Category Archives: religion

Religions Made Easy


Heaven is a bit like Yorkshire.

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In that, everyone wants to go there and each religion has its version of paradise.

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They just have different routes of getting there.

For example, if you were going to the splendiferous Yorkshire Dales from London, you’d go straight up the M1.

Likewise, if you were heading over from Manchester, you’d nip over the Pennines on the eastbound M62.

But, if someone from London said to someone from Manchester, the best way to get to the Nirvana of the Yorkshire Moors, is to get on the M56 heading west, drive south down the M6 to London, then up the M1, (adding about 400 miles to the journey), you’d politely tell them that you knew a better way. A better way for you, that is.

Obviously, a Mancunian should be mindful of not advising a Londoner that the best way to the celestial magnificence of Whitby is to drive up the M6, then across on the M62. It’s just not in their best interests.

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So, whether you’re heading to the Valhalla of Yorkshire from Cornwall or Cockermouth, it doesn’t matter which route you take, so long as you get here eventually. You’re sure to get a warm welcome.

The journey will have been worth it.

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Oh, and by the way, I’m not religious, but I believe I’ll be going to the same place as you are. I just don’t know where that is. But I hope it’s like Yorkshire.

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Happy Eostre, Theresa May.


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Dear Theresa,

I am astonished as to why you would be “outraged” by Cadbury’s and the National Trust dropping the word “Easter” from its annual egg hunt.

As a vicar’s daughter, I would have thought, you of all people, would know that ‘Easter’ was appropriated by Christians from the Anglo-Saxon pagan festival of ‘Eostre’, sometimes known as ‘Ostara’.

Eostre is the German Goddess of fertility and is worshipped and celebrated at the time of the Spring Equinox to symbolise rebirth (of mother nature).Though, it is easy to see why Christians would steal this festival to mark the ressurection of Jesus Christ. (As they did with the Winter Solstice and Jesus’ birth.)

Of course, every God and Goddess needs a pet. Odin had a pair of ravens called Huginn and Muninn. Eostre was no different. She had a wittle, cutesy-wutesy bunny wabbit.

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But what about all the chocloate eggs I hear you bleat? What have they got to do with Jesus?

Absolutely nothing. Again, they are Eostre’s symbol of fertility and rebirth.

So, Theresa, next time you get the hump about a chocolate company ditching an irrelevant ‘Christian’ term from its promotion, I suggest you concentrate on more important things like selling Weapons of Mass Destruction to brutal dictatorships.

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The Gospel According to Dave.


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There’s been a lot of negativity flying about of late, what with the fat orange fella sticking his size nines in everything.

Protests, riots, building walls, burning bridges, immigration bans, failed black ops missions. There’s something new to roll your eyes at every day. It’s unsurprising then, that people all over the world are up in arms, (literally and metaphorically), by the Cheeto Chompin’ Chimp’s actions.

It’s not just affecting America. He’s threatening the stability of the entire globe.

With that in mind, I thought it about time we had a set of moral values to live by. Sort of a set of rules, or a code. Commandments, if you will. (I don’t know why anybody hasn’t thought of it before.)

So, here is The Gospel According to Dave.

There are 10 commandments with which to adhere.

First. Thou shalt not kill or hurt anyone.

This applies not just physically, but emotionally, psychologically or spiritually.

Two. Thou shalt not steal.

Actually, if you steal from someone you’re probably hurting them emotionally and psychologically, so I reckon it’s covered in the above.

New, number two. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s Merc. Or his gaff, or his 42″ plasma screen.

Come to think of it, if you’re envious about what someone else has  you’re only hurting yourself. So, scrub this one as well.

Numero dois. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s missus. (Or ‘mister’ depending on your sexual orientation.)

As above.

New, new, 2nd Commandment. Thou shalt not commit adultery.

Why? ‘Cause at least one of the triumvirate is undoubtedly going to get hurt. In all likelihood, all three of you will suffer at some stage. So, again, covered in number one.

Two, (again). Thou shalt not bear false witness.

E.g. Don’t be a lying little get. It’s bad for you and it’s bad for the person you’re lying about. And you invariably get caught out in the end. Number one probably covers this. (A fib is okay. Especially if it stops someone’s feelings getting hurt.)

Secondo.  Honour thy father and thy mother.

I reckon your mam would be well upset if she thought you didn’t love her. Having said that, it doesn’t give them the right to mistreat you either. So, as long as they abide by the first commandment, you should abide by it too… no wait, I think we can shoehorn this under number one.

Deux. Thou shalt keep the sabbath holy.

I’m all up for a day off work. Tough one this, as you don’t want to hurt God’s feelings. But, what with shops open 24/7 it’s tricky for some folks. They have to work when the boss tells them or lose their job. I reckon if you take at least one day off a week we should have a bit of wiggle room here. But, at the end of the day, (or week ha ha), it’s covered in the first commandment.

Numero Due. Thou shalt not take the Lord’s name in vain.

Jesus wept. Bit petty. Then again, if it hurts His feelings, I reckon you should abide by the first commandment and you should be okay.

Zwei. Thou shalt have no other God but me.

Wooooh, get you.

That’s Hindus screwed then.

Look, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass whether you’re a Christian, a Jew, a Muslim, a Hindu, a Sikh, a Buddhist or a follower of another religion. Heck, it doesn’t matter if you don’t believe in any of them. I’m sure, if you stick by the first principle every one should get along just fine.

So, just to recap, the First and only Commandment is: Thou shalt not kill or hurt anyone.

Subclause: either physically, emotionally, psychologically or spiritually.

Hang on a minute… I reckon we can shorten this a tad. I’m pretty sure that killing someone would involve hurting them a bit. Well, if not them, their family and friends, so we can delete that bit.

The Gospel According to Dave (second draft):

Thou shalt not hurt anyone*.

Or, as my mate Kev says – Don’t be a dick.

Oh, and if you’re wondering who the woman in the photo is, that’s my Auntie Mavis. She likes a drop of sherry at Christmas.

*Does not apply to Donald Trump.

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10 Orbits of the Sun – new short story.


Here’s a pretty short short story that I’ve been working on recently. I’d be interested in anyone’s thoughts. Good or bad. But mainly good.

(Sorry about all the photos – it’s the art director in me.)

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10 ORBITS OF THE SUN.

By David Milligan-Croft.

Something changes inside of you when you have a child. Obviously, things change inside of a woman, quite literally. But I’m talking about changing from a man’s point of view – philosophically.

Up until my late thirties, I never wanted kids. Why would I? They’d be a burden. I had a fabulous career, a few great friends, a fantastic salary and a tidy crash pad overlooking the lazy river.

Then, for reasons I don’t fully understand, I got all broody. And I just wanted a baby. Specifically, a baby girl. I don’t know why I wanted a girl. Perhaps I found the thought of a rambunctious boy quite off-putting.

It stands to reason that I had to find a suitable mother first, which took a little longer than I had hoped. Anyhow, I got my wish. And I was the proud father of little Tallulah. When I said that something changes inside of you, I meant that something changes chemically. Nothing else, nor anyone else, matters quite so much in the world. Every cell in your body is geared toward protecting this little being. It’s a love that’s hard to describe. You would do anything for your charge. Yes, even kill for them. Die for them. It’s quite primeval on one level. Yet deeply spiritual on another.

Sure, not all parents feel this way. And I’m not trying to say that I’m unique in feeling like this. Plenty of parents are doting and plenty are neglectful.

I watched my little girl flourish and blossom. She was a happy kid. Loved to read. Loved to write her own stories. She’d make little 8-page books and fill them with fairytales and drawings. She loved to ride her bike and occasionally we’d go to Ed’s farm and she’d ride Ruby, the chestnut brown mare. She didn’t care much for video games or TV either.

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I remember one time, when we were going for a drive in the desert in my old jalopy, she said: “Daddy, how far is it around the sun?”

“What? The Earth’s orbit?” I’d said.

“Yes.”

“About 585 million miles, give or take a couple of hundred thousand. Depends on the time of year.” I turned the volume down on the car stereo so I could hear my inquisitive daughter better.

“Why does it depend on the time of year?” she said, turning the volume back up again so she could hear the brashy pop song that was playing.

“Not hundred percent. Something to do with the ellipse of our orbit,” I tried to draw an ellipse in the dust on the dashboard. “And the tilt of the Earth’s axis.” Astronomy isn’t my strong point and I got the impression that Tallulah guessed I was busking a little.

Tallulah looked out of the passenger window from behind her sunglasses at the scorched desert dotted with parched brush and spindly shrubs.

I stole a glance at the side of her pensive face, her golden hair was tantalising her cheeks. “Why d’you ask?”

“By my next birthday, I will have travelled 5.8 billion miles around the sun. Pretty amazing, huh?”

I pursed my lips. “When you look at it like that, kiddo, it is pretty amazing.”

“And that’s not including all the miles we’ve done down here on Earth,” she said wistfully.

I didn’t know how many miles we’d clocked up, and, in the great scheme of things, it probably wouldn’t affect Tallulah’s ‘orbital total’ very much. But it was still a significant amount for mere Earth dwellers.

I don’t know why this memory of my daughter springs to the forefront of my mind. Perhaps it is because it’s to do with heavenly bodies. The very fact that she came up with this concept amazed me. She could often be very abstract in her thinking. While other kids were ogling the shapes in clouds, Tallulah was busy calculating how far she’d travelled in the universe. I always imagined her growing up to be a great writer one day. Or maybe even a scientist.

Tallulah didn’t make it into double figures before she was taken from me. It was that God damned bike I’d bought for her ninth birthday. She was cycling home from school when a truck cut her up at some traffic lights. The driver said he didn’t see her coming up on the inside.

I’d always been uncomfortable with her riding to and from school. Not because she was a careless rider but because of careless drivers. However, her friends all did it, so she wanted to do it too. I guess I should have been a stronger father.

I was at work when it happened. I don’t know, but around the time of the accident, I recall being overwhelmed by a sense of grief. Like somehow I’d had this telepathic connection with her or something. Sounds ludicrous, I know. Though, I didn’t put it down to anything bad having befallen my little girl at the time.

I got a phone call from my distraught wife about an hour later. It was hard to make out what she was actually trying to tell me through her hysterical sobs. When the penny finally dropped, I felt the world disappear from beneath my feet and I was suddenly floating in a black void. I was dizzy. I felt my insides twitch and heave and I vomited over a glass case containing antique pistols. I think the customers must have thought I was hungover as they stared at me disdainfully and left the shop.

I closed the store and rushed to the hospital. But it was too late. The truck had already crushed the precious life out of her. Had the driver been there when I found out I imagine I would have killed him. Not that I would do that now, having had time to reflect on the incident. I know it was an accident. He didn’t mean to kill her. But he should’ve taken more care. Particularly at that time of day, being near a school and all.

I have never known grief like it. I don’t believe in heaven and hell.

This was hell.

The depths of Christian hell could not provide me with such torment. I went over all of the things that I might possibly have done for Tallulah not to have been at that particular spot at that particular moment in time. Not buying her the bike was top of the list. Her taking gymnastics class on a Tuesday instead of violin on a Wednesday was another. There were an infinite amount of possibilities. Of variables that would have put her at a different point in the universe. And I didn’t take any of them.

As you can imagine, my wife was inconsolable too. But I had to put on a more stoic face for everyone else: the police, doctors, funeral directors, family, friends. I know people mean well by wanting to offer their condolences, but the last thing we wanted to do at that time was talk to anybody. Shout – yes. Scream – definitely. Why? Why, Tallulah? What had she ever done to anybody? To me, it was further proof that there is no god. How could an all-powerful, loving deity let a beautifully perfect little girl be killed in such a horrific way?

That doesn’t mean that I don’t believe in some form of afterlife. Maybe there is, maybe there isn’t. Perhaps we’re reincarnated. Or, maybe we rise to a higher dimension. I once had the notion that the afterlife was an emotion rather than a place. Sort of like ecstasy or bliss. That one’s spirit melded back into the universe in a kind of eternal rapture. Most likely, there will be nothing. I don’t know. But it’s a chance I’m not prepared to take.

Of course, I haven’t discussed this with my wife. What would she say? She’d say I was being irrational. And I guess I was. No rational person decides to take their own life. She’d say I needed to see a doctor. That I was depressed. Not thinking straight. Get some pills. On the other hand, I could also see why my thinking was completely rational.

You know what I miss the most about Tallulah? It’s a sound. Specifically, a word. It’s a word I’ll never hear ever again: “Daddy!”

Like I said at the beginning – having a child changes you. You’d do anything to protect them. Why should my parental duties end in this life? Lots of religious people believe in heaven and hell. But they don’t think twice about giving up on their dead loved ones. If their faith was so resolute why wouldn’t they follow them to paradise?

Perhaps Tallulah and I will both spend eternity in black nothingness. In which case, it won’t matter a jot to either of us. But if there is something else, I’m certainly not going to let my beloved daughter wander the afterlife all by herself.

What kind of father would I be?

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Espe P.

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By the way, a few folk have asked me if these are photos of my kids. Just to reassure you – they’re not. When I’m working on a story I set up a Pinterest board for it. I put up pins of characters, locations, props etc to help me visualise my world. Admittedly, it’s a bit of a cheat to put them up on this post as I should let the story set the scene. However, like I said at the beginning – it’s the art director in me that can’t help putting some visuals in. Think of them as an extended front cover.

Addendum.

If you liked this story, why not read the whole collection, which is available on Amazon.

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