Facial hair and knitting - before it began

Since I last updated you, I have nursed a beard, climbed the cultural ladder, aged by about 4 decades and had a thought about my future.

So what's with the beard you wonder? My friends and I went to see Harry Potter 7 pt 1 at midnight on Tuesday in Amsterdam and I decided to transform into the world's favourite half-giant Rubeus Hagrid. Apart from the beard protecting my face from the bitter cold, having a pillow up my t-shirt was probably the most beneficial nugget of costume I have ever sported, contributing to the most comfortable 3 hours in a cinema ever. That's right English suckers - Harry Potter came out in the Netherlands two whole days before the UK, in fact, we had the second soonest release date in the world; only coming after North Korea and Japan, but I figure that may have something to do with them being almost a day ahead due to time zones... Anyhow it was actually brilliant! Of course Daniel Radcliffe never fails to disappoint, but I sincerely enjoyed the film despite him and wasn't constantly comparing it with the book in my head, which I think can only be credit to the director.

My cultural metamorphosis took place as I watched Carmina Burana - my first opera! It amazes me how sound vibrations can make ones hairs stand on edge. If my existence has at times felt dull here in Holland, I was truly alive, as a full orchestra serenaded me into the depths of my imagination and onward to sophistication.

Which brings me to 2050! I've learnt to knit. I don't even care if it's what old people do. It's amazing and it's actually tres chic. Furthermore, it's so therapeutic, even if I haven't progressed beyond fraying patches yet, my new pursuit is laden with potential, which might end up as a stocking or even in yours this Christmas - watch out I might make some home-made pressies if my skill allows it.

As to thoughts about the future. I have been loosely toying with the prospect of a phD, having been enjoying my course so much. This week however, my tutor informed me of a funded position coming up next year at Leiden, that he thinks I'd be interested in/suited for. I actually think I might apply. The thought terrifies and excites me all at the same time - kind of like I felt about coming to Holland in the first place and yet here I sit... We'll see what God has in store.

Before I get ahead of myself I want to look back to where it all started, even before Holland I mean. Why do I attribute everything to God? Has it always been that way?

I’ve always believed in God. Maybe because I was taken to church with my family from the moment I popped out my mother’s womb, or maybe because as I observed the world I couldn’t but think it must have a purpose. However, that being said, any belief I had was vague and didn’t affect my life and it certainly wasn’t strong enough to make me view church-attendance as a worthwhile activity (or up and leave my country for that matter). I went to keep mum happy and make my life easier subsequently; but I was terrified that as the second-hand girl to the most popular girl in school, my reputation might fall from superficial glory to the status of bible-basher (the term knocking about on the playground of the early naughties).

When I was about 12 I remember having a discussion with my puppy-love about whether or not he believed in God. He said he did and described what his god would be like. I distinctly remember thinking that his god sounded nothing like mine and thinking that if there was a god, he couldn’t both be like his and my idea of him at the same time. Perhaps I was destined to be a philosophy student.

But it was to be two years later that I stopped theorizing about God and encountered him...