What Exactly Is The Second Coming?

Many Christians believe Jesus will return to Earth in an event seen as the Second Coming. Strictly speaking, if the resurrection tale was to be believed it ought to be called The Third Coming, as his death on the cross made his return to life pre-Ascension the second coming. (the first being his life from birth (virginal or otherwise) up to his death by crucifixion).

Only the books of Luke and Acts describe the Ascension and promise of another return.  In Luke’s account, Jesus departs on the very same day as he is seen resurrected, barely having time to greet and meet the Apostles and few other witnesses who see him. In Acts, he hangs around for 40 Days before departing.

Statue of Christ – The Church Of the Holy Name, Manchester

Luke has Jesus tell the Apostles to wait in Jerusalem to receive the Holy spirit.  Acts has two angelic figures appear to those who see Jesus literally ascend (fly) off to Heaven like Superman, and these figures tell them that he will return the same way. There is much promise that the return is imminent, and likely to occur suddenly within the lifetime of the Apostles, and later believers in the return likewise believe that it could occur at any time and that they have to be ready. 2,000 plus years on, the promise of an imminent event is still evangelized. The rule for most Christians is to be a/. baptised, b/. believing in and loving Jesus. c/. have repented for all sins and transgressions up to the final breath breathed. Failure to do this before dying or the second coming commencing damns you to Hell.  I only qualify on a/. as I was raised Roman Catholic, but my atheism would mean I’m stuffed as far as b/. and c/. go if this Jesus was to show up. 

The question then is what exactly happens as and when Jesus  returns anyway. Some seem to believe that he will magic away all the World’s wrongs, poverty, war, famine, inhumanity, corruption in politics, heralding in a golden utopian age, though us unbelievers will be annihilated and excluded from the fun.

For others his arrival will instantly trigger the Apocalypse,  killing most of the life on Earth quickly,  allowing a rapture for a select few, but subjecting the rest of us to judgement at which we are directed into Heaven or Hell, or for the as yet undecided, an intermediary state of Purgatory. 

I am an atheistic secularist. I was secretary of the Manchester Humanist from 1992 to 2000.    I rejected my Catholicism when I was about ten.  I later got sucked into a Hinduism based cult in the early 80’s but escaped in 1985 and reverted to my Humanistic views.

Me with my Divine Light Mission Guru’s poster and a cults warning leaflet – taken by a reporter.

Other key religions don’t always believe in a Messianic arrival or direct intervention by their god(s).  Efforts to shoehorn in other religions is a sweeping generalization doomed to fail.  

The idea of depending by blind faith in a saviour simply arriving and sorting out the whole mess is rarely going to end well.  A pilot in a stricken plane might well pray to the deity or saints of his choice but not at the expense of pulling the throttle, drawing the plane to a lower altitude and calling ground control for advice and support. The blind hope of a hand coming down from  the sky to catch you and gently lower you to the ground is likely to end in painful or fatal disappointment. 

I’m not too familiar with the Jewish concept of Tilkkun Olam though it reads like ‘putting your own house in order’ rather than leaving it, or hoping it will be sorted by others.  There is a need to try to save yourself and help others in need. If a Messianic hero arrives to complete the task, bonus!  If your house is not on fire, get out and call the fire brigade,  but by all means try to throw a few buckets of water at the flames if safe to do so before the experts arrive too. 

Hinduism (known to me from my time in a Hindu cult), has its cycles of Karma,  life, and time itself reincarnates, and there are future chances.  The monotheistic faiths have a one shot and that’s your lot stance. That is why the arrival of a saviour figure coming at the 11th hour is more important to their doctrines.

With the Christian second coming, the Messiah was promised to be returning in the life times of the Apostles and other immediate followers, and it has been treated as imminent since.  The evangelicals have a rather hysterical cry of repent now, or it will be too late.  The question is a/.  how do they recognise the Messiah if and when he turns up? b/.  When should he come? c/. What happens when he does? What exactly is s/he going to do when turning up anyway? 

A/. If he literally descends from the sky like Superman with no way of the coverage being faked,  there would be little doubt even for dyed in the wool sceptics.  Having him simply starting a religious sect who say, this is He, and he just becomes another religious spokesperson.  Unless he throws miracles round like confetti he is likely to have a tough time convincing many that this is really it. 

b/. The date of his arrival is obviously a hot potato.  Many predicted/prophesised dates have passed with an embarrassing lack of divine activity.  The Millennium (2000) was a convenient round number favourite until it wasn’t.  Some believe he will come in our hour of greatest need, but the World Wars and even the Holocaust sparked no visible holy or godly intervention.  The horrors of the trenches created more atheism than the publication of The Origin Of The Species.   The shock reality of Belsen, Cambodia’s Killing Fields, Ethiopia’s famine, the Tsunami of 2004, the current wars in the Ukraine and Gaza, all legitimately lead many to ask why God isn’t helping those affected? It might be asked how such tragedies occur at all under the gaze of a God capable of creating a World free of such conflict and disaster.  The question amounts validly to ‘How bad does it have to get before God decides enough is enough, and calls a time out? The Jewish concept of Tilkkun Olam calls on the people to put their own house in order rather than depending on direct intervention from outside forces. If help comes, bonus, but best to act as if you are on your own.  If you are in a stricken plane, prayer that God saves you from a crash might bring comfort, but the important thing is that the pilot works the throttle, gains a lower safe altitude and contacts ground control for advice, permission for a landing and runway clearance. Better to call the police than just hope for Batman.

A joke goes that a devout religious chap is caught in a flood when a dam breaks.  He is on his roof seeing the waters rapidly rise and has a vision that God will save him.  Shortly afterwards, volunteers in a dinghy come and offer him a place in the boat. He declines the invitation as he is promised that God is coming to rescue him.  The boat crew save dozens of other grateful people.  The devout man similarly rejects aid from a small plane and a helicopter rescue squad.  He drowns. Arriving in Heaven he asks God why God didn’t rescue him as promised. God says, “But I sent a boat, a plane and a helicopter. Didn’t you see them?”   The moral is grab what help there is, don’t wait for someone or something not yet manifesting.  Believe God might come to help if you wish, but still behave as if he isn’t coming. 

The danger is that in not intervening to prevent the Holocaust, Jesus only returning when things get really awful, or some other messiah coming for the first time when things get ultra-extreme, suggests nukes have to start flying before the space wizard stages an intervention, but I doubt if that might happen even  though the mushroom clouds seem more and more increasingly horribly likely. 

Cemetery – Churchstretton

c/. What exactly happens when a/the Messiah arrives anyway?  

There seem to be two schools of thought on what the Messiah will do. 1/. He performs huge miracles to herald in a near instant utopian World of plenty free of war, famine, disease, death and Steps albums.  2/. He destroys the World with fire and armour plated locusts, and wipes out all but a chosen few raptured individuals (if that), and subjects the rest of us to Judgement, sending the worthy to Heaven and the rest to Hell, with no hope of parole.

Judgement Day is when Heaven is expected to open, with only a few saints, and prophets having been granted advance entry.  The Near death Experience visions of seeing a Heaven where already dead relatives and friends are already floating around happy is a contradiction to the way the New Testament says it will go. The dead just rot in their graves until woken up on Judgement Day.

If Revelation is right, The Second Coming is not something to look forward to if you like life. It amounts to death and a promise of a new beginning which will only be nice for those who believed in and loved God/Jesus. You can come in, but Mum and Aunt Mary have to burn forever, sorry.

God has form on this disgraceful behaviour. He has already wiped out most life on Earth in the Flood, and yet it is unclear just what triggered his genocidal sociopathy then, and why we haven’t yet matched that now. He trashed Sodom & Gomorrah for being evil places, so how much worse do Las Vegas and Blackpool have to get to match that level of depravity?

Blackpool Tower

The most likely explanation is simply that there won’t be a Messianic intervention at all.  Nature and human nature don’t work by the same rules and we ought to fix our own World as if God/s are not coming. For atheists like me, that is easier as we already fully expect no supernatural assistance in  our hours of need. Surgeons saved me from cancer. God if existing, would never have given me or anyone else cancer in the first place.  I won’t be waiting for the second coming, or the first one either. 

We do not need god(s) or religion to be moral or to desire or promote social reform. Pre-18th century, open declaration of secularist, atheistic, Humanistic beliefs could lead to the noose or the bonfire. It was the weakening of dogmatic blind faith by growing non-conformist and experimental churches and sects that paved the way for atheism/agnosticism and freethought.  By the 19th century, social reformers were increasingly secular. Bentham and Mill, the founders of Utilitarianism had little truck with religion-driven moralists.  They saw the human desire to avoid pain and move towards happiness as the mechanism behind moral behaviour. The Golden Rule of treating others as you would be treated yourself predates religion is quoted in numerous works secular and religious pre-Judaeo-Christianity.  Chartism and Marxism grew from class struggle. Feminism, anti-Apartheid, Pride movements, Anti-Fascist movements, etc, grew from good people seeing social injustice and getting together to counter-blast. Many Enlightenment philosophers, Thomas Paine, etc, all took a stand for change.  Others have long called for separation of church and state.

Sadly in the UK, media and political debates on issues like A woman’s right to choose abortion, voluntary euthanasia, race relations, immigration, etc, usually involve religious experts and often exclude secular thinkers who are perfectly capable of giving a damn and offering positive policies towards supporting such noble causes.

Religion  still has a strangle hold on us.  Schools still have to hold religious assemblies etc.  We can shake ourselves free from this. If not for George Holyoake we would not have the right to affirm, namely pledging to tell the truth in courts of law without placing our hands on a Bible to show our piety (which can so easily be faked).  We are capable of saving ourselves.  If Jesus turns up and helps out, yes, we should welcome the extra assistance, but we need to put our own mess right as if we have no back up, because throughout history, we have had to go it alone. 

Photos taken by me except where otherwise stated.

Arthur Chappell.

Narcissist Love Bombing Defined

Love Bombing is a term rooted in religious cults.  The Church Of Reverend Sung Myung Moon, known as the Moonies, practised what was also going on in many new religious movements but their members had a cynically coined name for the active recruitment technique, ‘Love Bombing’.  A newcomer to one of their meetings or church services will often be greeted by ever-smiling, ever cheery young people, have his or hand shaken vigorously and possibly even get hugged a lot.  The love and affection can get touchy-feely, overpowering and intense.  The newcomer’s story of how they came to the church will wow the listeners as will everything about the newcomer.  They will hear you first came in after meeting say John, or Jane. This will be treated quickly as very special.  John and Jane only know ‘the bestest people’, and they are great judges of character. You must be so privileged, charming and special. Everyone is thrilled to be in your presence. You can end up feeling like an A-List movie star surrounded by adoring fans, even though it is people who have literally only just discovered you even exist.  You’ll be asked about your life and work. If you have a job, it’ll be the bestest, and they may play on someone in the group doing or having done similar work. (it also gives them clues to your income that will help  them decide your true financial worth to the cult).  Your hobbies will be the best, whether you say you only watch football on TV or go out kite-surfing every weekend.  The love bombing saturates you in excessive often cloying flattery, and affection. They will fall over themselves to do you favours, buying you a beer, or a meal, carrying your luggage for you and if you don’t drive, they will go out of their way to give you a car ride home (which also lets them clock your address). Everyone is suddenly your new best friend. If they don’t see you for a few days they will say they really missed you and got worried you might not come back, or indicate distress that they somehow offended you. It’s all faked manufactured sincerity. This can be maintained over months.

Another side of it will be the confessional one, where members may see you as someone they can tell their troubles too; confiding in you about having taken drugs, feeling bad about a terminated pregnancy,  once self-harming or attempting suicide, though seeing the cult as having rescued them from all that.  

Their candid stories can make you open up to relate similar stories from your own past, recent or distant. This will move them to further hugs (and in some,but by no means all cults the flirting can extend to full on sexual intimacy though it remains all faked and controlling).  

Your confessed material is relayed covertly to cult elders, and can later be used to guilt trip you and in some cases even as outright blackmail material.  

The often glorious ego massaging honeymoon period that is love bombing wil stop, sometimes suddenly and brutally to be replaced with angry rebukes. You will be made to feel as if you have let everyone down after all the love and sacrifice and self-honesty they have shared.  You are then trapped in trying to recapture that magical love-atmosphere, and it will then be switched on and off like a tap, as a system of carrot-stick punishment and reward to engineer you to where they want to be. That is in a nutshell how many cults operate. 

A Narcissist love bombs in a similar way; they gain friends with flattery, affection, showering someone with gifts, putting you on a pedestal. A romance can be a whirlwind. Many (but certainly not all) love at first sight relationships are actually results of such control and love bombing. 

In a cult, a group controls the individual. The Narcissist flips that by being an individual who can love bomb a group, though with particular individuals singled out for more attention than others. He will become the life and soul of the party. He might use clever tricks, even actual magic conjuring tricks to get everyone watching him. He is a supremely cool dude, but a smooth talking con-man, the kind of guy who could sell you the Brooklyn Bridge. Suddenly, he owns the room. If he’s invited to parties, other friends will agree to attend on the promise that he is coming, and offers to show more of his clever tricks and offers generous gifts to some guests.  He necomes an indispensible assett, a selling point.

The Narc will quickly notice that some guests at the party seem less impressed by his hard sell self-promotion, the ones who see only a shady used car salesman selling a brightly striped sports car with a busted gear box. That person is then treated as the party-pooper, the one not getting, or in on the joke.  The rest of the group starts to ignore the individual, or even rebuke them. The Narc will play on this to the max.  The individual single out will be made to feel detached, secondary, or even full on excommunicated. It isn’t paranoia, as they are out to get you. It can fuel paranoia and suspicion though. A Narc gaslights, and makes you doubt your own sanity.  You don’t fit in, the group likes the narc and you don’t so you assume you are the one who is wrong and not fitting in is your fault. It’s actually your saving grace, not a fault. You are seeing through the scam. You know the emperor has no new shiny clothes, and that he is actually just naked.  

With a one to one relationship, the love bombing might be maintained right to the wedding, but the object of the narc’s control expresses doubts, disagreement, or shows a wish to do something other than the narc desires, the affection is withdrawn, replaced with silence or possibly some other punishment up to actual violence, but also with a sliding scale of name calling, blaming, guilt-tripping, insults, withdrawal of favours,  exposure to peer group pressure from others (the flying monkeys in particular), emotional blackmail, and a threat to separate or divorce entirely.  The Narc may well start love bombing others, sharing the affection once exclusively given to the partner he claimed he only had eyes for.  As the love bombing is withdrawn, it is replaced with a vacuum or with abuse, both of which amount to hate bombing which should be a cue to the victim to get out of there but the desire for a return to the happier times runs strong and other ties, through family, friends, finance, home ownership, children, etc and possibly threats of retribution, if not actual acts of retribution, can trap the victim for the long run, if not permanently or until pushed too far, they finally escape. The important thing is for you to get yourself out. You want to help the other victims but you can’t any more than you can get someone free from quicksand while you are also sinking into it.

Youtube – Narcissistic Love Bombing https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vKEjiyDivcc

Arthur Chappell   

Chesterfield Weekend – 23rd To 25th June 2023 

I travelled from Preston Lancashire to Chesterfield in Derbyshire for the 31st AGM of the Inn Sign Society, an organization for pub and inn sign collectors, of which I am proud to be a member.  

The Crooked Spire Of St Mary’s And All Saints – Chesterfield

I could have just gone to the meeting and come straight home but I decided to make a weekend of it to explore Chesterfield, get the pub signs there, and take in its other attractions and sights too. I was far from disappointed. 

With none of the train strikes that turned the previous year’s AGM trip (to Stratford On Avon, staying a living Hell Air-B & B in Coventry) this trip went remarkably smoothly.  I got a train easily (changing services in my old home city, Manchester) and got to Chesterfield about 12.30 pm.

I had about two and half hours to kill before my hotel check in, but my suitcase moved easily on casters, and I was travelling fairly light for once. The weather remained lovely all weekend.   

The Crooked Spire Of St Mary’s And All Saints – Chesterfield

The first thing I discover was that Chesterfield is a town where it is virtually impossible to get lost. The famous ‘crooked spire’ of Saint Mary’s is such a striking central landmark that everything radiates out round it and navigating round the town is absurdly easy.  

Winding Wheel Theatre – Chesterfield

I headed towards the spire, and took photos of several of the near 50 pubs I knew to exist in the town as I went, though many lack true inn signs. I also walked right by the Winding Wheel Theatre, (a former Odeon cinema used as a theatre and conference space) which was the venue for the AGM within ten minutes of getting off the train. 

Resting Devil sign – Chesterfield Arms

The origins of the twisting of the spire are unknown, and appear to be unintentional. It dates from 1362, and some indications are that it was too heavy, over-dependent on lead and warped by sunlight when being constructed by too few craftsmen, (labour was short at the time due to the ravages of the Black Death).  Local legend has it that the Devil, or one of his lesser demons was flying over Derbyshire and needed to take a rest. Landing on the spire, he realised that the holiness was burning into him and that he had inadvertently landed on a church. He tried to fly off, but tangled his long tail round the spire,crushing and warping it into its twisted pattern as it escaped. 

A pub, The Chesterfield Arms has its own Brewhouse called The Resting Devil in commemoration of the legend.  The town’s heraldic achievement, (the coat of arms), has the motto, ‘Aspire’, a lovely pun on The Spire which the town is justifiably extremely proud of. 

Heraldic Achievement for Chesterfield

Other claims to fame include the praised England goal-keeper Gordon Banks playing for Chesterfield, and being the hometown of George Stephenson, whose statue stands proudly in the railway station entrance.  

Statue of George Stephenson And The Rocket – Chesterfield Railway Station

As my hotel check in time arrived I headed to the Ibis, which again, proved easy to locate, though the roads immediately approaching the entrance are extremely dangerous to pedestrians. 

Checking in was swift and easy. They were happy to give me a ground floor room, which was great given my disabilities. Breakfast would cost a little extra but knowing there was a lunch available at the AGM is skipped that.  My room was fine, and very large.  

Sculpture, Ibis Hotel grounds – Chesterfield

 With a few society friends aso staying at the hotel, I arranged to meet with them in the evening (after more touring activity) and planned on having a few beers and a meal at The Riverside Inn. Though the food there looked nice we were very disappointed by the very poor selections of drinks so after chatting for a while we each headed off to our own adventures. 

Band at open air concert – Chesterfield

My journey led me to the main town market area where a large free open air Summer concert was going on (nothing on the scale  of the Glastonbury Festival running parallel to my weekend. As well as some fun bands and a very chill family friendly atmosphere, there were several open air beer stalls and street food traders. Some food stalls drew queues stretching to infinity, but I got a very nice burger served with jalapenos, and a pint amusingly called CSI Macclesfield.

CSI Macclesfield Beer Clip, pop up bar – Chesterfield

After this I explored a few more bars. Only The Market Pub proved disappointing as at that time I only had my bank card to make payments with and the pub had a strict cash only policy (unannounced until my pint was actually served).  After a few other pub calls I wrapped up the night in The Pig & Pump,  a very relaxed friendly bar providing great live entertainment. Singer Adam McCulloch seemed able to turn his hand to just about any song requested by the audience, which was pretty impressive.

Pub sign – The Market Pub – Chesterfield

Saturday 24th – AGM Day, so I did a little photo walk activity and headed to the Winding Wheel.  We had a very spacious room for the nicely prepared and chillaxed meeting, with tea, coffee and biscuits for early arrivals) and a room approached and left via a rather deadly step that tripped a few of us up and could do with a little ramp or slope. 

New Inn Sign Society logo

The meeting itself went quickly, including a moving moment of silence for a few members who have died since the 2022 event,  a look at the Society’s new logo, a much deserved presentation to committee member Iain Perks for his exceptional work for the society,  and all followed by a fabulous buffet, chance to chat with like-minded folk, and even a chance for me to sign copies of my own pub sign book. A few free books were also offered, and I got some to aid my own ongoing research. 

Cover to my book, Watch The Signs! Watch The Signs!

Post meeting, I pursued more pub signs and visited several more bars over the evening. 

The Neptune Ale Emporium sign – Chesterfield

Sunday 25th – I simply got up, finished packing, checked out of the hotel and headed for my train, only to find I had over an hour to wait for the first service out.  I just sat with a book to pass the time. 

Changing trains in Manchester, I found most of the platform seating was full, before seeing one chap had claimed a bench to himself and cluttered the rest of it with his luggage. I asked him if he could move some and let me sit down., He swore at me but threw his main bag on the ground and I was actually sadistically pleased to hear the crunching noises as something in it broke on him. Serves him right. 

Sign for The Hidden Knight (HK) – Chesterfield

The second train, and my bus home from Preston City Centre ran smoothly and I was home for about 1 PM.  

My thanks to everyone in the Inn Sign Society, the staff of the Ibis,the many lovely people I met on my meanders round Chesterfield, and its bars too.  

All photos taken by me 

Arthur Chappell.  

Links 

Chesterfield pubs Visited And Reviewed (those I went in for a beer) 

The Burlington – https://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/ShowUserReviews-g209967-d8483505-r898241563-The_Burlington-Chesterfield_Derbyshire_England.html

Chesterfield Ale House https://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/ShowUserReviews-g209967-d6871820-r898250411-Chesterfield_Alehouse_Micropub-Chesterfield_Derbyshire_England.html

Chesterfield Arms https://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/ShowUserReviews-g209967-d4042460-r898251902-Chesterfield_Arms-Chesterfield_Derbyshire_England.html

The Hidden Knight (HK) https://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/ShowUserReviews-g209967-d3570681-r898248101-The_Hidden_Knight-Chesterfield_Derbyshire_England.html 

The Market Pub https://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/ShowUserReviews-g209967-d2320416-r898245875-The_Market_Pub-Chesterfield_Derbyshire_England.html 

The Neptune Ale Emporium  https://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/ShowUserReviews-g209967-d8435379-r898252709-The_Neptune_Beer_Emporium-Chesterfield_Derbyshire_England.html 

The Pig And Pump https://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/ShowUserReviews-g209967-d15866599-r898249176-Pig_Pump-Chesterfield_Derbyshire_England.html

The Riverside https://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/ShowUserReviews-g209967-d15813840-r898303390-The_Riverside-Chesterfield_Derbyshire_England.html 

The Rutland https://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/ShowUserReviews-g209967-d3649222-r898246943-Rutland_Arms-Chesterfield_Derbyshire_England.html

Other links 

The Inn Sign Society https://www.innsignsociety.com/

My pub signs book – Watch The Signs! Watch The Signs! https://www.shorelineofinfinity.com/product/watch-the-signs-watch-the-signs/

My Accommodation – The Ibis Hotel  https://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/ShowUserReviews-g209967-d239751-r898258258-Ibis_Chesterfield_Centre-Chesterfield_Derbyshire_England.htm

Singer Adam McCulloch http://www.adammcculloch.co.uk

Events Review – Performance Walkabout Tour And Evening Shows Lancashire Fringe Arts Festival 21st May 2022

A lovely warm day punctuated by a light breeze and the perfect Summer atmosphere for an afternoon of multiple fringe arts events across the city. 

The day had started with a few children’s shows which I skipped with not having any kids though a few friends who did go along say they were really good events too. 

Morris dancers – Preston Bus station – taken by me

The opening event of the walkabout arts tour started at Preston’s controversial Brutalist architecture Bus Station, with the Stone the Crows & Brigante Border Morris dancers generating a real and anarchic feeling carnival atmosphere.  Surreally, there was also a couple dressed as human genitalia, a male phallus complete with testicles and a female vulva with a vagina, bringing quite startling wild comedy to proceedings. 

Genitalia – Preston Bus Station – taken by me

The whole group led the ever expanding audience to the square behind the main indoor market, where even the Wallace & Gromit statue was briefly decorated in Morris attire.  

Wallace turned Morris Dancer – Preston Market – taken by me

Things got very surreal here when two street preachers who stake a regular pitch to promote their evangelical brand of Christian missionary zeal, looked on the crowd as if we were there for them and spouted their call for our salvation oblivious of being surrounded by the embodiment of fornication (the genital suited couple) and morris dancers associated with pagan fertility dance rituals the preachers would regard as positively satanic). Already huge fun, the evangelists turned the event into priceless comedy gold without even being part of the festival. 

Aline Costa – taken by me

We moved down closer to The Market Tap Bar area for an astonishing dance routine, Aline Costa’s ‘Dance Was A Woman’s Face’. As her Edith Piaf music was playing faintly, it often seemed a silent routine as she Moved from seductive, slinky approach, to suddenly turning feral, menacing and shrieking like a banshee. She blew kisses to some, including me, but charged at others fiercely, almost like a tigress.  One lady standing near me actually fled in terror.  The switching ever unpredictable display of emotional gear change was stunningly well presented and Aline was not so much orchestrated by her music as orchestrating the audience, with a wry amusement at the effect she was having on everyone. 

Round next to Lowthian Street which is virtually a back alley passage leading from the market area to the Friargate area. In mid-alley, on the crumbling steps of a building’s back entrance, Miss Information (aka Jenny Wilson) was lip syncing to Gracie Fields’s Sally but shifted to singing it herself (and very well).  The state of the location used for the set caused the performer to lose one of her shoes to an uncovered grid hole in the masonry, though a member of the audience recovered it for her. 

Miss Information – Preston – taken by me

Miss Information might be described as Dame Edna Everidge on acid. Her performance was a purposely distorted skewiff slice of the history of Preston, so the founders of the Temperance Society became the Teetotal-itarians.  Miss Info gave out free Eccles cakes (I got some) and free badges (which I missed out on), and presented her Miss-tery lesson as a sermon, where we were to react to ‘Parched Peas Be With You’ with ‘And Also with you’, which was hilarious, especially having seen the real evangelists only about twenty minutes before. 

Phoebe Foxtrot – taken by me

The next performance station drew the event’s biggest crowd, as it took place on a pedestrianized area serving as a main entrance way to the St George’s Shopping Precinct, with The Robinson’s Black Horse pub on the other side.   Here, the very colourfully dressed and contagiously joyful Phoebe Foxtrot promised and delivered random compliments for strangers and all and sundry, showering the audience in confetti hearts.   Phoebe also introduced the young flashmobbing dance troupe from Preston’s Penwortham district, The Pauline Quirke Academy (PQA) who did a great set that really brought a smile to the shoppers stopping by to see so much happy energy in the heart of the city. The Morris dancers reprised their dance too which looked great on the mosaic circle art set in the paving of the pedestrianized zone. 

There was a short break before the closing features in the tour so I popped in The Black Horse for a swift beer break, and found that the Morris Dancers had the same idea, even giving a short impromptu improvised fiddle performance to the pub’s customers. 

Lancashire Students Jazz Orchestra vocalist – taken by me

On then to Winckley Square where the Fringe Festival shared space with the City Wide Jazz Festival where their Young Jazz In The Square set was just wrapping up with a lady giving a superb personalized performance of Amy Winehouse’s take on the song Valerie

IC THeatre players sword fight

Back then to the Fringe events and the Walkabout stage of the day closed with a trilogy of playlets loosely based on Grimm’s Fairy Tales performed by The IC Theatre.  The plays each had their own cast, and took place at different spaces around the gorgeous park. All the plays had common themes of relationships and nights out on the lash going wrong, often resulting in violence, death, and hauntings as well as interference by fairie entities. The cast really relished staging the fight scenes, one involving a well presented sword fight.  In another, children from the audience were given water pistols to use on one of the characters and did so with considerable enthusiasm for the task. One piece was narrated by a lady on tall kangaroo stilts.  In one, I was among the people randomly picked for marriage to one of the players (who called me Bob), but I was soon jilted for another suiter.  In another playlet, various audience members were entrusted with props for later use by the cast and I found myself holding a little guitar for a while.  The people given tree branches (the play piece was loosely based on the Grimm’s story The Juniper Tree) were left holding the branches even when the play ended, bringing the cast of each segment together for a song thanking everyone for coming to see them. 

That closed the walkabout portion of the day, but there were two further independent Fringe events to attend too, each conducted indoors at different locations. The first was to take place in a little theatre annexe at Plau Bar extension, Once Was Lost, off the lower end of Friargate. 

Here, story teller Oliver Lavery talked of the roots of story telling itself and even gave us an Innui creation myth. His presentation centred on the shared global oral story telling tradition of the use of Trickster gods and deities.  The talk was aptly called Trickster Makes This World

He touched on several myths, such as the Native American / Canadian tale of Crow, a shapeshifting bird entity who has discovered a feast in a beached rotting whale carcass.  When the body is discovered by villagers, who see it as potential food for the tribe, Crow takes on human form, and convinces them the blubber will poison them, while secretly sneaking out from the village to eat the whale meat himself.  When the tribe see the carcass is shrinking bit by bit, they investigate and see the stranger in their midst has crow’s feet in his moccasins and avenge themselves accordingly. 

Pub sign for Once Was Lost – taken by me

In another tale, from the Innui peoples, Wolverine (not the Marvel hero) leads a band of fellow creatures out across the waters that compose the whole known universe, convinced there might be land under the seas. After various furry critters try unsuccessfully to swim down to the sea bed the Muskrat succeeds and swallows all the land, and everything in creation (including KFC’s and Joni Mitchell LP’s as Olver says), but as he surfaces constipated with the whole of creation in his belly it is Wolverine who breathes into Muskrat’s mouth and literally blows the universe out of the creatures bum. 

There are numerous other trickster beings of course, most obviously Loki (again, forget Marvel), but also the cunning foxes of Aesop, Reynarde, Harlequin, etc.    Oliver touched on tales of Ananzi, The West African Spider God, a trickster who appears in the work of Neil Gaiman.  Oliver’s presentation was beautiful, funny and captivating. This event was way too short. I could have listened to this stuff all night. 

A short walk to the UCLAN university campus Media Factory building then for the closing event of an action crammed day. Free drinks and sweets were offered to attendees too which was awesome hospitality. 

Poster to Forty Minutes For 4o Years – taken by me

The performance was by Katherina Radeva and entitled 40 Minutes For Forty Years. It was a dance set with a background pre-recorded monologue (also performed by Katherina) giving a deeply moving and personal summary of her life and values.  As she danced and set out strips of tape on the floor space to create a huge snakes and ladders board grid pattern, the ups and downs of life, and moods, she told of her migrant status, heralding from Bulgaria, her struggle for acceptance and her love of dancing for the sheer joy and escapism of losing herself, her worries and depression, in the dance. She poured a great deal of energy into her dance, looking thoroughly exhausted to the close of an incredible roller coaster set, bringing a fantastic day to a close.  

I chatted with friends and audience members in the lobby area after the show, and we finished off more of the complimentary refreshments, before I headed off to relax for a few ales in a pub, The Friargate Tap,  before catching the bus home. 

Thanks to all the stunning performers, Lancashire Arts and Garry Cook for making so many events run with clockwork efficiency, even with unwitting intrusion by the evangelists which only helped make it all even more fun, the lovely friends old and new I met over the day, and the people of Preston in general. 

Youtube capture of the Morris Dancing at Preston Market https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GUDH4pt0Y7k 

Arthur Chappell

Publications Carrying My Writings

Publications Carrying My Work . (mostly along with work by other excellent authors)

Some website links may no longer operate as sites close down or relocate from time to time. 

A Chance To Dream – New Fiction 2001 SB ISBN 1 85929042 6

Book cover – Arthur Chappell – Brainwashed – (All images used here are taken by me)

A RAY OF LIGHT Anchor Books 2001 ISBN 1-86161-911-1

ABC Tales Online www.ABCtales.com

ACTIVITIES Bolton Institute Of Higher Education, 1990

Ale Of Two Cities – Manchester CAMRA real ale journal that carried some of my features. 

Anthology Series – Love Literally https://www.amazon.co.uk/Love-Literally-Collection-Stories-Anthology/dp/1520455771/ref=sr_1_4?dchild=1&keywords=Arthur+Chappell&qid=1629531564&s=books&sr=1-4

Anthology Series – Seasonal Shorts https://www.amazon.co.uk/Seasonal-Shorts-Anthology-Christmas-Stories/dp/

/ref=sr_1_5?dchild=1&keywords=Arthur+Chappell&qid=1629531564&s=books&sr=1-5

At The Sign Of …. Journal of the Inn Sign Society – Sometimes carries my photos and snippets of news. 

Bunbury Press – Creative Anthology – Carries some of my work.

Chappell, Arthur –  ATHEIST ESSAYS  Print: £8.80  Download: £1.88  http://www.lulu.com/content/1124882  A comprehensive collection of my atheistic and humanistic essays. 

Chappell, Arthur –  BABEL http://www.lulu.com/content/764029 £8.12  An apocalyptic novella, in the style of John Wyndham.

Chappell, Arthur –  BRAINWASHED! A CULT SURVIVOR’S TALE http://www.lulu.com/content/757452  £8.67 The full detailed story of my own experiences in the Divine Light Mission cult, several features on its leader, Guru Maharaji and a few essays on cults in general too.

Caught In The Net 1 / Caught In The Net 2  / Caught in The Net 3 

Chappell, Arthur, Academic Papers, Bolton Institute Chadwick Campus Chadwick Street , Bolton Lancs Desk Reference. 1/. Scientology Religious Cult Ethics 2/. Nilos Kazantzakis And The Last Temptation – A Gospel Contrast.

Chappell, Arthur BARD FOR LIFE CD Collection of Performance Poetry April 2001

Chappell, Arthur –  DANGER! VAMPIRE INFESTED QUICKSAND! http://www.lulu.com/content/763953   £7.85. Horror, science fiction and fantasy stories. 

Chappell, Arthur  – Deadline Looming  – Free Downloads https://everydayfiction.com/deadline-looming-by-arthur-chappell/

Fanzine covers – Fontzines

Chappell, Arthur –  DEATH ON DEANSGATE – THE ENGLISH CIVIL WAR IN MANCHESTER 1642 Print: £8.44 Download:  £2 .50 http://www.lulu.com/content/1034110 

Chappell, Arthur –  DREAMS AND SCREAMS£7.84 my third poetry collection. http://www.lulu.com/content/763976

Chappell, Arthur – Dreams Take Flight – self printed poetry and short story collection. 

Chappell, Arthur – The 5-7-5 Club  – Haiku Collection – Pronoun Press  https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B019CSDCJG/        

Chappell, Arthur –  FIFTY FILTHY FLASHERS £9.49 short erotic stories collection on sale at http://www.lulu.com/content/756889

Book cover – Jenni Doherti’s Wonderful World Of Worders –

Chappell, Arthur –  GIRLS IN WET CLOTHES  http://www.lulu.com/content/887972  Study of the wetlook fetish.  £7.10 

 Chappell, Arthur –  GM HUMANIST (Editor/Co_Editor) 1990 1999 Issues 2 to 35 many articles of mine within

 Chappell, Arthur –  ID CARD UK http://www.lulu.com/content/754662   £9.63.  My dark satirical short story science fiction. This is a collection of twenty-seven short Orwellian tales about a near future in which everyone carries biometric personal identity cards and people face continual disruptive surveillance and inspection.

Chappell, Arthur –  POETRY SLAMS – EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW! http://www.lulu.com/content/758000  £7.75 A history of poetry slams and the rules involved in competition level performance poetry.

Chappell, Arthur –  RED HOT TONGUES – TWISTED TALES OF EROTICA http://www.lulu.com/content/763998  £8.24 Very grown up stories. Adults only, please.gn Of…. Inn Sign Society journal, sometimes includes my photos and snippet features. 

 Chappell, Arthur WATCH THE SIGNS! WATCH THE SIGNS!  Shoreline Of Infinity 

Watch The Signs! Watch The Signs!

Chappell, Arthur  – Wendigo Water – Radio Drama Author, director, choreographer, cast member – https://www.mixcloud.com/arthurchappell/wendigo-water-a-horror-play-by-arthur-chappell/

Chappell, Arthur –  WHAT IS EVIL?  http://www.lulu.com/content/764044  £8.12 A Humanistic philosophical assessment of the nature of human evil.

Chappell, Arthur  – What’s The Frequency Arthur?  Kindle only http://www.amazon.com/Whats-Frequency-Arthur-Community-Broadcasts-ebook/dp/B00LEMDNCA

Chronos Books, (Dr. Who SF Fanzine) 1997 Issue One.

Cloudburst. Poetry Now 2001

Podio Magazine – Preston – Feature on my pub sign obsession

Club & Pub News 1078 9th June 1995

Jenni Doherty (editor) The Wonderful World Of Worders – Collection of flash fiction, includes about 12 by me)

Dreamberry Wine (Issue number required)

Dream Weavers Poetry Now October 31st 2001 ISBN 0754326624

DREAMS OF DARK FUTURES – A COLLECTION OF FUTUREVERSE Edited by Charles Lucien, 2001. Includes two of my SF related Haiku.

DREAMS TAKE FLIGHT April 16th 2003 Available directly from the author via www.arthurchappell.clara.net/dreamstakeflight.htm

Eastercon Newsletters  Various snippets, mentions, features and reviews at the science fiction conventions over many years. 

FONTZINE 3 2000 www.gavncal.demon.co.uk

FONTZINE 4 2001 www.gavncal.demon.co.uk

FONTZINE 5 2002 www.gavncal.demon.co.uk

FONTzine 6 April 2003 www.gavncal.demon.co.uk

FONTzine 7 April 2004 www.gavncal.demon.co.uk

FONTzine 8 April 2005 www.gavncal.demon.co.uk

The Force – Magazine from Margaret Ashton College 1986 – The first time my work appeared in print, with two short stories The Birthday Present and Brotherly Love included.  

HUMANIST NEWS (Later The Humanist)

Covers to The GM Humanist, which I edited and co-edited for a decade

INSPIRATIONS IN VERSE Anchor Books 2001 ISBN 1-85930-889-9

INTTERVENTI http://www.geocities.com/biennale2001/interventi.html

LATERAL MOVES 19 Aural Images 4th Open Poetry Competition Anthology 1997 ISSN 1360-3395

The Mammoth Book Of Erotica Volume 13 – The Too Beautiful Boy https://www.amazon.co.uk/Mammoth-Book-Best-Erotica-Books/dp/1472110862/ref=sr_1_16?dchild=1&keywords=mammoth+book+of+erotica&qid=1629531907&s=books&sr=1-16

MANCHESTER, A MAGICAL HISTORY TOUR TEC (Training & Enterprise Council) 1991

Matrix (BSFA Journal)

Mercurius Albanachus (Manus O’Cahan’s Regimente Newsletter) Various issues.

Mixcloud – Many of my North Manchester FM 106 FM radio broadcasts are preserved here https://www.mixcloud.com/arthurchappell/ 

My Heart You Hold Anchor Books Nov 2001.

Bard For Life audio CD of my poetry – cover art by Smuzz

ORDERS OF THE DAYE (Various Issues) -Sealed Knot www.sealedknot.org

PAGES (Online short story group linked to The Poetry Kit) http://www.geocities.com/pkpages/0002.htm

Passages – 1989 poetry collection written and co-edited by me with fellow students at Bolton Institute (Now Bolton University, with my first four poems appearing side by side. 

Philosophy Now Issue 20 Spring 1998

Poetry Kit (Online) http://www.geocities.com/Athens/Aegean/9952/poetry/pkpoetry.htm

Poetry Now North West Anthology 1998 ISBN 1-861-88-786-8

Poetry2poetry (Online collectors of (deliberately) bad verse http://poetry2poetry.homestead.com/valentine.html

http://poetry2poetry.homestead.com/shaggysnakestories.htmlShaggy

POET’S ENGLAND #18 LANCASHIRE Pentland Press 1995 ISBN 0-905074-91-5

POSITIVE THOUGHTS Anchor Books 1998 isbn 1-85930-681-0

Riding The Night MareAnchor Books anthology

Scarlet Magazine – Women’s erotica journal that carried two of my stories and an article during its short publication run.

Spell Casting Poetry Now 2001 0754326543/0754326551

TAG (Towpath Action Group) Newsletter giving a report on a canal walk I took with their members) 

The Infinitive Collection Anchor Press 1993 ISBN 1 85930 124 X

THE FORCE (Margaret Ashton College Student Magazine 1987

The Freethinker – Various Issues. 

The Skeptic – Various Issues. 

The Skeptical Intelligencer

The POETRY KIT LIST (ONLINE)

Twilight Times http://www.twilighttimes.com/poetry12.html

The Ugly Tree Poetry Magazine

Winter Verse Arrival Press 1992 ISBN 1 85786-086-

Riding The Night Mare – Anchor Books

Video Appearances 

Daily Motion – Brainwashed – The full talk I gave to a Humanist group on my cult experiences https://www.dailymotion.com/video/xl6sib 

YoutubesPoor Soul – My 5 minute horror movie, written by me and filmed by the Preston Movie Makers https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=48na6nXTqgM 

I appear in performance (and in some battle re-enactments) on various youtubes, collected together here https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLh9y-vskVaSknpr5usjLGyfhHvAlI0s_z 

The list is not complete. Many stories and poems went off to have a life of their own, and may have cropped up in print or publication without me knowing, and I have not received or kept hold of copies of some early work. 

If you have queries about these works or see my work in print elsewhere, do get in touch, Arthur Chappell 

Companion features My Publications – Currently Available Work – https://arthurchappell.wordpress.com/2021/08/21/my-publications-currently-available-work/ Much of my writing is no longer in print and very hard to get hold of, (even for me), but this is the list of work currently available. 

When My Mental Illness Really Started 

Given my run-in with bowel cancer at the height of the Covid lockdown, hospitalization through Xmas 2020 & New Year 2021, two life saving surgical operations, being saddled with a stoma bag, subjected to injections, transfusions, X-Rays, cat-scans, and a colonoscopy, among other treatments it is no real surprise that my stress levels have soared. 

One of the many District nurses who treated me daily from my release from hospital on January 18th 2021 to about mid-May noted on my records, ‘Arthur’s mental Heath has taken a battering to put it mildly’. 

Despite that, the DWP rejected my application for a PIP benefit, seeing my daily stoma care as a minor inconvenience. Though they don’t take any mental health issues into account in their assessment criteria, they reported that records of my mental health assessments say I am fine. This was news to me as I was never tested for exactly what my mental health status was, and they ignored the views given above from the district nurse. 

It is stated by the DWP that I take ‘no prescribed antidepressants’, as if this alone equals a bench mark for mental health concerns. Just because I’m not suicidal, self harming, or physically harming others does not mean I don’t have issues. I feel as though I’d have to actually be on the ledge threatening to jump to be taken seriously on this.

I feel pushed into deeper introspection than ever. I always felt no one should declare themselves mad or sane and the surest way to go crazy is self-analysis.  The old joke goes that the first sign of madness is having hairs growing on the palms of your hands. The second sign is examining the palms of your own hands, checking for hairs. 

I do have insomnia and much anxiety (the statements says I don’t seem anxious. Sorry if it doesn’t manifest too visibly or audibly).

My self-evident anxieties include 1/. perpetual fear of stoma leakage, splits and bursts. 2/. Fears others seeing the stoma or being aware of it will shun me and distance themselves from me. 3/. Fear of its visibility. 4/. Tendency to fidget the stoma and constantly check it for blockages, over-filling or pancaking (contents piling up in a small area rather than spreading evenly through the bag). 5/. Frustrations from ongoing Covid rulings that can impact my limited post-cancer activity. 6/. Worries about becoming a sufferer of invisible disabilities, and having to defend my position, (as I feel I am doing in getting this PIP application adequately (re)assessed. 7/. Financial worries, given my debts and uncertainty as to how the PIP award or lack of it will affect me. 8/. Despair at being ‘disabled’ at all. I have to keep reminding myself I’m not finished. 9/. Knowing there are still cancers in me, though dormant, including flakes on my Pancreas which I’m told could be untreatable if they become active, turns me into a walking time bomb, but somehow I am deemed totally unanxious about that. 10/. I have had to change many aspects of my lifestyle so I feel old and retired from much before my time. 11/. I’m left totally self-conscious, to some extent even self-loathing, highly self-pitying to the point of pathetic, low in self-esteem, sceptical, cynical and rather battle-hardened. If none of that counts as mental health concern, I’ll eat …. something generally regarded as not really good to eat.

The very worry that I might be mentally ill was helping make me feel more mentally ill. I contacted my doctor and requested a professional assessment, and got one.  The conclusion that I have High Anxiety levels and mild depression. 

I was assigned a counselor, who gives me fortnightly telephone consultations, and she has been very helpful and informative. Her methods involve ‘cognitive behavior techniques’. This largely involves studying sliding scale questions, such as ‘you need to get a refund for defective products you were sold. On a scale of 1 for mildly irritated to 10 for deeply distressed, where do you think you stand? I’d be about a 7 or 8 right now. 

Me with the shrine poster of my Guru and a cult warning leaflet – taken by a reporter

I asked my counselor for any recommended reading material I could look at and she kindly e-mailed me a reading list, from which I found a few relevant titles going cheap online. The first I read and worked through was Melanie Fennel’s The Overcoming Low-Self-Esteem Handbook, published just this year by Robinson books.

It is a very good book, that looks quite daunting at 466 pages, but much of it is blank pages to use for writing notes on the numerous exercises, and self assessments (which I do on notepads and my computer as I never defiance books by scrawling in them). 

One problem with the book is that it needs the user to evaluate their whole life. This opened up a whole new can of worms for me. Until now I saw my mental health as only destabilized because of my cancer and stoma treatment, as if I was coasting along fine before then and only peeping down the rabbit hole recently.  I now find I may have been off the rails much longer, if not for most of my life. I’ve gone from a recent crisis to the full Freudian messed up since childhood sense of my anxiety.  After all, I had insomnia from way before my cancer issues – it just got worse once I was diagnosed with bowel problems.

At school I was bullied a lot. I was told before going that being nice to others would spare me being on the sharp end of any such abuse but I found the bullies just liked duffing up the soft-touches and I was becoming a regular punch bag. It peaked in 1976 when one attacker slashed my face with a piece of broken glass from a milk bottle. He got arrested (suspended sentence, later enforced when he broke another kid’s arm).  I ended up with 18 stitches in my left cheek.  My house-master felt that aggression was good character building for the hard knocks we get later in life so bullies were often treated lightly and the weak kids like me were derided for being mard. I suspect many regarded me as gay for not being macho and assertive.  As I was such a magnet for the thugs  the house-master actually sent me to a child psychiatrist who interviewed me just once and threw me out, before openly criticising the school for wasting his time and burdening his case load by sending him every kid they couldn’t handle even when there was nothing too seriously wrong with us.  I felt liberated and rational for that assessment. 

My father’s young death, aged just 49, in 1978 was my next big blow. His instant coronary thrombosis death was compared to be shot in the heart at point bank range. He was in a cafe in Manchester on route to take money he’d collected on his (oh the irony) life-insurance salesman rounds, stood up to pay his food bill, and suddenly dropped as if fainting. Witnesses reckoned he was dead before he hit the floor. 

Me with my Dad – taken by my Mum

While he went with a fast painless death, my family was hit with slow-fuse pain. My education suffered. I was just starting to like school, as the bullies had left at 16 while I stayed on, but my Dad dying, just a month after his mother, shattered my concentration.  At home I was told I was ‘the man of the family’ now and had to look after my Mum & Sister.  I never cried at his funeral, though I wanted to and felt monstrous because my tears wouldn’t flow. I still hate myself over that. My sister was due to get married weeks after my dad’s funeral. It fell to me to give the bride away. I felt uncomfy in my dad’s shoes from the start. 

I failed most of my exams. I’d barely done any revision. I was just drifting from day to day. I became one of Thatcher’s three million unemployed. 

One of the few people I bonded with was my mum’s brother, who lived in our street, but after a blazing row with my Mum, (which was largely her fault) he disowned the whole family, moved out and never even came to his own parent’s funerals.

I was a bookworm all my life, escaping to quiet empty classrooms to read hid me from the ever prowling bully-wolf-packs and I became forgotten, anonymous, practically a playtime breaktime ghost, and long after leaving school (and in fact to this day) I was buying lots of second hand books. I developed a crush on one lady book-seller, and asked her for a date which she politely declined, but a while later she invited me out for a date, specifically to accompany her to a ‘lecture’ on meditation at Manchester’s University.   It proved to be a big-revival comeback (after a period of disgrace) recruitment event for a major religious cult, and she was one of its star-recruiters.  It would take me four and a half years to get out in 1985. 

Brainwashed! Mind-altered at the hands of others. The cult actually taught us to mistrust our own minds, because thinking would make us doubt the truths we felt.  The meditations were used to stop cognitive processes dead. Of course, thinking would make us see how crap the cult was and what a charlatan its leader was. My first full on real emotional and mental breakdown was not from the cancer, but induced deliberately in the early 80’s. 

The cult’s Manchester community was collapsing in in-fighting. Many left when I did, especially when they banned informal unofficial meetings in our own homes (always happier than the organized heavily regulated platform events). I drifted out and back a few times in the final year but finally walked for good after a final seeing of the Guru himself, and just feeling nothing whatsoever. I knew it was no longer for me. 

Once free I set about systematically doing everything they banned me from. I had no support as I was a rare beast in having escaped unassisted. Most ex-cutists got out with aid from family, mainstream church (big cults) organizations,  and deprogrammers. I had just gone cold turkey and I was suffering some flashbacks and catatonic states.  Sometimes I was so zombified that my Mum told me friends and family had visited but that I’d just sat there like a marble statue right through their time with me and only snapped out of it hours later. 

I started reading up books on psychology and philosophy, getting a lead on just how minds work. I wanted to kick start mine again. I did A Level sociology, psychology and economics before going to Bolton Institute Of Higher Education (now Bolton University) to do a BA in literature and philosophy.  

While there, a cult (not the one I’d been in) started recruiting on campus. I wrote a warning feature on cults and my own experiences for the college newspaper. It felt like coming out of a closet. It also made me a minor famous for 15 minutes celebrity as the popular press picked up my story and I ended up on a few TV & radio shows too.  

I saw my graduation with honours BA degree as a certificate of freedom, health and sanity though it did little for me in the job market. I’d gone from unqualified to over-qualified for many jobs though my creative writing was having some modest success.   

The next seismic shudders came from home.  My Mum remarried, actually to my deceased father’s younger brother. While Frank was a very nice man, I felt uneasy about their real life Gertrude & Claudius relationship though only because of how it had largely developed without me seeing it.  My cult time, college studies, regular warehouse work (which I gained eventually (and other activity had kept me out of the loop. At one point my Mum had faked my signature on an application for Summer work on a dire Devonshire holiday camp,  which gave me the job without even offering me an interview. She said she’d acted to get me work and get me away from the cult (which I was then still with), but it was actually to allow her to develop her relationship with Frank. It was from his dad, (my grandfather) that I learned about their affair, when he wrote to me during my time on the camp. 

I returned to feel my duty as the new male head of family was usurped though to be fair Frank was very much hen pecked in my mum’s matriarchal thrall anyway.  I found the family getting very controlling and manipulative, using peer group pressure to get what they wanted. My sister used her three sons as leverage on my doting Mum to get what she wanted, even threatening to take them away if she didn’t get her way.  The XTC song Only Making Plans For Nigel, with family and friends orchestrating his career in British Steel and deciding for him that he’ll be happy with it (the composer found such railroading went against his musical career ambitions)  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n-X3Wy-svIY reminds me how much my family and others have effectively planned and steered my life with peer group pressure and manipulation, and often resented it when my fierce independent obstinacy reasserts itself. It can shock many into wanting to avoid me completely, including as will be seen, some kinfolk. 

A friend came to see me a few months after my degree course ended, feeling quite troubled. My mum had asked him to check up on me and to advise me what to do in life, actually what my mum wanted for me, but he was told to present it all as if it was coming from him spontaneously. He told my mum he was uncomfortable about being a pawn in such machiavellian tactics and when he told me about it I had one of my most explosive angry outbursts with my Mum ever, and with Frank who tried defending her at first. I pointed out to my Mum that what she was doing to me was the same kind of behaviour that had driven her own brother, his wife and daughters out of the family. 

I had no such intent to lever power and no bargaining chips to do it with either.    When my nephews (my sister’s sons), started blatantly plundering my books, and DVD’s, openly boasting about what they had taken) my mum declined to help me recover my stuff (some needed for a paid writing project I ended up losing out on), and my sister refused to talk to me ever again when I challenged her over it, persuading her third husband, her sons and their partners to totally send me to Coventry too. My Mum and Frank talked with me but my sister met me with only stony silence. I was as estranged from my sister as my mum’s brother had declared himself from the family. 

After Frank died, my Mum’s health deteriorated and she had a severe heart attack that she amazingly survived, but my sister, a qualified nurse, became her carer, and largely cut me off from being able to help my mum at all when she could.  After giving me lifts to the hospital to visit my Mum there my sister failed to pick me up as promised one day and then told me she wasn’t my taxi service. I had to go by tram to see my mum after that. 

As my mum plans to sell her home, she felt I had to move out as selling with me as a sitting tenant would be near impossible. Though there seemed no hurry on this I started looking round for somewhere to live, but Manchester Council declared that while I still had a place at my mum’s, I was not a rehousing priority. They told me (on my early 50’s) to get myself evicted, end up on the streets for some unspecified time, and my housing needs would get a higher priority.  Despite this, my sister insisted that I wasn’t looking for a house at all, and pointed to the many properties for sale and rent (despite them being outside my price range and me being far down the council waiting lists). 

Friends saw my plight and stepped in to help. They had a place I could rent from them, but not in Manchester. I had to move to Preston.  Though I love my flat and the new city, I still feel like an exile from my city of birth too. My Mum has stayed loyal to me as a friend and mother – despite her controlling side she has the best intentions. She was shocked that my move was to Preston, not Prestwich (near to her Manchester home). 

In Preston, I found my independence and also started giving support to a university based mental health awareness group, as they found my cult experiences a worthy subject for the students on campus.  I found myself apologizing a lot for not actually being diagnosed with any mental health concerns. Little did I know what was hiding in Covid’s skirts waiting to pounce on me in 2020. 

So, from thinking I only cracked after cancer struck, I find my family rifts, shock from my dad’s death, cult time, and much more besides has been chipping away at my mental stability all my days. The cancer-related anxiety may well be the tip of a very big slippery slope on the tip of a very big iceberg. 

Arthur Chappell. 

Story – Mystic Doors 

I remember so little of my final moments. There was a little pain, and the sensation of someone clutching my hand. A woman’s voice assured me that our children would remember me with pride. Susan would name her son David in memory of me. A Doctor told them that there was not long to go now and that he would leave them alone with me until they called for him. There was weeping, but the voice grew faint, and soon, there was silence. A young man wept. My son. My son.  I tried to will myself to wake up, open my eyes for one last look, but it was hopeless. I was gone. 

A warm light, a sense of floating. This was the stuff I had read about as a near-death experience, but I knew that for me it wasn’t a near experience but the full on one way journey. I felt little if any fear. I had done nothing wicked in life, though I was getting worried about my lack of church attendance – any church for that matter.  

As I came through the light into the beyond I did not find floaty clouds, golden gates or a host of angelic figures, books of judgement or any other trappings from all the pre-death propaganda. I was in a well carpeted hotel corridor full of doorways. 

The closed doors were marked for each state of Heaven & Nirvana you could imagine. I was told that there was an appropriate Paradise for everyone, so whatever your faith, or belief, you could go into that realm for eternity. 

I asked the middle aged overweight plain tee-shirt and jeans wearing guide what there was to prevent me entering the wrong eternity. Surely there was no place for me in a Viking Valhalla or the Greek Fields Of Elysium. He shrugged almost indifferently, a hint that he was weary of answering the question for everyone coming his way.  “Nothing to stop you changing religions before you step through the door of your liking.”

“Am I able to change rooms later or try more than one before settling on a final choice?”

“Alas no. Once you go through a portal doorway you do not return, at least not this way.” 

“Do you ever enter any of the rooms yourself?”

“One day I will have to make the choice myself. I’m not immortal.  No one out here ever appears to be eternal.” 

He said that with no hint of sorrow. He just presented it as a cold hard fact. 

“What about evil-doers? Surely they must go to some kind of Hell?”

“If they want to. We have doors marked Hell, Hades, Sheol, Frigia, Hel, Limbo, Purgatory, and Oblivion, among many others.”

“Oblivion?” 

“Some atheists opt for that one.”

“So Hitler could pick any door he likes?”

“He did. He arrived here decades ago, right after his suicide. I believe he chose Heaven. One of my predecessors held the door open for him.” 

“And the people in charge of Heaven let him in?”

“If they dismissed or disposed of him it was through some other exit, not this one. No one ever returns this way. Now, which way would you like to go? I have many more people to usher through today so sady I can’t chat much longer.” 

I thought against Heaven on principle. No way was I sharing infinity with a dimension willing to accommodate Hitlers.

I spotted a door marked ‘Reincarnation’. A return to the realm of the living had some appeal. I made my preference known. “A popular destination,” my guide said, smiling wryly. “Bon Voyage.” 

I hoped to get a glimpse inside as the door opened but the instant he turned the handle and the portal-way was the slightest crack ajar a vacuum-like drag sucked me through, feet first.  I fell towards a vast darkness. As I looked up I saw equally naked figures falling through the other doors which sealed instantly behind them. Each body fell into the void too far from me to establish any communication with them. Any effort to talk, shout or scream was lost in the silent vacuum. 

Below me, an abyss. Above me, my mind and consciousness were separating and evaporating away.  I knew in that final instant that whatever door anyone chose or earned, or fell through, our fate was the same. There would be no clouds, harps, angelic hosts, endless flowing wine, seductive lovers of any gender, milk or honey. Then again, there was no pain, torment, fire or brimstone. The door marked oblivion was the most honest of the labels. I took some comfort and consolation in that. Somewhere in the void, all my old family, friends and enemies were dissipated or destined to rest too. I felt myself atomizing away, happily becoming one with the Univer…..

Arthur Chappell