This story concerns the bus driver who drove me home today. He was a real sweetie - most turn into robots, but he was evidently new because he had a laugh at something said over the intercom, and stopped to help a fellow bus-driver round a difficult corner. It was while we were stopped that the old man sitting next to me started mumbling. At first I didn't think it was directed at me - he was clearly too old to be on public transport on his own. But it was, and when I worked through the mumble he said:

"Ruddy foreigners" [the driver was black] "Why do we want foreigners driving our buses?"

I've never thought racism was a big problem before being in London - yeah, so shoot me - because it is something I have never encountered first hand. So I was a little shocked, but more peeved off at him making me a part of his bad attitude. It's hard not to feel that, by not disagreeing with someone, you are tacitly agreeing.

"Where you from?" he muttered conspiratorially.
"Here," I replied.
"Me too..." and he trailed off into dribbling again.

I got as far as turning back to him, to point out that the bus driver lives here too, before deciding to stay silent. It's all about choosing your battles, and I knew this was a pointless one. He was too old to change his ways, and probably too crazy as well. That's not what I regret.

All last term I lived in a liberal bubble - all my friends were gay, and black, and Jewish, and if they weren't, well they were working on it. It was a bit of a shock to come home and realise that actually, outside the student populace, the world is filled with judgemental bigots. Like discovering a forgotten sandwich that has turned into green fluff, somewhere you least expected it. Even though I knew the man was old, mad, and had no idea what he was talking about, it still really depressed me because his is a view shared by young sane people who should know better.

It reminded me a little of a a monestary we visited in Santorini. I picked up a leaflet in which the author explained why monks were not meant to help those in need, and why seclusion from the outside world was the best way of helping it. He drew a comparison to the radio operator in an army. Everyone else fights, which appears to be helpful - but if things get dire the radio operator can use his radio to summon air support. Now of course, if you're not a Christian - or indeed, not Greek Orthodox - this must strike you as useful as calling in your imaginary elephant friends to trample the enemy.

I'm still not convinced of the ethics - it suggests God is up there counting prayers, and when enough monks sing at the same time he deigns to intervene. A bit like Noel Edmond on Comic Relief night, sitting on his cloud with a big white beard and a big holy thermometer. Surely it would be better if the monks were out there doing good works instead of indirectly influencing things with the power of their minds. Though it does suggest that secretly, all monks are Timelords - refusing to interfere, but shaping the big curves of history.

That mad dude on the bus has really been the final straw. All summer, I've been looking forward to retreating back to my circle of pagan, Guardian reading, vegitarian, recycling, pro-everything reactionaries and shutting out the world. Guernsey is a nice place to have come from. But now I think of it, that's exactly what the monks have done. Instead of engaging with the world and actively helping, they are hiding away among their peers and not taking first-hand stock of its problems. It's making me wonder whether I've been wrong. Though it goes against everything I admire, instead of missing an atmosphere where everyone is happy and liberal, I should have been hammering people with my wit, knowledge and superior attitude until they were happy and liberal too.

I think I've discovered something beautiful, but daunting, about the world. You shouldn't try to find a better place - instead, you should be striving to make the place you are in a better place.


And that's it for me - tomorrow, I'm off. You might not hear from me for a while, as there is no internet at the new house yet. Two more ideas for house names: Castle Anthrax, and Traken. The latter is the chief planet in Doctor Who of a Union "held together by everyone being terribly nice to one another". It seems apt.

So. The rest is silence.