'Fear not,' said the Angel...

It was a beautiful night with a New Moon in South Tawton, Devon, England. And the world was about to change forever…

An angel stood outside the magnificent 15th century granite and thatch, Church House, which has been at the heart of the South Tawton community for more than 500 years.

Okay, she was there a bit earlier than the moon because it's still daylight, but that was a lovely picture to start off with. And, anyway, she was deep in prayer before our story started, wondering exactly what words to use when she spoke to a young lady later that evening. Did you know that the most common phrase in the Bible is 'fear not?' There are 365 mentions of the phrase — one for every day of the year. So, the angel thought to herself, 'let's go with the flow. "Fear not" is as good as it gets.'

Now this was not just any old angel, it was the Archangel Gabriel, the messenger between God and humanity. Wisely, she went up the steps so she could be seen properly and checked her microphone before she delivered her message.

Below her, a young girl called Mary, was sweeping the porch together with two narrators. One was called Beth and the other was wearing reindeer horns. Those narrators got everywhere in those days.

Gabriel told Mary that she was very highly favoured and was going to have God's baby, whom she would call Jesus. Mary wasn't sure about that to start with because she wasn't married, but she was a brave girl and, let's face it, when an angel turns up, you tend to believe it. The 'fear not' bit certainly seemed to have worked.

There were lots of folks in Nazareth that evening so it's surprising they didn't see or hear the angel but God's good at keeping things secret when He needs to. The words 'secret' and 'sacred' come from the same root, which makes a lot of sense.

Ah! Hang on … all the people were there because the Emperor Augustus had turned up out of the blue. That's him in the lych gate in front of the church.

He told all the villagers that they would have to return to their home-towns in order for there to be a census so they could all be taxed correctly.  Emperor Augustus got a big boo and hiss from the crowd.

Mary's betrothed husband Joseph saw an angel too — in fact he saw at least two, one of whom was wearing tinsel — so he knew that it was all okay about Mary being pregnant. He saw some incredibly early Wise Men from the East too but he told them to go home because they'd got the timing wrong. But he said they'd be very welcome later, when the baby was born.

 Joseph and Mary had to go to Bethlehem, where Joseph's family came from for the census. Bethlehem was a long way away, and Mary was pregnant when they had to go, but luckily, there were some friendly shepherds nearby — and some friendly musicians too so people could sing along with the events as they unfolded — and the shepherds thought, 'She'll need a donkey to ride on!'

Incidentally, there's no mention of a donkey in the Nativity story in the Gospel of St. Luke. That bit, and the whole idea of the Nativity scene, complete with cattle and a donkey, was invented by St. Francis of Assisi in the twelfth century. Way-to-go St. Francis! It's been fun ever since.

So some pretty fierce negotiations went on over purchasing the donkey for Mary (the donkey's name is Nazareth which is an amazing coincidence, when you think about it). But the shepherds got a good deal in the end.

But Mary was a bit of a softy so she didn't ride the donkey after all. In fact, she got a nice lady to lead Nazareth all the way to Bethlehem. But there's no truth in the rumour about their driving there in a  Peugeot…

If you look closely, you can see that Mary took her broom with her, which actually turned out to be a very good idea.

After a long, long walk, they arrived in Bethlehem. But it was even fuller of people than South Tawton/Nazareth and they couldn't find anywhere to stay.

Okay, there might have been a Peugeot outside the Inn, but it belonged to the Landlord, not to Mary and Joseph, honest. And although the landlord at the Inn in Bethlehem is usually a bit of a baddie and turns the Holy Couple away, this time, the landlord — whose name was Tony — had a good reason to be full. His Inn was stuffed with Syrian refugees.

Still, he said they could sleep in the stable and gave them the keys. So Mary and Joseph went to the stable, which looked a bit like the altar at St. Andrew's…although that's obviously only a coincidence. And Mary was very grateful that she'd brought her broom because she could make sure the stable was clean and tidy for the baby to be born in.

 It's a good thing that it was a very large stable because lots and lots of people came along to see them and to sing about them. And the whole church sorry! stable was full of Christmas trees from the Christmas tree festival earlier that day so it looked just lovely.

You can't see it very well (because it was too dark for my camera) but the donkey's certainly there too on the right. And here's a bit of an innovation. The baby Jesus was born just as Mary and Joseph got to the altar sorry! STABLE and, instead of a manger, he's sleeping in a state-of-the-art baby stroller. Very sensible too because it's a genuine four-week-old baby in there and if Paul Seaton-Burn, the Rector, had tried to put him in a manger full of straw, you probably wouldn't have heard the congregation singing for the yelling of a baby covered in straw prickles.

Not all babies are as good as the baby Jesus. But then he did have swaddling bands so that would probably have protected him from the tickly straw.

Then lots more angels turned up — and a sheep. Which was fortunate because the shepherds came too, though I don't have a picture of that. And it was the very same shepherds who'd bought Mary the donkey so wasn't it nice that they got to see the baby? The Wise Men came back too with their lovely gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh.

And don't forget the Christmas chickens. They're in a cage to the left. But there definitely would have been chickens. And very well-behaved chickens they were too.

So it all ended very happily, and the people sang a few more songs, accompanied by the minstrels, and then there was tea and cake and mulled wine and mince pies in Church House and we all went home happily.

"About as Much Use as a Chocolate Teapot" — Exeter Christmas Market no. 2

So realistic!

Being a chocoholic, I've never quite understood that phrase. It might not do as a teapot but it's still chocolate and that's always useful.

Of course, it's the time of year for chocolate Santas, snowmen and reindeer — although the latter look rather worryingly like ear-amputated leftover chocolate bunny rabbits at Easter with different wrapping. We're fairly used to chocolate in odd shapes and sizes by now.

But a chocolate monkey wrench? A chocolate paintbrush? A chocolate slice of mousetrap cheese? A chocolate salami? Why? Why? Why?

I don't know why, but I know this stall from The Amazing Chocolate Workshop  stopped me in my tracks at Exeter Christmas market. It was almost impossible to believe that they were selling chocolate. Luckily, one of them gave me a morsel to prove it and it was delicious chocolate. Gluten-free, 65% delicious chocolate.

Oh, and if you look carefully at the picture above, you'll see they actually do sell chocolate teapots. Dammit, if I'd just noticed that when I was there, I'd have bought a couple of those. What a fabulous Christmas present!

I'm not sure whether they were doing a roaring trade because the chocolate spanners were stealing the show and there was a part of a few people's psyches going 'you'll hurt your teeth on those.' Quite how that works out when our teeth are quite happy to sink into a chocolate Santa, I don't know, but the brain is weird in its wiring until it's used to stuff.

But I do know that now I've looked at the pictures and had a browse on their website, I want to go back and buy stuff.

Unfortunately, they don't sell online yet, but there's a form on the site that you can fill in and they'll tell you when they do.

But if you're near Exeter and you're looking for a genuinely unusual chocolate Christmas present (and one for you too), you simply have to visit this stall.

Exeter Christmas Market (1)

Exeter Cathedral behind the market.

I only went into Exeter to get a late Advent calendar and some Christmas cards from the cathedral. Shopping per se wasn't on my mind but hanging out in St. Peter's is one of my favourite pastimes and any excuse will do. I've always loved their Christmas cards.

Not this year, however. Three really dull designs and not one Advent calendar left by 3rd December. But there was St. Gabriel's chapel to sit and pray in, as well as the lovely lady chapel and no visit to the cathedral is ever other than a delight.

Even better, a school choir was rehearsing I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day which, oddly, I'd never heard before and which took my breath away. You can listen to it here. Particularly apposite with the government's decision to bomb Syria.

And, all around the Cathedral, Exeter's Christmas Market glittered and assailed my senses. That was something else I'd not come across before, simply because we've only been here for three years and I managed to be sick at Christmas time for two of them. But oh, what a delight! I'm used to Birmingham's German Christmas Market but, frankly, this knocked that into a cocked hat.

I'll do a separate blog on a few more stalls including the aptly-named Amazing Chocolate Shop but here are some market photos and a few highlights. If you're anywhere in the area and can get down there, go, go, go!

Yummy non-seafood paella from Jences. Inspired me to go home and make more.

Don't go and look for Jences Paella on the internet however; their website has been compromised and I've just had a fun ten minutes comforting and reassuring my browser. It's nothing actually dangerous but I'm not risking it and I can't find a page for them on Facebook. So, it's the market or nothing for these guys right now which is a shame because the website says 'recipes' in the tabs and I'd sure like some of those.

Bush Farm Bison Centre's website is perfectly safe but ridiculously out-of-date (makes mine look efficient) so I've linked to their Facebook page instead. Not that that has a lot on it either. But they raise organic bison and elk and other tasty stuff and look like a fabulous place to visit. They have annual pow wows as well. The guys on the stall were really friendly and the meat both looked and smelt delicious. Unfortunately, I was already stuffed with paella.

Now this stuff, not even I can eat but it's a terrific idea even if it's not entirely photogenic and it's also a lousy photograph and I've cut someone in half. Devon Reclaimed is a company that beautifully restores all kinds of old, salvaged goods — mostly wooden and electrical stuff — and sells them. As well as the Christmas market, you can find them at Dartmouth Market on Fridays and Taunton Market on Saturdays during the winter months. 

This is just a picture of a sweater shop for Christmas. I didn't go in and I don't want one, thank you. Please, please don't get me a Christmas jumper.

To my shame, I can't remember the name of this stall but it's a lovely angel and what looks like a Santa with a serious hangover.

Weirdest — and Sweetest — Car Park Ever.

There was a time, and not so long ago either, when, if you were a vegan, you couldn't have the treats that the rest of us take for granted. Maybe that's what made so many vegans so cross with the rest of the world?

It's always interested me why those who care so much for the planet and its creatures are often willing to psychologically attack humans who don't share their beliefs. Obviously, they believe that we are all wrong but there are good ways and means of educating us and blaming and shaming isn't one of them.

I once had a former student tell me I was the personification of evil and she was recycling all my books because she had found out that I ate meat. She added that she would have burnt them but she was a good woman and wasn't going to add that pollution to the planet.

She may well have been a good woman although I'm always suspicious of those who actually tell me that, just as I'm suspicious of those who say 'I'm coming from the heart' which is so often egoic passive aggression for 'and you're not.'

I know she's right in a way — at least in that it would be better for the world if we ate much more vegetarian food and much less meat and I hope I'll get there in my own time. But not when I'm exposed to hatred. She was full of the Biblical commandment 'thou shalt not kill,' but what she didn't realise was that the Hebrew commandment is actually  'thou shalt not commit murder' — it's nearly always mistranslated — and to the mystic that includes psychological murder: the attacking and shaming of another.

And the world is changing. I am delighted to see that. Chocola Tree in Sedona is a herald of the (I'm sure gratefully received) New Age belief that it's okay to have yummy stuff including chocolate if you're vegan and wear purple clothes with too many buttons. Or even if you're not.

It's a fascinating rabbit-warren of a shop with fabulous ginger, lemon and honey lemonade, fresh juices and a delicious menu that's all vegan, gluten-free, organic or locally-sourced, GM-free — and it has a whole counter of chocolate. Have a look at their fabulous range of treats here. They made my mouth water.

Lion, who's an archetypical bloke and into his Sunday roast and sausages wasn't all that keen but I know that if I lived in Sedona, this would be my (alternative) coffee shop of choice.

Chocola Tree is  the kind of thing that's going to inspire people to change — it is filled with good feelings, good food and friendly staff.

They also have a very amusing, weird and loving car park. Here are some of the signs in it.








And finally, they sell tee-shirts with lovely life-affirming messages such as this:



You change the world with love, not hatred. You promote peace by being peace. Chocola Tree rocks!

Sedona 2015. No. 2. Horsin' Around on the Trail Ride

Riding Lady and John Wayne on the trail

The first thing I want to do every time I go to the States is go riding. There's something really special about riding Western-style that suits me. When I lived in Montana I had a friend who let me exercise his quarter horses anytime I wanted… Ah, bliss.

I've ridden regularly since I was nine years old so, when we headed for Sedona, I wanted to go riding but I didn't want just to trail along nose-to-tail on a bored horse with more than a dozen other people who'd rarely ridden before.

Here, I'd better specify for American readers that I'm referring to what you call 'horse-back riding.' Just 'riding' doesn't cut it over there and for some reason, even with the 'horse' bit added, you guys want to know which part of the horse you need to get onto. But I digress.

I went onto Trip Advisor's Sedona section and asked if anyone knew of anywhere which could help and got a bit of a flea in my ear from one contributor who wanted to know what was wrong with a nose-to-tail ride. Nothing; it just wasn't what I wanted.

The simple answer was 'no' because of all the insurance issues. I once read that riding a horse was statistically more dangerous than riding a motorbike and having fallen off more than seven times — the old statutory 'this is what makes you a horsewoman' amount — I rather concur. But I'm still addicted.

Riding Spuds the Quarter Horse in Montana in 1999.

The next step was to ask around on social media if anyone knew of someone with a horse in Sedona. I thought I'd hit gold almost at once with an offer to take me riding from a lady who worked at a stables who said it would be great to have someone to ride with for fun. But she didn't follow through. So, once we were there, I was looking to find a good ride.

…Which fell into my lap. 

I'll be writing more later on how we got to Sedona and where we were staying but, suffice it to say for the moment, we were staying in a friend's timeshare and, of course, the company running it was anxious to get fresh blood round the table for the big sell. They asked what Lion and I were interested in, we said 'horse riding' and they offered us a ride at a local stables for $73 total as opposed to $95 each if we would turn up for the presentation.

And that's a whole story in itself…

However, we said yes and were booked on a ride with Horsin' Around Adventures at Oak Creek, just down the road, the following Monday. Now I've looked through their website I know I'd have chosen them for myself, particularly for the aspect they offer of Premium Rides which are tailored for the rider's experience. So much for there not being any non nose-to-tail riding, Trip Advisor folk!

However, we were on a simple trail ride together as Lion's not anything like as experienced as I am and I thought it would be a good start as well as a great experience to ride together.

Luckily for us, after a few days of cold and wet, the Monday dawned brightly and we showed up at the Javelina Leap vineyard in Page Spring wine country, Oak Creek, about three miles from our apartment, to be picked up in a van and taken up the dust track to where the horses waited. It's not a very prepossessing area where they are; brown dirt corrals with horses already saddled and waiting. Obviously they don't live there but are brought along according to who has booked.

There were six of us on this ride and Lion was the only man. We were asked our level of experience and allotted a suitable horse. I got Lady, a palomino paint, about 15 hands tall which is a perfect size for me and who was said to be Troy, our driver's favourite of the horses and Lion, who's not anything like as experienced as I am, was given a big gentle bay, John Wayne.

Our guide for the one-and-a-half-hour ride was Clarissa and she made a point of saying that it was fine to hold back and trot at the back of the ride if any of us wanted to. Oh hooray! I double-checked with her about doing it repeatedly and she said, 'Absolutely. We like riders to do that; it keeps the horses interested.'

Isn't it odd how your body has memories? It's fifteen years since I rode Western-style (good grief! Really?) but the second I swung my leg across Lady's back and settled my feet in the stirrups, I got Western-saddle-left-leg-syndrome. I'd completely forgotten that I used to get that! However, a firm but friendly talking-to the left leg, pointing out that I am two stone lighter and a lot fitter now and there was no need for that and, happily, it agreed and gave up the memory.

No one else wanted to hold back so I slipped to the back fairly early on. Lady strenuously objected to standing still and waiting when I first suggested it to her. But once she'd realised that I meant what I was telling her and that I knew how to ride her she submitted willingly enough. And when she realised what I was up to, she decided this was a great idea and was even willing to walk away from the others to get a longer run-up for some good canters. So it was a great ride for me; just perfect for getting back into the Western saddle. And it was a great ride for the others too, happy to get to know their horses and potter along at a walk. Win-win.

The trail wasn't beautiful by Sedona standards. It was out of the area where there red rocks rise and we didn't take a long enough ride to go down to Oak Creek itself. But it was November and the countryside was fairly bleak (although the rains were beginning to bring the desert into a rather reluctant bloom). You can see from the picture at the top what the terrain was like and, on our particular day, there wasn't any wildlife to be seen. But it was still great fun.

I intended to go back, for a longer ride all on my own but events overtook us and there was so much else to do that it didn't happen. But I'd go back there like a shot. Yes please.

Sedona 2015. no.1 Sedona itself.

The Bell rock formation, Sedona.

I was going to start by telling you how we got here but that would be daft. What you most want is to see lovely pictures and read fun stuff. So, the story of our November 2015 trip to Sedona simply has to begin with those.

I'll sneak the 'Getting There' blog in second or third having, hopefully, lured you in with the sheer beauty of the place.

VisitSedona.com waxes lyrical about the area in a way that will make the average undemonstrative Brit (my husband) reach for the vomit bucket. It says, 'Sedona exists at an impossible intersection of soul-nourishing wilderness and pampered luxury … start with scenery that makes your heart leap. Sedona nestles among a geological wonderland. Multi-hued formations jut upwards from the high desert floor, creating a vivid, mesmerising setting that changes hourly with the light.'

The annoying thing is that (apart from the pampered luxury bit, which depends entirely where you are staying) they are right. It's bloody beautiful to say the least and despite being deluged with New-Age-Atlantean-Ascended-Masters-wanky-bollocks about healing energy vortexes — they don't call them vortices for some reason — it has got amazing, genuine healing vortexes. I'm not what you'd call especially psychically sensitive but I can spot a powerful place when one hits me, especially if it stops me in my tracks when I'm least expecting it.

The wonderful orange tors are coloured by hematite (iron oxide) — or in my husband's terminology 'rust.'

Yep, that's it. Sedona is rusty. That's what makes it beautiful.

It's at the base of what's called the Mogollom Rim, an escarpment running through the middle of Arizona.  There are three types of rock: sandstone, basalt and limestone and the tors are formed as the softer sandstone erodes away. There are hundreds of walks where your eyes will just gorge themselves on geological gloriousness and it truly is worth taking each morning morning and afternoon just for the changes in the colours.

A friend on Facebook commented that she'd been to Sedona before it became a tourist trap, implying that it was better then. Well, the town itself may indeed be one of those and it's certainly got more than its share of therapy centres, shops loaded with dream-catchers, crystals, more-or-less genuine Indian jewellery and more gluten-free cafes that you could shake a smudge stick at … and its teeming with long-haired folk wearing purple embroidered clothes with too many buttons but, frankly, I'd say the whole area is absolutely brilliant. I'll tell you about the fudge shop later.

Walk A Mile In My Shoes

A couple of years ago I took a comedy course with a company called Mirth Control in Bath. It was the

With Arthur Smith at a Mirth Control gig in Bath.

best of times and the worst of times because I was learning the art of comedy with some fabulous people while awaiting a diagnosis on the life-enhancing dis-ease.

The guy who runs Mirth Control is called Geoff Whiting. He's both a comedian and a comedy agent and he puts out a weekly form on the internet for any comedian telling them what gigs he's offering at what price, when and where. That's any comedian — not just comedians for whom Mirth Control is the agent.

These gigs vary from open mic (no fee) to headlining (varying amounts according to what the market will bear) and they also include car shares wherever possible — a car share for an aspiring comedian is very important if we are to get to as many gigs as we want to while we learn the craft. Comedians travel up and down and across the UK all the time chasing their comedic destiny.

Geoff also offers gigs abroad in Europe. At the moment he's under attack from some comedians for not offering 'enough' for a gig in France. Here's the offer:

You know something, as a semi-pro comedian, I'd jump at that offer. The only reason I haven't bid for it is because I'm performing at someone's private party on Friday 19th — for a very good fee, thank you very much. The reason why I've got that very good fee is because I asked a comedian friend, Paul, how much I should charge and then checked that amount with Geoff.

Geoff is not my agent. But since I did the Mirth Control course I've been in touch with him several times — to ask him what he thought of my YouTube video, to explain why I wasn't bidding for gigs (when I was ill) and telling him about my month in Edinburgh and, just a few months ago, asking him if it was okay for me to start bidding for paid gigs through Mirth Control.

Every single time Geoff has read my email properly and replied in detail. Every single time he has been friendly, honest and supportive. He's never been paid a penny for helping me in my comedy career but he has done so without a moment's hesitation. When it came to the private gig on 19th June I knew I could ask him whether I was worth the amount that Paul had suggested and he said 'yes.'

I am a niche comedian — there aren't many kick-ass vicars on the circuit — so if someone wants my kind of comedy, I'm pretty much the only one who can provide it. On the other hand, there are many, many pubs and clubs where I'd go down like a lead balloon. So there's no use in my going 'I can command a LOT of money so I'm not going to do any gigs where I might have to buy my own lunch.' Heck, I have to buy my own lunch most days so doing it in France would not give me a moment's trouble.

So what's my point here? It's simply to say this to the comedians who are bitching at Geoff Whiting on Twitter: 'You think it's underpaid? Then don't apply for the gig!' That's all. It's not a sin to offer a gig that doesn't pay a lot of money when you are offering travel to France and Cannes and Monaco for free! It's a dream gig for someone who's moving from open mic to paid work.

It's also worth pointing out that Geoff is not Simon Cowell. He doesn't live in a mansion; he doesn't drive an expensive car; he doesn't sit in his office gloating over the money his comedians bring in. He's a decent bloke who just loves comedy. And in a genre which is currently hugely over-subscribed with aspirants, he's offering what the market can bear. He can only pay us what the venue will pay him.

I've only organised a few public events in my life but I know it's like herding cats and I know that getting decent money out of a venue/people who want entertainment supplied can be like getting blood out of a stone. Anyone who does that kind of thing as a living gets my vote. And anyone who complains about the service he offers should walk a mile in his shoes to see if they could do any better before they say a word of condemnation.

Up to the date of writing, Geoff Whiting has never offered me a paid gig. But he has offered me his time and his advice — and I am grateful.