Yes, there's SEO and all that, and this is a blog post after all. But I'm much more interested in making eye contact with the person at the bus stop. So, whatever.

News stories and memories colliding around rollercoasters, circuses and empty church buildings. Outrageous, glorious, both?

The kinds of questions around mystery that end up drifting because they're not allowed to land — in this lifetime — without permission.

So, there's chips, and there's chips. Ask your great-grandparents, and then ask the nearest five-year-old. A crucial difference. Not just one.

Six months from now, on a dull day, when someone stumbles through the Stage Door into Chapter Seventeen, thinking — Where am I?

When I got a new mobile router, I was staring at Spicy Ginger Biscuits. The whole thing got me started on memories of 1980s Olympic-style evangelism. That's technology for you.

How can I say this loudly enough. There are sites that get the job done, and there are sites that don't think that was the point.

About the origins of the Chapter Seventeen experiment. It all comes down to hyperlinks, which, when you think about it, are the technological equivalent of walking through walls. Or something about an Ethiopian eunuch...

These things would only ever happen in church or in a crisis. (Like Tom Hanks with an ice skate — needs must. Sometimes. Other times it's inappropriate, dangerous, outrageous and misguided.) Hence my new fancy word, ship-wreck-less-ons. The kind of things any one of us might learn in Chapter Seventeen.

Doesn't everyone have two draining boards? No? Well, that's okay. Contemporary systems seem to flatten our natural urges. Hang on. That may be more important.

Taking something or someone seriously means not hoovering in front of the football, and saving their drafts from the bin. And other things I've learned.

The whole Chapter Seventeen-ness of things seems highly unlikely and yet thoroughly Biblical at the same time. All the more reason to head for the Stage Door.

My website looks quite standard until that menu item — Stage Door. It's what happens with a literary imagination birthed in Bible and Bagpuss.

Am I alone in finding everything I encounter brings up a thousand other things? Now apply that to reading the Bible. I know.

Just an average writing day, but genuinely finding my private thinking interrupted by questions about how that might seem if said aloud.