What else to do on a Sunday Morning?

It was still quite early into their relationship. They were lying in bed one Sunday, enjoying that twilight zone – somewhere between asleep and awake, but not quite sure where. The radio was purring softly, then the midday News came on, and the newscaster’s voice roused them both. More bickering in Northern Ireland.

It was funny because Paul seemed to have all sorts of stories about Ireland, which contended with accepted knowledge. That there was not one Bloody Sunday (she had, of course, heard of the paratroopers in Derry), but three. That one of them was way back in 1920, British armoured cars had fired on spectators at a Gaelic football match in Dublin.

She could respond in kind, reciting atrocities committed by the Chinese, passed to her by her father but not widely known.

None of these stories tended to be in the history books, but, there again, who had written the history books?

for Fandango’s One Word Challenge (FOWC) of 6th August 2020, contentious.

I’ve written a background to these characters, in the posts below.


I’ve posted before on how I love the “international” nature of WordPress. This morning, in my reader, I saw a post from an Italian blogger I follow.

I don’t have Italian. A couple of French blogs, I can wing it – I’ll listen to the post and maybe pick up on 2/3 of it. I’ll miss the nuances but I will catch the overall drift. But Italian – I’m straight off to Google. It’s true that I now recognise a few words of Italian, purely courtesy of these bloggers, but certainly not enough to make sense of things.

This morning was a bit of a merry dance. My Italian friend, there was a tiny amount of text there, but all they were really doing was sharing another post. This post was in Spanish, although I caught references inside the post to the Middle East.

Let’s put to one side that some people are cheerfully speaking four or five different languages, while many of us struggle with just one. Suffice it to say that I am perpetually reminded of my own laziness when I read these posts.

Anyway, the dance was ultimately very rewarding. This post appeared to be by a Muslim feminist.

Think about that for a moment – it is not an oxymoron, despite what our media likes to tell us.

One of the things I pick up from our media is that Islam treats women as second-class citizens. While there seems to be an element of that, there are nevertheless Muslims out there who are just as outraged by this as I am.

I just find it encouraging that we take down the language barriers, we take down the religious barriers, and so many of us, worldwide, share the same values in life.


It seems a bit weird to be saying “congratulations” to anybody in the aftermath of Beiruit, but I have several real-life Jamaican friends, so this one is high on my radar. I’d like to wish any Jamaican readers a somewhat muted Happy Independence Day.

Jamaica gained independent from the UK on 6 August 1962.

I am not at all a flag-waver, and it seems fundamental to me that we should all be allowed to choose our destiny, so far as possible, and not have it determined for us.