and another, and another, and then a smirk, and then a chuckle and then some rocking, shaking, shrieking and nearly falling on the floor. And then a desire to share the experience with others.
No, it's not a seventeenth century ecstatic cult, nor is it the Toronto Blessing, it's me laughing.
And the the latest prompts have been:
purgatorio
emergent see posters satirising the emerging church
the journalistic scrapings of Charlie Brooker, TV pundit (and now general columnist) for the Guardian. He is SO cutting and SO witty about the rubbish spewed out by the box that I should keep a copy of his writings nearby for whenever I feel tempted to watch some or feel slightly sad that we don't own one.
