A pawful of dust

I should be hibernating. All sensible bears sleep through January. Find a nice warm cave or a decent five star hotel room and lock themselves in until Spring. But Madame won't let me. Needs her little bear alert and by her side. Bear - the ninth emergency service or something. Yes, it's not fair but if she can't hibernate then I can't hibernate.

Ho hum.

At least I've had the chance to listen to the radio version of Mr Pullman's His Dark Materials. Third time lucky. Read the books. Seen the *yawn* film. Radio version. It's a story for children *sob* I must be a bear of small brain. An idiot cub.

I like all the jolly adventure stuff - witches and gyptians and bobbing about between worlds. Daemons sound interesting. Perhaps it explains Madame.

And - ooooooooo, excitement - there are the armoured bears. Proud. Fierce. Heroic. Unfortunately also gloomy and stinky. I'll give Mr Pullman the first one - that's polar bears for you - never the life and soul of the party - but I think his dig at ursine hygiene standards is a bit low. I have a bath at least twice a year.

But then it goes all deep and dark and theological and my little brain starts to hum. There are a whole load of Da Vinci Code types who insist on being religious with menaces and violence and a god or creator chap who is probably just some old bloke in a box and everyone is fighting and no one is happy and ...

Apologies. Had to take a small break so I could do a little dance to the Banana Splits song. Don't mock. I'll bet Richard Dawkins does it all the time. Secretly. Maybe. Possibly not.

Right. His Dark Materials. Rebellion against false god. No one happy. Angels all grumpy. Death. Disaster. Despair. Dust.

Lots of dust. Only dust isn't just dust it is also original sin. Or something. I definately don't understand this bit. If this was the case then Madame would be the world's most original sinner. But then it's not really original sin because god isn't god and death isn't death and it's really partical physics. Or something. Dust is a Good Thing - but only if religious types aren't allowed to mess with it. I think that's the message at the end of the story. Which is nice. If you're an atheist and like things dusty.

Ho and hum. Very. Quite.

I was planning to read Winkie next but I'm worried that it might be too difficult for a Bear of Small Brain who can't understand dust. Perhaps I'll just prop it up over me and secretly hibernate. shhhhhh. Don't tell Madame.