In a parallel universe

I had been interviewed before, but never so satisfyingly as I was yesterday outside the library.

In the past I have been interviewed for a radio money programme, but they didn't use my name so the object, to embarass my deserving ex, failed.

I have appeared with a photograph in the Indy but, as that was to shame my medical insurers for no longer covering osteopathy for my bad back, being persuaded to include my photogenic Airedale in the picture (big dog, so obviously needing big amounts of exercise) was self-defeating.

I have a photograph somewhere taken by my father, of me and my mother on Bournemouth Pier, being interviewed by Chris Tarrant (Tarrant TV) and crew. I was in my best 1980s Laura Ashley, accompanying my mother in her best ("I'm saving it for my holidays") and then, as now, I was wearing a hat; then trying to get used to contact lenses in bright sun, now as protection for Lupus.

So I looked a fair target. Mother was ignoring the gleaming 'Mr Universe' posers in miniscule pouches, some sort of body beautiful festival parading on the pier (they did that then). I was ignoring them because I was with my mother and it would have been too complicated. Then Chris Tarrant turned up and asked what I thought of the posers, and I answered suitably primly. I was with my mother, father was not far behind and at that time I was married to a minor pillar of a little community. Then I noticed the crew were looking bored and Chris Tarrant wasn't making eye contact, so without missing a beat I said: "we-ell, that one's got a neat bum". They fell about laughing, it made it onto the tv programme, hubby was furious, believing he had a reputation to protect; however the tv programme was local, so mother was spared from being seen laughing (ee, our lass, what wur yu thinkin') on tv, back up north.

In a parallel universe there are teenage men who are clean cut, neatly and conservatively dressed, who speak in complete sentences in the right structure, unware of the relief that comes from a: "wtf ?!" occasionally said with feeling. They are Christian, they are inevitably Evangelists, and they are Male. Nothing wrong with any of those in isolation, but the combination is fatal to their Selves.

They are confident and unafraid of approaching a well dressed lady (its rare to see a hat in May) in a wheelchair, and haven't a f'ing clue what is about to hit their consciousness.

They are Nice Young Men, with a camcorder and a microphone, and are smiling at me winningly. Madam; (!) have you read 'The Da Vinci Code' (yes) and what do you think of it, have you read the New Testament, and have you seen Da Vinci's painting, do you consider yourself a Christian? (Not in one breath, but properly asked after each of my answers.)

Me: May I ask who you are ? We are Male Teenage Christian Evangelists. No, they didn't say that. We are from ..... church and we are researching peoples' views.

So this universe met theirs:

Me: (in a nutshell) Da Vinci knew many things and he knew what he was doing when he included a female amongst Christ's followers at the last supper; the New Testament was not written in English, but in Greek and translated, firstly into Latin then into English, by male translators at a time when society was not comfortable with women having equal status in any part of life, including the priesthood. That the early Christian church had female priests, who had equal status with male priests, and that around 500 AD for political reasons, history was re-written and it has taken 1,500 years for the Christian church to recover what it had lost. Yes, more of a Celtic Christian than an evangelising, or even active, Christian. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to share my views.

They went quietly, looking at each other, and THINKING.

A very satisfactory interview. I am happy to now retire from giving interviews.