Tweeter

Liz & her Mum shop, whilst I try to occupy myself wandering round Birmingham. I have turned hanging around in coffee shops into an art form.

Birdy tweeter (being sold by the street sellers); marginally less annoying than the assorted street evangelists that appear to inhabit the Birmingham streets today. I appreciate their desire to spread the gospel and admire their courage in doing so; I'm just unsure if it's the most effective form of evangelism?

Especially when two miked-up preachers are standing less than one hundred metres apart; competing for attention, their words merging into just noise and occasionally feedback.

It's not just the Christians who are out in force (large Baptist contingent it appears), but the Muslims are also out (badly timed it could be said on the eve of 9/11), the Mormons and even the Hari Kristinas. Add to that the inevitable chuggers (charity muggers), collecting bank details & direct debits for Care, Save the Children and the NSPCC (three separate charities in one City on one day, overkill)

… and each of them catches me; the balisha-beacon that flashes above me that encourages every crack-pot, nut case, lunatic, fanatic or good deed doer to approach. I am tolerant, but it gradually evaporates. I just want to be left alone.

A new menace also prows our streets, the researcher.

“Hello Sir can I just ask you a few questions? Do you eat crisps?”

“No. My body is a temple and I only eat raw organic food that I have grown myself!” (that stumps 'em)

“Can I ask you how you reached Birmingham today?”

“Your guess is as good as mine; some bad decisions in my teens I suppose?”

If you complete their survey and you're lucky you get given a few sweets or are entered into a competition to win a holiday. Yes that was worth sacrificing half an hour of my time, five tubes of friggin' Smarties.

I always feared the Hari-Krishnas on my first encounters with as a teen; which is fairly ironic considering their gentle & peaceful nature. Being brought up in a Christian home we were taught to be wary of other beliefs, consequently I worried that Gouranga would be some kind of mystic spell and by saying it it would open the gates of Haides or invite a demon into my soul; but it's just a word (although not as good a word as marmalade)

"Say Gouranga and be happy".

"Say Titmouse and giggle like a school-girl"

"Say Bobble-hat (a very pleasing word) and chuckle"