Monday, 19 January 2026

Looking back ...

Last week Stories of Hope and Home held our AGM, including presenting our annual report for 2024 -25. The other charity I work for, Birch Network, also published our annual report in the autumn. Annual reports can only ever tell a tiny part of the story and are almost always, inevitably out of date by the time they are published but nonetheless, between them, these do capture something of what I have been up to.

In an attempt not to waffle indefinitely (I know myself well!) while remembering to share some key points, I more or less wrote myself a script to introduce and offer an update to the annual report at the Stories group AGM. Having written it, it seems appropriate to share it here, together with both annual reports for anyone who is interested in something of an insight into two organisations who I genuinely believe are doing good and important things in a world where it has never been more needed!

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This annual report relates to the year April 2024 to March 2025. It is uploaded on to the charity commission website, and it stands as our official record of who we are, what we do and how we are fulfilling our responsibilities as a charity.

We decided to do something slightly different this year with how we put it together, and invited, encouraged (possibly slightly forced) lots of different people who've been involved in the project to contribute to it. We think, hope, that the inclusion of lots of different voices makes for a more engaging read, and it also fits with our ethos and values as a project: to centre the voices of our participants and make space for them to be heard. So thank you, to everyone who contributed to it. And for those of you who didn't, perhaps because you weren’t involved in the project at that point, thank you in advance for writing next year’s!

I am, obviously, not going to read out the whole report because you can do that at your leisure. I think if I want to summarise what it says, I would say I really believe that this report, and in fact this project, stands as a witness to the fact that despite challenging external circumstances and I think those do have to be named and acknowledged, that it is possible to create communities which are diverse, and which are also enriching, supportive and beautiful; and that human encounter is powerfully transformative. I think what this report says is that what we do makes a difference, and that it really matters, and I think everyone involved in it in every way should be proud of that.

Like almost all annual reports ours is chronically out of date before it has seen the light of day so I said I would give some kind of update to what's being going on in the nine months since. I think it can be summed up by saying, as we did in our performance,: "and still, we are here". The environment for people seeking sanctuary is hard, and getting harder, the way this subject is talked about is increasingly hostile ... but despite the best efforts of the home office and certain sections of the media and the public, we are still here and we are going to continue to be here with and for one another.

Last summer was particularly challenging ... with the flags campaign, the attacks on the schools of sanctuary movement with whom we of course work very closely, and with a series of somewhat vague but exceptionally hostile announcements from government. None of this is easy, nor should we pretend it is. But in the midst of it all, we have continued to provide safe space: space to understand and to process and to find support. There have been tears, and anger and frustration. There has also been plenty of dancing and cake and laughter and joy. There have been lots of hugs. We have been here for each other.

Since last April we have continued to welcome plenty of new participants, welcome, thank you for being part of this, we have coloured in new countries on our map, we have visited, I counted, 40 schools and other groups educating literally hundreds of people about the realities of the asylum system, we have had two incredible residential festivals of encounter, we have performed at the REP theatre and in several other smaller venues, we have had lots of parties, we have done some incredible writing, we have discussed both the serious and the very very silly, we have continued building a beautiful community.

So, still we are here … and this story does not end yet...

Sunday, 11 January 2026

Epiphany Reflection

We have just passed the feast of Epiphany, of "revelation from above". 

This was written last year as a reflection to lead in to a Stories group encounter, sharing their experiences with a group of teachers and inviting them to reflect on how we welcome travellers from afar ... It is, yes, a reflection on the journey and arrival of the magi, but primarily a thinly veiled reflection on the journeys and arrival of people seeking sanctuary. I failed to post it last year, and am already late posting it this year, but I want to put it here at some point, and refuse to leave it in my drafts folder until 2027!
'Today' is the day when we celebrate the arrival of the Magi in Bethlehem, possibly to the stable, possibly to whatever humble abode the holy family went to next.

We don't exactly know, but the Magi were, most likely, Zoroastrians from Persia … Gentiles, foreigners who looked to the stars for wisdom, who wore strange clothes, spoke strange languages, and worshipped strange gods.

Gentiles, foreigners who were guided towards this God expressed in vulnerable incarnation. Who travelled great distances, who poured out their gifts.

Gentiles, foreigners who went away by a different route, who were forever changed by their encounter with the infant Jesus.

Imagine seeing the star

Imagine a light that tells you something new is promised. Imagine conversations about whether to follow, or to wait and see.

Would you stay … or would you dare to go?
(Pause)

Imagine setting out on a journey

Imagine not knowing where the journey is leading but trusting in the promise. Imagine crossing borders, going beyond known realities. Imagine holding on to the hope through all the struggles along the way.

Would you keep going … or would you give up?
(Pause)

Imagine arriving at what you thought was your destination only to realise it wasn’t what you thought

Imagine the hope, and the disappointment. Imagine the conversations, the looking for answers, imagine not knowing the motivations of those purporting to help.

Would you press on … or would you stop here?
(Pause)

Imagine arriving, expecting a king and finding a stable

Imagine the star guiding you to the most unexpected of places. Imagine reaching your destination. Imagine it looking like this. Imagine the doubt, and the hope in the promise.

Would you question its validity … or would you accept this reality?
(Pause)

Imagine strangers arriving at the door

Imagine strangers who look and sound different to anyone you have ever known. Strangers from well beyond your sphere of experience. Imagine the sights, sounds, smells they bring with them.

Do you hesitate … or throw open the door in welcome?
(Pause)

Imagine knowing, or hoping, you had found what you were looking for, and pouring out your gifts trusting they will be received

Imagine the encounter between strangers with seemingly nothing in common, no shared culture, language, faith. Imagine finding a way to make a connection. Imagine gifts, poured out in that space.

Do you know what you would give… and what you would receive?
(Pause)

Imagine the gift of gold

Imagine gifts of material wealth. The wealth of money and stuff, but also of time and of talents.

What gold do you bring … what gold are you ready to receive?
(Pause)

Imagine the gift of frankincense

Imagine gifts that speaks of God. Imagine gifts which invite a different and deeper understanding of the divine.

What incense do you bring… what incense are you ready to receive?
(Pause)

Imagine the gift of myrrh

Imagine gifts overlaid with the sadness of suffering. Imagine gifts which come wrapped in stories of pain, gifts which offer and demand sacrificial love.

What myrrh do you bring … what myrrh are you ready to receive?
(Pause)

Imagine Magi
Imagine the Holy family


Imagine strangers bearing gifts
Imagine them welcomed and accepted

Imagine that this is where we find God is revealed

And then imagine that inherent in the revelation
Is a call
To change
To go back by another way

Would you take it?

Friday, 9 January 2026

Back at the potter's wheel

In early 2024, I had my first go on a pottery wheel. I said at the time I would definitely do it again, and this summer returned for another taster session, following which, (after a fair amount of hesitation and prevaricating) I signed up for a longer course. 

To be honest, it felt like an extravagance in terms of both time and money but it also felt like a good decision. It was the end of the summer when, as recent posts have suggested, I was feeling a little overwhelmed by the state of the world and very conscious that heading into the autumn, I needed to take self-care seriously. A commitment to two-and-a-half hours a week in a pottery studio, doing something entirely different, just for me, just for the pleasure of it, was one of the ways I have been doing so, and the benefits have been numerous.  

We were a small class so, over a number of weeks, I spent time with a completely new group of people. Over the course we spent together we exchanged gentle conversation and learned snippets about each others lives (and, mostly, talked quite a lot about clay!) They were people whose lives were generally, different to most of those who make up the other communities in which I exist, people whose paths would, probably, otherwise, never have crossed my own (or possibly each others). And yet together here we were, building a friendly, supportive community, albeit a temporary one. 

I have turned my hand to quite a few different arts and crafts over the years and if I had to put my finger on why this one has (at least for now) really captured my imagination, I think it would be something about the very physical, tactile nature of it. There is something indefinably pleasing about just handling the clay: even before you have begun to create anything. I guess it is not dissimilar to the pleasure of putting your hands in soil when planting things: it is after all, really just earth. 

One of the things I had to learn very quickly is that it has to be fine to fail. Several of my attempts were, frankly, disastrous and ended up squished back into a ball of clay to be reused later (some others possibly should have done too!). There was something freeing in the knowing that it really didn't matter, in the letting go and moving on.

I realise there doesn't need to be a hierarchy of benefits, but possibly the most significant was that there are, it turns out, really quite a lot of things to think about when throwing on a pottery wheel. Both hands, and quite a lot of the rest of your body, and your brain, all have to be fully engaged and focused on the task in hand ... which leaves no space for thinking about, or doing, anything else. For a couple of hours a week I was thinking about clay, and very little else. Living, as I do, a life where my work and home lives bleed into one another, and where I am frequently dealing with emotionally intense issues from which it isn't always easy to switch off, it proved an incredibly valuable space in which to be.

I am very, very far from being able to describe myself as a potter, but I do feel like I have made a bit of progress and the last things I made are at least marginally better than the first. There is a satisfaction in that, undoubtedly, but there was also a deep satisfaction inherent in the process, much more so than in the product (although I was, I confess, also very excited to collect my pieces when they emerged from their final firing).

And so I reached the end. It still felt like it was a very good decision. And so, admittedly still with a fair amount of hesitation and prevaricating, I signed up again for January. The journey continues. 

Sunday, 4 January 2026

Reading List 2025

This is the fourth year of me publishing my reading list for the year ...

An Equal Music - Vikram Seth

The Voyage Home - Pat Barker

The Cyclist who went out in the Cold - Tim Moore

The Dutch House - Ann Patchett 

Daddy-Long-Legs - Jean Webster

Gold - Chris Cleave

Belonging - John O Donohue

A gentle creature and other stories - Fyodor Dostoevsky

Hope for the innocent - Caroline Dunford

Birnam Wood - Eleanor Catton

The Book of Chameleons - Jose Edouardo Agualusa

Cloud Cuckoo Land - Anthony Doerr

The God Desire - David Baddiel

The Bookbinder of Jericho - Pip Williams 

Empireland: How imperialism has shaped modern Britain - Sathnam Sanghera

Small Bomb at Dimperley - Lissa Evans

Human Traces - Sebastian Faulks

There are Rivers in the Sky - Elif Shafak

James - Perivale Everett

Tidelands - Philippa Gregory

Sing but keep on walking (reflections for advent) - Jan Sutch Pickard