But why? I’m a somewhat curmudgeonly atheist, not generally given to joining in with  forced displays of jollity or sentimentalism. I usually watch what I eat and drink (well, I try to anyway). I’m, at best, indifferent to Cliff Richard. And I’m largely opposed to crass consumerism.

But Christmas is different. It’s a time for rule-breaking. Sure, I don’t normally have Baileys in my coffee – I don’t normally even drink coffee, but it’s Christmas, so it’s allowed. Mince pies for breakfast? Why not, it’s Christmas!

And there’s the nostalgia. It’s not nostalgia for my childhood. I was raised as a Jehovah’s Witness so I grew up without Christmas. (Cue violins.) Perhaps it’s nostalgia for a childhood I wish I had. A rose-tinted parallel universe where getting up on Christmas morning would mean presents and not a couple of hours of door-to-door preaching (yes, really!). Despite my unorthodox upbringing, my childhood Christmases still have some good memories. The Late Late Toy Show. The bumper edition of the RTÉ Guide (the only time of year my mother bought it), and the wealth of festive television and film premieres that it promised. The few presents that sneaked through from relatives or family friends, that were occasionally something other than socks. The regular getting together on Christmas Day and not celebrating Christmas with other Jehovah’s Witnesses, (sometimes including  a turkey dinner, Christmas pudding and charades). Going back to school in January and finding out what everyone got for Christmas (OK, that one wasn’t so much fun.)

And of course Christmas comes with its own prepackaged nostalgia, with equal measures of Victorian and baby-boomer ideals; a world of simpler times and forgotten values: all feasts, family and fun; layers of traditions, tropes and truisms churned over and renewed every December. Every Christmas film is the story of someone learning an important lesson and good triumphing over evil. No matter what, Christmas prevails. The miser becomes a philanthropist, the presents are delivered, the family is reunited, the town is saved. The good is found in every person and every situation. These are positive values to embrace, and Christmas is awash with them.

Now that I have a family, I find that traditions are important. If you don’t come with traditions, you learn to make your own, or they develop along the way. Buying a tree that’s probably too big for our living-room, and somehow getting it home and installed. Decorating it with our eclectic  and growing set of decorations, many of which have their own stories. Feeling smug that the lights are still working and not tangled. Choosing which version of A Christmas Carol to watch. Giggling inappropriately at the ‘dramatic’ scenes in EastEnders and being sternly hushed by my sisters as they wait with bated breath for the seasonal killing off of an Albert Square resident.  And now, more than anything, watching my son – and his cousins – opening presents on Christmas morning. I have developed a sort of anticipatory nostalgia for the future, for Christmas yet to come, for the milestones in my son’s life, marked in some way by whatever’s in the boxes under the tree.

Each Christmas marks a passing of the years; a point of certainty in an uncertain world; a time for redemption and improvement; a belief that, like in all those Christmas films, everything will work out right. So find whatever it is you have – or want – to celebrate. Call it whatever you want. Pick the traditions and values that work for you and discard those that don’t. And most of all, celebrate the light in a time of darkness.

Merry Christmas to one and all.

Regarding my New Year’s Revolutions for last year: Yeah, almost none of that happened. I ran 10km in under an hour (dressed in a Santa suit, no less) and wrote around 20,000 words all told. I don’t know how many books I read but it was certainly less than eighty. I still cannot drive and do not have a licence. I wisely refrained from making any resolutions this year.

The World Atheist Convention did have a third day that I never got round to writing about. PZ versus the Islamists, Maryam Namazie versus the Islamists,  lunch with Rebecca Watson the day after Elevatorgate, dinner with PZ Myers in Eddie Rocket’s, that sort of thing. It was a fun day. It might have been a good read.

I finished reading all the Booker Prize longlist before the award ceremony. I disagreed strongly with the shortlist but not with the eventual winner. I mostly found the whole experience an expensive way of quickly reading a lot of books I had little interest in. Not at all a bad experience but probably not something I’ll repeat (unless I become a Booker Prize judge, in which case I think it’s expected).

So what have I been up to? After several false starts, I am running on a regular basis and completed another 10km today (sans Santa suit, of course). I’ve been compiling and editing Atheist Ireland‘s weekly newsletter since January, and have begun writing a novel for which I’ve agreed a publishing deal.  (Of a sort. More on that later.) And of course I have a family (yay!) and a full-time job (boo!).

I turned 35 today (hence the mid-life crisis run and blog post), and I’m generally OK about it. I didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter. In the general spirit of self-improvement that tends to poke at me on such milestones I’ve decided that for each of the 60 months until I turn 40 (yikes!) I’ll try to develop one good habit, ditch a bad one and do a once-off thing that needs doing or should be done. I don’t think I have 60 bad habits or things that I need to do so I expect to be pretty much perfect somewhere in late 2013.

For June, I’m planning to write 300 words a day, give up watching random TV and, in a nod to the ever-looming spectre of maturity, complete a mortgage application.

Some of my writing may make it on to this blog so keep obsessively refreshing the page or just follow me on Twitter.

Mary Davis

A former PE teacher, Davis single-handedly organised the Special Olympics. She has cleverly deflected accusations of being a “Quango Queen” by repeatedly reminding everyone of her vast experience serving on unelected state bodies.

Chance of winning: Slimmer than her photoshopped election posters.

Seán Gallagher

A completely independent candidate with no party backing whatsoever, Gallagher spent three decades posing as a staunch Fianna Fáil supporter in order to learn their ways. He then jumped ship, abandoning all association with the party but taking with him their tried and tested methods of shady financial dealings and categorical denial of proven facts.

Chance of winning: Remarkably good, if he has managed to convince enough Fianna Fáil supporters that he’s one of them and enough of the rest of the electorate that he’s not.

Michael D. Higgins

While not the youngest or tallest candidate, Higgins has overcome his obvious physical disadvantages by shrewdly doing something none of the other candidates thought to do: namely, learning what the job of President actually involves and then, showing that he’d actually be quite good at that. His opponents have complained that the media give him an easy time just because he’s never been involved in any scandals.

Chance of winning: Will win unless the electorate are morons, so middling.

Martin McGuinness

Clean-living McGuinness does not smoke, has never touched alcohol and has not been convicted of transporting explosives and ammunition in nearly four decades. He separated from the IRA in 1974 although they have remained close friends ever since. He is unusual in that he wants to be president of a country he doesn’t recognise and won’t name. He has some relevant experience, currently serving as Deputy First Minister of another country he doesn’t recognise and won’t name.

Chance of winning: About the same as the chance of a united Ireland.

Gay Mitchell

Mitchell bravely ignored calls from other candidates to run a positive campaign and spent most of his alloted time during debates accusing Martin McGuinness of being a terrorist. He filled the rest of the time telling stories about his impoverished childhood. If elected president, Mitchell has vowed to do something about all the suicides somehow.

Chance of winning: Not good. Unpopular even in his own party, Mitchell has to rely on the “At least he’s not a terrorist or a nutter” vote.

David Norris

After entering, exiting and then dramatically entering again, Norris’s former partner was convicted of statutory rape. The ensuing scandal almost cost Norris the chance of a Presidential nomination.

Chance of winning: Not what it was. Would be better if he didn’t keep talking about underage sex.

Dana “Rosemary Scallon“

English-born American Dana is best known for a singing competition she won as a teenager.  In the 1980s she hosted a chat show on an obscure American cable TV channel. What more qualification does she need to be the president of a country she used to live near?

She has survived not only an attempt by the media to discredit her when they tried to find out what she was talking about when she insisted there was an attempt by the media to discredit her, but also an assassination attempt – dismissed by the anti-Dana establishment as a puncture.

Chance of winning: Has more chance of being the next Pope.

Those are your choices. Just be thankful our system of selecting candidates is so restrictive. But please, vote anyway, if only to make the volunteers at the polling stations feel useful.

There are also two referendums due to take place tomorrow but their content is a closely guarded secret.

But the important thing for now is that I completed the shortlist.

Half Blood Blues, Esi Edugyan’s tale of jazz musicians in Europe at the outbreak of World War II is a rich and complex story of love, friendship and betrayal. The narrator, now an old man slowly reveals the secret he has kept for decades (the framing narrative is set in 1992). A competent musician, his uncontrollable jealousy of his bandmate’s superior talent has far-reaching consequences. It’s a good story and a good novel, although, like its narrator, it falls just short of greatness.

Having read and reflected on the entire shortlist I would rank them as follows (from best to worst, or more accurately, from most to least fulfilling):

The Sisters Brothers by Patrick deWitt
The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes
Half Blood Blues by Esi Edugyan
Jamrach’s Menagerie by Carol Birch
Pigeon English by Stephen Kelman
Snowdrops by A.D. Miller

My expectation is that Julian Barnes will win, but if there’s to be an upset it should be deWitt who takes it. If Kelman or Miller wins, I’ll be aghast. I’ll post my thoughts here sometime after the ceremony on Tuesday as well as reviews of the other also-rans.

Related articles

• Julian Barnes, 5 others shortlisted for Booker (seattletimes.nwsource.com)
• What the Book?! (middleagedboy.wordpress.com)
• Two Debut Novelists on the 2011 Booker Shortlist (themillions.com)

Sue, who was sitting at the back of the stadium near the open window of a “projection room”, claimed she heard a man’s voice saying things which were then repeated by Sally. Her take was that Morgan had plants in the foyer listening to audience members share their stories, and then relaying them to her.

Another caller, sitting a few rows in front, confirmed her story.

Now this could well be the case. Many others who make a living pretending to be psychic have used this method. But I don’t think this particular fraud makes her fortune in quite that manner. Or at least not this time. Here’s why:

• The location is problematic. I can’t see any reason why the assistant would be at the back of the theatre on the fourth floor, as far away from the stage as he could be. It would make far more sense for him to be backstage, where the wireless link would undoubtedly work better and where there would be far less risk of detection.
• The information allegedly relayed was not particularly detailed or specific. A man named David, who had a bad back, and died suddenly. If I were a con artist like Sally Morgan, I’d be furious if that was the best my assistants could come up with. Any two-bit carnival cold-reader could come up with that on the spot.
• The information didn’t find a mark. Despite being about as broad as a statement can be, and with 2,000 people eager to swallow her lies, Morgan failed to find a match. This suggests that she was simply using the same easy methods beloved of shysters for centuries and “shotgunning” the audience with something that’s bound to apply to someone. If the staff had picked up some information from the audience, wouldn’t it have matched one of them?
• The management of the Grand Canal Theatre issued a statement identifying the two men who were speaking as lighting technicians in their employ, and naming them. Either this is true or they are going out of their way to embroil themselves in a potential scandal for no apparent reason.

So what do I think happened? How do I explain what “Sue” and “Dorrie” heard? Well, it’s notable that Dorrie initially thought she was hearing a heckler who was quickly silenced. She then only provided information that Sue had already given, and in fact, her recollection contradicted Sue on the point of the man’s accent (easily reconciled if there were two men speaking).

As for Sue, I think she was simply mistaken. She heard a voice (or voices), somewhat indistinctly and interpreted it after the fact to have been the same as what Morgan said moments later. Perhaps some long-dormant skeptical part of her brain was triggered and she recalled hearing about how other confidence tricksters would plant people in audiences, and then deduced that this was what must be happening. The people around her who seemed annoyed may have been annoyed merely at the distraction of people talking during the show.

Now I could be wrong. As well as cold reading, it’s certainly possible that Morgan uses other methods to trick grieving people into parting with their money. She may do research on recent murders in the area, knowing that some heartbroken relative will almost certainly turn up seeking solace. She may use information from ticket sales to do research on individual audience members or, as was alleged, plant eavesdroppers among the audience. But if she does, she’s doing it the hard way. Sally Morgan strikes me as a flamboyant phoney with a mediocre skill for cold-reading. Unfortunately, in the world of the “paranormal” that’s all it takes to become a star.

Related articles

• Sally Morgan reported as covertly receiving information on stage (stephenlaw.blogspot.com)
• How Sally Met Infamy: Psychic Sally Morgan Caught: or was she?

Image via Wikipedia

Boy, was I wrong! But not as wrong as the Man Booker Prize judges. Here’s the shortlist they’ve just announced:

The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes
Jamrach’s Menagerie by Carol Birch
The Sisters Brothers by Patrick deWitt
Half Blood Blues by Esi Edugyan
Pigeon English by Stephen Kelman
Snowdrops by A.D. Miller

Most notable: no Hollinghurst! What I thought was easily the best novel of those I’ve read so far didn’t make the cut. I’m delighted to see The Sisters Brothers there; it was a fun read and deserves to be recognised. Jamrach’s Menagerie too was enjoyable and is worthy of inclusion. I’ve recently started reading Half Blood Blues and so far it seems good. Pigeon English failed to impress me, and I’m surprised to see it there. It must have hit a chord with the judges that it failed to do with me. What really shocked me was the inclusion of Snowdrops. I really don’t get it. I thought it was dull, predictable and poorly written. I identified with the protagonist only to the extent that slogging through this least thrilling of thrillers felt like enduring an endless Russian winter.

Oddly, despite only having finished six books, I’ve read five of the shortlist and have already made a considerable dent in the remaining one. This makes the challenge of reading the shortlist trivial and I expect to have it done by the end of the week. The original challenge of completing the longlist now seems a little more daunting as there’s less incentive. I do intend to read them, though, if for no other reason than to find something worse than Snowdrops.

Related articles

• Booker prize shortlist 2011: who do you think will be on it? (guardian.co.uk)
• Man Booker shortlist: the verdict (telegraph.co.uk)
• Booker prize 2011 shortlist drops Hollinghurst in favour of first-timers (guardian.co.uk)
• Booker Prize rows and insults (telegraph.co.uk)

The Stranger’s Child by Alan Hollinghurst
The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes
On Canaan’s Side by Sebastian Barry

I think the above three are virtually certain to make the shortlist. I’m considerably less confident about the rest, especially as I haven’t read them all.

But I’m going to go for:

Jamrach’s Menagerie by Carol Birch
The Testament of Jessie Lamb by Jane Rogers
The Last Hundred Days by Patrick McGuinness

Related articles

• Booker prize shortlist 2011: who do you think will be on it? (guardian.co.uk)
• Booker shortlist to be announced (bbc.co.uk)

The Sisters Brothers by Canadian author Patrick deWitt,  is a western, darkly humorous in tone. The eponymous brothers are Charlie, who loves the violent life the brothers share as hired killers, and the narrator, Eli, who longs for a more peaceful existence. The novel follows what Eli hopes will be their last job. Often amusing, sometimes thrilling, occasionally moving, this is a solid novel and well worth a read.

Pigeon English is the tale of Harrison Opoku, an eleven-year-old Ghanaian boy, recently arrived in the UK, and his response to the violent murder of a boy from his school. Narrated by Harrison, its attempts to get inside the mind of a child didn’t quite work for me, the supporting characters sometimes seem stereotyped, while the parts narrated by a pigeon just came across as gimmicky. That said, it had its moments, and was ultimately quite touching, if a little depressing. A decent first-time novel, just not my thing.

Jamrach’s Menagerie is an old-fashioned adventure story. It’s Treasure Island and Moby Dick and any number of Dickens novels rolled into one.  The title is misleading: the menagerie is only briefly seen, and most of the story takes place on a whaling ship where the protagonist, young Jaffy Brown, is charged with bringing home a dragon. Constantly engaging, this is a real page-turner.

The Sense of an Ending is a slim but tightly written story of love and regret, memory and misunderstanding. Its narrator is contentedly average, retired and reconciled to the mistakes accumulated over his sixty years or so, until he receives a letter that brings to mind a pivotal series of events from his past. There’s a mystery but Tony is in no hurry to solve it, going about it largely with the methodical patience of a determined man with time on his hands. At a time in his life when he thought he had everything figured out he learns some uncomfortable truths about life and memory, and most of all, about himself.

One reviewer recommended reading it again with the benefit of knowing the revelation that comes on the final pages. I may allow myself that luxury some day.

Snowdrops by A.D. Miller was for me the only dud of the bunch so far. The tale of a British lawyer living in post-Soviet Russia who gets involved in something shady, it failed to get my interest. The author lived in Russia so he’s able to describe some of the quirks of Russian society as seen by an outsider, but that’s about it. The story is thin and the writing is average, sometimes even clumsy. I’m really not sure why it was nominated for such a prestigious award.

The Stranger’s Child by Alan Hollinghurst is the closest thing to a masterpiece among this eclectic bunch. A sweeping, ambitious tale of a family and a society in flux, it spans almost a century in the lives of the Sawle and Valance families. Each part begins after a jump of several years, or even decades and the author has fun with the disorientation that follows as the reader tries to work out who’s who and where the new characters fit in. The events he relates directly are mostly trivial; all the upheaval – births, marriages, deaths etc. – happens off-stage and is looked at only in reflection. The reader has to work to fit the pieces together, and Hollinghurst leaves things open, so that we, like the characters in the book, are never entirely sure of what has happened.

It is a very likely winner and I am absolutely certain it will be shortlisted. My guess is that The Sense of an Ending will join it, and possibly Jamrach’s Menagerie. I’d like to see The Sisters Brothers there too but I suspect it won’t make the cut.

Related articles

• Take a closer look at the longlist for the 2011 Man Booker Prize (booktopia.com.au)
• Man Booker Prize Longlist 2011 (lucybirdbooks.wordpress.com)
• Booker Prize pits tiny Highlands publisher against literary giants (independent.co.uk)

Despite my misgivings about Audible, I downloaded The Stranger’s Child by Alan Hollinghurst for free (as long as I remember to cancel my membership in time). I started listening and so far it seems promising. While I frequently listen to audiobooks, they are almost always non-fiction and usually books I have read before, so they don’t require my full attention. This epic multi-generational family drama probably will, and it remains to be seen whether I’ll truly be able to appreciate it in this format.

As I’ll be away next week and wanted to get started right away, I decided to buy some or all of the remaining books in e-book format. I have owned a Sony Reader for almost two years but had never purchased a book for it, and in fact had not used it at all since getting a smartphone last September. For those who haven’t used the Sony bookstore, it’s a little like an online version of the shop in Black Books, evidently run by drunken misanthropes who, though they may fling free but unwanted books in your general direction, will go to some length to avoid making a sale. After reinstalling software and lying about my location, I eventually managed to purchase and download a copy of Patrick deWitt’s darkly comic western The Sisters Brothers which I started reading last night. I’m enjoying it so far, and it has short chapters which somehow helps to fool my brain into reading more. I’m confident I can get through it quickly and will be downloading at least one more book today to ensure I don’t run out while on holiday.

I will post updates and reviews as appropriate.

Related articles

• Hooray for the bravest Booker longlist of all time! (telegraph.co.uk)
• 2011 Man Booker prize longlist announced (csmonitor.com)
• Man Booker Prize 2011: All the Booker Prize winners, and the 2011 longlist (guardian.co.uk)
• Man Booker Prize 2011: Alan Hollinghurst favourite to win (telegraph.co.uk)
• ArtsBeat: Man Booker Prize List Ranges Far and Wide (artsbeat.blogs.nytimes.com)
• Booker judge’s fears for reading in the age of Twitter (telegraph.co.uk)

Saturday’s afternoon session began with a panel entitled “Women Atheist Activists” although it was unclear whether that was to be the subject of the discussion or simply a description of the panelists. It seemed to serve as both.

Paula Kirby spoke first and made it clear that she was an atheist activist but not particularly active in the area of women’s rights and had never really experienced or noticed any sexism in the movement, so wasn’t really sure why she was there. I have to admit to being a little unsure myself. Kirby has plenty to offer but seemed to be on this panel only because she was a woman, ironically an apparent example of the kind of sexism she hasn’t noticed.

Bobbie Kirkhart also seemed a little unsure as to why she was there, or at least why Annie Laurie Gaylor wasn’t on the panel, citing her as the most qualified person to speak on the subject. She recounted something of the history of women in the atheist movement, noting that it was Madeleine Murray O’Hair who first brought the atheist movement to her attention and that many of the leaders of atheist groups have been women. She made what I thought was an interesting and worthwhile observation, that the way men and women typically run things is different. Men in authority seem happier to surround themselves with trusted advisers and to delegate responsibility as needed while women seem to need to be in charge of everything and are less likely to delegate. At its worst this leads to an “old boys network” in the case of the men, and a “mother hen syndrome” among the women. She argued that both approaches (in their less extreme forms) are valuable and necessary, and it’s important to figure out how to use the strengths of all our members.

Anne Marie Waters, like Paula Kirby, didn’t seem to think there was much of an issue to discuss. She didn’t like the idea that women were considered different to men, and argued that it’s irrelevant whether something is said or written by a man or a woman. While this is (mostly) true, it seems to miss the point somewhat.

Tanya Smith, who has just become president of the newly restructured Atheist Alliance International, noted that her own experience was one of overcoming her own insecurities, and that once she did so, she was able to make a positive contribution. She suggested that this was a typically female trait and that many women are held back by similar issues.

There was considerable audience participation and while the whole discussion was interesting, it felt as if it hadn’t really got to the heart of the issue, mostly because the panelists generally didn’t seem to think there was one. I have to note, too, that this was the only single-sex panel of the entire conference. As none of the panelists were particular experts on women’s issues I have to wonder how much thought went into selecting them. As a first approximation, selecting an all-female panel makes sense but after a little consideration I’m inclined to think that a male perspective would have been helpful too, or better still, that activists with strong views on the issue had been selected.

Meanwhile, Rebecca Watson could be seen quietly fuming towards the back of the room. We would find out exactly why later in the day.

Up next was a panel discussion on whether to accommodate or confront religion. Short answer: confront. Richard Green noted that “to accommodate religion is to abandon the advancement of atheism”.

There was a short break after this and as the Islamists at the convention had repeatedly pleaded with all attendees to engage with them, I strolled outside towards the stall they had set up a few metres away from the door of the hotel.

The stall included several DVDs and a book entitled The Man in The Red Underpants. I asked whether said man was supposed to be Mohammed but that didn’t go down too well. One of the men running the stall explained the conceit of the book by asking what I’d do if a man wearing nothing but red underpants knocked on my door in the middle of the night and said he’d come to read the gas meter. Would I let him in? Well, of course I wouldn’t, which was apparently the correct answer but I’m still unsure what he’s supposed to represent. (According to PZ Myers‘ withering review, he’s supposed to be a metaphor for science.) Ultimately and unsurprisingly, the book leads the reader to the conclusion that there is no god but Allah and Mohammed is his prophet.

I brought up the issue of women in Islam and told them that it seemed to me that the lot of women in Islamic countries is not a happy one, although I conceded that they could be smiling under their burqas. They explained that the verses in the Koran that authorise, indeed encourage,  Muslim men to beat their wives (such as Sura 4:34) don’t really mean that Muslim men should beat their wives. What they apparently mean is that in exceptional circumstances, if all other forms of discussion and rebuke have failed, they should tap their wives gently with a small stick. One of them – a white English convert to Islam – pulled from his jacket something called a miswaak which is a sort of toothbrush that would no doubt have been state of the art in 7th century Arabia. He confessed that he didn’t have a wife and that if he did he would never beat her, but if  he really had to, then he would only gently chastise her with his miswaak.

Tom Whipple and another conference attendee talking to Islamists (picture by Patrick Ffrench)

This begged the question of why the word used was invariably translated as “beat” or “scourge” but apparently there are nuances in the original Arabic that require a considerable amount of study to appreciate. I had to question why Allah was unable or unwilling to make his message clearer.

I also pointed out that even if this beating is only, as they claimed, a symbol, what it is symbolic of is male ownership of women, of a husband denigrating his wife as if she were beneath him, and that this in itself is absolutely wrong. They disagreed but didn’t make much of a case.

Most of all I urged them to stop worrying about whether atheists had the correct understanding of Sharia law, and to make sure Muslims do, because it is Muslims who are beating their wives and murdering their daughters and they are doing it in the name of Islam. They agreed that a lot of Muslims were interpreting the rules very differently to them, and that violence towards women is an issue among Muslims in the UK and elsewhere, and told me they also preach to Muslims. When I mentioned that it was also Muslims using the Islamic concept of jihad who were responsible for the murders of thousands of innocent people, they seemed oddly reluctant to agree, and one of them claimed he did not know whether any Muslims were involved in 9/11 . I mentioned the vast amounts of documentary evidence including admissions on video of known Muslims claiming responsibility for these acts in the name of Islam. The response: “Hollywood can do anything”. I did get one of them to admit that if Muslims were responsible for violent action against Western civilian targets then they were acting contrary to Sharia law as they understood it.

Despite their evasion the two men I spoke to were polite and friendly, in stark contrast to their leader Hamza Tzortzis’s rude and inaccurate tweets (and from what I’ve heard, his behaviour in person). They seemed less experienced and more honest than Hamza and I believe they genuinely thought they were doing us a service, while Hamza must have known that their mission was only for propaganda purposes.

Incidentally Tom Whipple of The Times was present for most or all of this exchange. It seems like the sort of thing he could have written about rather than lazily painting the event as merely a gathering of swooning Dawkins fanboys.

After the break was a panel on Communicating Atheism. Rebecca Watson was invited to speak first but would probably have done so regardless. She had a lot to say and as it’s now available on video I’ll let her do the talking. Her speech starts at around 2:20 in the video below:

While off-topic what she had to say was absolutely vital. Women really do have to face challenges that men do not and it’s crucial that we keep being reminded of this. It seems like not having Rebecca on the panel discussing women in atheism was a missed opportunity but it was great that she got a chance to relate her experiences and opinions anyway.

I had signed up for the optional dinner which was supposed to have one of the speakers at each table. Due to some sort of mix-up the table I sat at had none. I was initially quite annoyed at this, and got more annoyed as I had to wait an inordinate amount of time for a disappointing vegetarian alternative to the standard menu. (I get particularly grumpy when hungry). Nevertheless, I met several new and interesting people and my disappointment soon abated. Also, the dessert was pretty good.

After dinner, to the bar. Despite several valiant attempts to go to another pub I remained in the hotel bar, repeatedly striking up long and fascinating conversations with complete strangers from all over the world. By two in the morning my voice was reduced to a whisper and I stopped drinking beer and switched to water (almost unheard of for me). The indefatigable PZ Myers took his leave some time later, but I entertained no hopes of outlasting Rebecca Watson who was still in the bar when I dragged myself away at 3:30.

There was no possibility of my getting enough sleep but luckily Sunday was going to be a short day. Right?

Related articles

• A Gloriously Godless Weekend – Part 2 (middleagedboy.wordpress.com)
• A Gloriously Godless Weekend – Part 1 (middleagedboy.wordpress.com)