I was standing around in Driffield today, waiting for the light – not the lights – to change, when a middle-aged guy sidled up to me and said “My, that’s a big camera”. People often see me, with my camera, and take the opportunity to chat about photography. That’s fine. But this guy changed tack, abruptly, after a couple of minutes, and tried to force some leaflets – about salvation – into my hand.
“I’m not a believer”, I said. “Where do you think I’ll go when I die?” He seemed reluctant to say, so I tried to help him out. “Am I going to hell?” He looked at me sadly and said “I’m afraid so… yes”. “So here you are, in Driffield, on a sunny afternoon, stopping a total stranger to tell him that he will suffer an eternity of conscious torment in the fires of hell merely because he doesn't subscribe to your religious fantasies?” After a couple more words, short and to the point, the conversation reached its predictable conclusion.
Licensed today: a portion of Cwmhir Abbey, in Abbey Cwmhir: one of the principality’s less impressive ruins…
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