright with the waters of the night before. As we strode nervously forwards on the wetted and rounded stones, umbrellas in hand to act as walking sticks and supports, the waters of previous days rolled down under our feet.  In gentle terms we felt and commented that it was like climbing a waterfall ourselves.

I read somewhere that you never know a place until you have been in it in utter darkness.  It always seemed an extreme and threatening notion, until one night I walked along a beach in West Africa and bathed in the light of the cool moon and marvelled at the freedom and solitude.

 Yesterday, as our Heritage Open Day at Elder Yard Unitarian Chapel in Chesterfield came to an end, the fuse of a light blew and the chapel's natural light was heavily dimmed.  Far from being dark or threatening, we found it was suddenly deeply atmospheric.  Indeed, as I lit the two candles on the top altar at the top of the chapel, it felt warm, secure and enclosed.  The darkened light far from being chilled, acted as a cloak protecting those of us gathered in there.

#Derbyshire

It was not the most obvious weather - a gentle mizzle - but we resolved to walk regardless.  Indeed we have resolved to consciously get out of the house and walk and explore and discover and appreciate.  We don't know rural Derbyshire well and this summer has been a great revelation - heathers, rocks, scapes, walks, climbs, trees and waters that have been unappreciated by us.  The last few weeks and months have started our new education.

#Derbyshire

One of our interests are canals - in varying forms. Living on a canal is a treat and experience all of its own, a canal boat holiday is a relaxation rarely matched for speed and solitude, canal tow paths provide escape and retreat on foot and by bicycle and the associated fauna fills most crumble bowls for a weekend feast.

 But in all these forms - we find ourselves drawn to the inland waterways.  Their flat directive quality roots back to the period when Britain moved from a rural agrarian economy to a revolution to fuel an Empire - but they reflect a link with that past - pre-rail and roads and before noise and smoke dominated the sky-line.

#Derbyshire

It was vague and gently unplanned, but we found ourselves as hoped at Monsal Head overlooking the deep valley. The depth of the beauty matching the rise and fall of the valley sides - broad and welcoming at the basin, high sharp and deceptive at the top.

This was a place of views, of appreciation and of exploration. Tracing the slender path down from the head down to the feet where the water ran, past the tunnel, across the aqueduct, down the escarpment where the hawthorn grew wild freely and aplenty. Who knew, who knew indeed that fresh grown wooded green came in so many colours. As the clouds passed over and the shadows briefly bathed the trees so the health of this haven was evident and glorious.

#Derbyshire

So having parked, we walked a few yards, crossed the busy road and climbing over a short stile dived down into the wooded yonder. At first we had a steep stoned stepped descent towards a fast flowing stream - a small newly repaired bridge allowed access and then a steady upwards rise from the small valley.

The rock path hinted at the rock escarpment we were enjoying but the low close trees prevented us from seeing the view at first. Our legs were gently stroked with every pace by the fronds of the palm like leaves - but besides us as we walked also the strong purple thistles we have come to know well.

Just cos he didn't build it...

One of things that always gently worries me with history is our obsession with the start and the end. It extends across our lives, genealogy and indeed we then apply it to written and recorded history.  So let me take my pet project, interest and current research project The Gallic Empire.

This was a breakaway structured rebellion that covered modern day Britain, Spain, France, Belgium Holland and tracts of Germany and included parts of Italy and Switzerland.  So a pretty large undertaking.  So from 260AD to 274AD the Roman Empire as governed and administered from Rome and presided over by the Emperor was removed from the operations of these provinces and countries.  But reading the history books you would think nothing happened in northern Britain during this time - cos they didn't build anything that is directly recorded.

So that was Chesterfield Pride 2017 and so much to be pleased with.  Good crowd, great weather, fun, family friendly and from what I saw well supported.  The team that drive Pride led by Dan Walker are very unobtrusive and low key and deserve our thanks.  The finances are a total mystery to me as a punter, but incredibly it's a free attendance event and it's great fun.

Now I'm a bit of a hardened attendee of such things, London, Nottingham, Brighton, Manchester, Berlin, Barcelona and others - but this Pride stands up as an event and as something worth being at. 

Pride is London is too commercial - really? Pride is well resourced, marketing is at an astonishing level, London in the weeks running up to Pride is away with rainbows and public open gestures.

So what are the perceived problems?

So yesterday, 1st July 2017, on the 1900th anniversary of the commencement of Hadrian's Wall I travelled to Carlisle to see a special Turma: a modern reenactment of a Roman cavalry troop practising for war and conflict.

The event was magnificently supported by the Ermine Street Guard - the UK's premier Roman reenactment society and sticklers for historical accuracy.  Anything of which Prof Simon James of Leicester University is the President, and before him the late Peter Connolly, could not be anything else: accurate and tested.

I travel, I like travel, I have become a pretty good traveller. So much so, I. My own mind, that I have developed a dislike of tourism - I prefer the real, the raw, the natural - not just of nature but of people, lives and the built and developed environment.  I find the ancient history of Greece or Rome as vital and gripping as the modern emergence of Tel Aviv, Dubai and more.

Yet here I am in a seaside town - perhaps the illustration of what I might not like and I find myself charmed and enchanted by it.

The simplicity of a beach that is variously hot sand, wet pebbles, raining and misty through to burning and scorching.  A sweeping bay of guesthouses and bed and breakfasts that are punctuated by pubs, ice cream stores and chip shops.  A pier that feels past its prime and hosts a pub, a pizza house and of course a snooker hall.  A soaring cliff edge with a vinicular railway, a war memorial topped by winged victory set on the edge of a rugged medieval castle.

  1. My political birthday
  2. My modern chronicles of Prydain 3
  3. Everything is different and nothing has changed
  4. Thoughts about my homeland - postcard 1