So here we are - Thursday morning and it's dark as we load the car, gradually the mizzle retreats and by the time it is 9am we are set up.  The regulars are already sweeping the market - looking for the same bargains we turned down last week, and they move around the stalls with speed and determined deliberation.

Today I have secured the same space as I have used for the last three weeks - it seems to work for me and I'm getting to know fellow traders who are regulars and always here.  Which brings me to the next big decision - whether to go for a fixed and permanent market stall?

One gazebo was up, the second had arrived, as Friends of Spital Cemetery gathered and slowly and steadily more and more people arrived  and kept arriving.

This was our Remembrance Service - Spital-style to remember those who fought, died, survived and went through the trauma of war and conflict at home and abroad.

(This article first appeared in The Inquirer)

We arrrived early - not knowing the normal congregation and we're pleased to see a scatter of folks in the Chapel but as 10.30am approached still they kept coming and the entire place was abuzz with the air of anticipation.  As the punters packed into the pews, this felt like the opening night of a show, a concert - but in fact this was a multi-faith service Padiham-style.

Hosted by Unitarian Minister Rev Jim Corrigall and presented jointly by Rauf Bashir of the Free Spiritual Centre in Pendle, this was a colourful, warm, evocative service of music, song, sound and prayer.  Held on Sunday 24th September, this was a feast for any who felt hungry for good news and positive stories in the modern world.  This was a welcome collision of east and west, a positive smorgasbord of styles, tastes and forms.

The question every market trader dare not ask: will it rain? And this morning (whilst still dark) it was clear and almost warm. As we loaded the car to go to market the spitting mizzle started and by the time we had set up and prepare for the downpour - the clouds had passed and it was back to being nice again.

So whoever brought the threat of rain with them appears to have gone home and taken it back with them.  This is good.

Today is a big day in the world that is Chesterfield Market - there is a 1940's theme complete with vintage cars, numerous people in costume and appropriate dress and of course a full parked up replica Spitfire.  It's fair to say that the day is a real triumph.

The number of Stallholders is massively up and the foot-fall feels hugely increased with people - what is also clear is that people are not just Chessie folks, though they are here aplenty, but people have come  from further afield.

Not sure I thought this is what I would be writing about today - but here I am on Chesterfield Market as a stall holder.  It a mixture of bric a brac, books and political emphera with a bit of promo for a local campaign I'm working on to bring home to the town some medals from a Derbyshire solder of World War One.

But the bit that is most fascinating for me was my own nervousness and the opportunities for learning, trading and of course the ever-fascinating people watching.

What is the role of the speaker at a conference?  To reaffirm your knowledge or belief, to challenge and provoke, to humble and support your views or insights or just to make you squirm from your assumptions or comfort?  The last two days have achieved all of these, but today's Dr Ann Peart was the very best of all.

As she spoke I wanted to make notes, hear her treatise again, felt awkward at my assumptions and felt the need to act on what was said.  Theology from Women's Experience was a thoughtful, considered and provocative assessment of the development of notions of equality and inclusion. 

Almost as a parallel universe there is a troop of people who love history so much that they re-enact eras - Romans, Saxons and Normans, Medieval knights and of course the Napoleonic era. For many years my Dad (Adrian) in particular was a pikeman in Sir William Wallers Regimente of Foote, for the Roundhead Association, re-enacting fighting against the papist King Charles I as part of the English Civil War.

Looking back over the newspaper cuttings, muster requests and brochures that my Mum had faithfully stashed away and my wealth of memories comes rushing back. I even see that for 1977/78 and for 1978/97 I myself was also a paid up member of the Regimente. My Dad (a carpenter) got a lifetime membership for making Pikes for the whole Regimente.

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.

  1. Exploring home - #Foray3 into Derbyshire
  2. Exploring home - #Foray2 into Derbyshire
  3. Exploring home - #Foray1 into Derbyshire
  4. It's not all about Hadrian