Author: Scott Andrews

Reclusive former writer of absurd nonsense. Occasional contributor to #newsbiscuit

It Takes All Saints

The kind of All Saints I prefer

The Solemnity of All Saints day is a day of many aliases including All Saints Day, All Hallows or Hallowmas.  Irrespective of which label you choose to refer to it by, it is arguably one of the most peculiar days in the Christian calendar.

During  seven years living in Poland I have always refused to participate in what at home we refer to as ‘the Day of the Dead’ for a number of reasons.  First and foremost is the fact that I am not a Catholic, therefore I knew I would feel out-of-place.  The second reason is that graveyards are not happy places.  The idea of willfully spending a day traipsing round cemeteries was something which I could never see myself doing as I have never seen any intrinsic value in mourning.

This year was markedly different as for the first time I would have someone I knew to visit.  In my mind I steeled myself for what I perceived to be a difficult day.  All I knew about All Saints day was that this is when Poles visit graveyards to pay respect to the deceased.  That the day itself was at the least traditionally important as well as being some kind of holy day.  I was warned to expect large numbers of people, that the graves would be covered in lighted candles and that the cemeteries in the evening would be a picturesque scene of beauty and tranquility.

How wrong was I?  What I did witness was an industry at large.  People queuing up like Lemmings to purchase candles and flowers.  Whole families meeting beside graves producing improbably larger and larger candles.  The stench of a thousand flowers mixed together with the stench of melting wax only served to unsettle my stomach.  The graves looked more like Mediterranean dining tables than burial sites.  The number of candles and flowers were a grotesque reminder that any semblance of solitude or dignity were nowhere to be seen, the only thing missing were cheap checkered table cloths.  In fact it was more like some kind of social meeting than any attempt at genuine remembrance.

Unsurprisingly when I made my observations audible, I certainly didn’t make any friends.  Poles as people are incredibly defensive of their nation and its traditions, irrespective of how meaningful these traditions actually are.  It was with a growing sense of frustration that I decided to investigate precisely where  this specific tradition comes from.

The typical point for any investigation in the 21st century is very often Wikipedia, which defined All Saints Day as follows:-

‘In Western Christian theology, the day commemorates all those who have attained the beatific vision in Heaven. It is a national holiday in many historically Catholic countries.’

Which means that All Saints Day is not a day traditionally reserved for mourning the dead, rather it is a day for commemorating saints.  In the case of the Catholic church, which incidentally has beautified over 10,000 saints(there is no exact head count)which makes for an extremely busy day for a Catholic.  It is a Holy Day of Obligation which in turn means that traditionalist or not every Catholic should attend a mass on All Saints Day.  All of this information begs the question, why is it that in Poland people associate Hallowmas with a day of remembrance for loved ones?

Oddly enough the tradition of remembering loved ones on the 1st of November can be found in Protestantism, Methodism and Lutheranism.  In the fore mentioned cases it is more directly connected to the belief that all human beings are saints for marginally different reasons.  What makes it stranger is that Poland is among a number of countries which have adapted the meaning of All Saints Day for reasons I have not being able to uncover.

Merriam-Webster defines a tradition as an inherited, established or customary pattern of thought, action or behaviour.  In that respect  All Saints day fits the bill.  The troubling aspect of many a tradition is that often the tradition remains but the meaning fades or changes.  A tradition without meaning is little more than a reflexive knee-jerk to a calendar date, as valuable as Valentines Day or Pancake Day.

10,000 Words

In 6 days of writing I have comfortably broken the 10,000 word barrier.  I can now say to myself that I am 20% finished.  It is a pretty awesome, awe-inspiring feeling as it makes be believe that writing a 50,000 word novel in a month is well within the reams of possibility.  The fact that NaNoWriMo gives you daily word targets gives you a greater sense of exactly where you are in regards to completing your novel which in turn helps you keep your feet on your ground, and keep you focused.

At the moment I feel this project is far removed, and so different from anything I have ever written in my life.  Whether it will end up as a failed experiment or something I can be proud of I don’t know.  It’s exciting to be working on something which is pushing me as a writer.  It is a million miles from my comfort zone.  I have banned myself from reading it, and I shall do my level best to resist the temptation until November is finished, this way I can be assured that there will be at least one person excited to read it.

In the last update I was talking about how unusual words can come up when you write and grab your attention.  The recent word which has fascinated me is ‘lambasted’.  When you read it with a southern english accent it sounds like it means ‘to break something with a young sheep’.

Every Little Helps

I am aware that city life isn’t for the faint hearted.  I have read a great deal about how life in the 21st century seems to be one ultra competitive race to the coffin.  What I haven’t heard about is why exactly more and more people are turning into arseholes?

Admittedly I didn’t have an idealistic childhood.  Despite that, I did learn a thing or two when I was young.  Most notably that good manners cost nothing.

I am far from a model citizen.  I accept that I suffer from an overly liberal-minded tongue.  However if I am in a rush I will say excuse me as I push past people.  If I tread on someone inadvertently I will apologise.  If someone holds a door open for me I will say thank you.

What frustrates me the most about the apparent disappearance of manners is that I now reside in a society which is overwhelmingly Christian yet nowhere have I more keenly felt the absolute rejection of the concept of ‘loving’ your neighbour than here in Poland.  I have no idea whether manners have eroded to such an extent in other countries.  Just the very thought is disheartening.

Countless times I have met people from other countries who have a somewhat archaic view of Britain.  It seems that the common opinion is that Britain stops everything for tea, we only ever talk about the weather, our food is awful and our people are overly polite.  The very fact that our politeness stands out either says something great about our culture or says something negative about theirs.  I have lost count of the number of times I have been asked why do you say thank you for everything?  You get change in a shop you say thank you, someone holds open the door you say thank you, you get off the bus you thank the driver.  For them they can’t imagine why we do these things, for me I can’t imagine why they don’t.

I can’t speak for my country, however I can speak for myself.   I do these things for two reasons, the first is not out of any sense of moral obligation nor due to religious instruction.  I do these things because they are things I can do to make the world a little more pleasant.  And the second reason is the fact that I am not an ignorant arsehole.

It’s On

Today the starting pistol was fired for NaNoWriMo.  I wouldn’t say my start was a flyer, alas it wasn’t too bad either.  1700 words in on what will be a 50,000 word journey is quite an intimidating thought.  I feel like I am standing in front of Everest.  I am scared but also exhilarated.  I am the master of my fate for the next month.  Come the end of November, if I fail I shall only have myself to blame.   I shall try to keep posting on my blog, obviously I shan’t have so much time, at the least I shall keep adding progress reports.

It’s a strange irony that the 1st of November is not only the day I have started my novel, but it is also the day of the dead here in Poland.  As death is a key theme in this project, and death is absolutely everywhere, it’s hard to actually think of much else.  I intend on writing a more detailed post about this peculiar Polish holiday later in the week.  What I will say for now is that it the inspiration is working for me.

One of the many wonders of writing for me is when you find yourself typing a word that you seldom use.  So much so that when you say the word aloud it makes you smile.  Todays word was ‘skittish’.  Is it me or does it sound a little like a nationality?  Maybe it’s used to describe people from St Kitts?  Anyway, enough of my nonsense, I have to get ready to join the real world.

Two And A Half Days Until Lift Off

As I previously mentioned, I have signed up to http://www.nanowrimo.org and have every intention of writing a 50,000 word novel in November.  I am pumped and can’t wait for Tuesday to come around so I can get started.  You can still sign up for a month of madness, so if you haven’t already put your name down for passage on this fantastic voyage do it now.  You know you want to.

I have decided upon my subject for November.  I feel it is quirky enough to get 50,000 words from.  Not only that I get to fulfill a long-held personal ambition.  Since I decided to participate I have had an idea in my head which has already started to take on a life of its own.  I know that between now and the time I finished this project I will not be able to sleep.  Today I filled in my synopsis on the NaNoWriMo website so I feel able to publicly share the very loose basis for the project.  Of course it may change a thousand times through November but for today it is correct.  So here you are, the brief outline to my new novel.  Are you sitting comfortably?

There are three things which can irrevocably change a man’s life. Death, God and saying the wrong thing at precisely the wrong moment. Unfortunately for Professor Henry Tomlinson he has recently experienced all three. As Henry desperately tries to cling onto the remnants of his sanity he gets pursued by ninjas, hunted by journalists and stalked by priests. Can Henry get through this ordeal without losing his mind, and if he does what kind of Henry Tomlinson will remain?