You've got 90s Nostalgia and Dial-up Internet

Ah... You've got mail. I remember thinking last time I watched it about a hundred years ago that it was a film I really ought to have loved, but I didn't, not quite.

Well, I've got more emotional in my old age, and I welled up a couple of times, but again... unconvinced. I get that they fall in love online. After all, I was gutted when Mark from Columbus stopped messaging me back - I was developing a crush on him, his style of writing, the way he thought. And if you've been paying any attention at all, you will know that I profess to be in love with a man I have never met, although I know an awful lot about him through what I've seen and heard and read.

So it's not the falling in love part I object to. It's just the fact that (spoiler alert, by the way) one minute they're fighting and the next minute, ping, he's in love and taking her flowers. No explanation, really. I suppose in a book you could explain that better, the complexity of his thoughts. But unconvincing.

But anyway, it was fun to watch, mostly for the nostalgia. That internet dial up tone. The absence of Harry Potter books in the bookshops. And back then, no guilt, because I'd yet to place my first order with Amazon.

And, of course, New York. Places I tell myself I vaguely recognise, though on closer inspection it's just generic New York I recognise, but that's good enough for me. I love it there - but then you know that, too.

And Starbucks. When I watched this back in whenever it was I probably had never seen a Starbucks, let alone having a clue as to what it would become. (And how desperately I would one day come to miss it...) And I don't think I even fully understood whether they were emailing, instant messaging or what. In my defence, I never had AOL, so it was all a bit confusing: computers didn't talk outside of America back then.

I'll leave you with my favourite quotes, and recommend you watch it, if you too long for the happier, simpler era of the late 90s...

"I could never be with anyone who didn't take politics as seriously as I do." (and you were thinking there would be no mention of the West Wing!)

"People do really stupid things in foreign countries."

"The whole purpose of places like Starbucks is for people with no decision-making ability whatsoever to make six decisions just to buy one cup of coffee. Short, tall, light, dark, caf, decaf, low-fat, non-fat, etc. So people who don't know what the hell they're doing or who on earth they are can, for only $2.95, get not just a cup of coffee but an absolutely defining sense of self: Tall. Decaf. Cappuccino."

Spiritual lessons from the West Wing: Season Five moments

Fans of the greatest TV show ever made will know that something terrible happens at the end of Season Four. And no, I don't mean the departure of Rob Lowe, though the loss of Sam Seaborn upsets the balance of characters and, in my opinion the series never fully recovers from this.

No, I'm talking about something far more fundamental: Aaron Sorkin left. Someone else was writing the characters. Getting America involved in peace-keeping missions, keeping Josh and Donna apart, all that stuff. It wasn't the same. Still now people complain about the change in the behaviour of some characters: Richard Schiff was reportedly angry at what happens with Toby later on, and loving Donna as I do, I desperately miss Aaron Sorkin's version of her. She would never have said "not much nostalgia there". Anyway, I digress.

Those who watched the West Wing for its fast-paced, intelligent dialogue (and I'm guessing that's most of us), for its, well, its Sorkin-ness, went into mourning.

The change was jarring.

Life feels a little like that, sometimes, doesn't it? Everything's going along well. You think you know where things are heading. Then something happens, something you did not expect, something perhaps that years later you will still question. Something that upsets the balance of your life.

If you're in a Season Five moment right now, struggling to work out where things went wrong, why it had to be this way when you liked it so much just the way it was, take heart: God is still in control. He has not left you. He still knows the end from the beginning, and He is still getting you there. Remember Joseph? Thrown into a pit and sold into slavery. But God meant it for good.

I'm reading a brilliant book by Pete Wilson at the moment: "Plan B - what to do when God doesn'tshow up the way you thought He would". The best advice I can give you is to work through that. Well that's not entirely true: the best advice I can give you is actually to cling to God, but that book will show you how.

Who's writing your life? Be thankful (no, really) that it's not Aaron Sorkin. Be thankful that it's not any man (or woman) who at any point could leave you at the mercy of less-than-perfect scriptwriters. He knows where He is taking you, and He will get you there. Even if the route seems circuitous at times.

Aaron was apparently going to bring back Sam Seaborn, going to resolve the cliff-hanger at the end of Season Four very differently. (Who knows, maybe we'd have even seen Donna's answer to Amy's question.) But He wasn't there to do it. That will not happen for you: the Author of your faith is also the Perfecter of it, the Finisher of it. He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion.

He will not leave you. He has not left you.

Bradley Whitford live chat - sniff.

I just missed, by minutes, Bradley Whitford doing a live chat on the Washington Post website.

"Distraught" does not even begin to cover it.

I am, however, happy to report that as I suspected, the guy can spell. Only one mistake was spotted by my keen eye, and I think I'll give him the benefit of the doubt and assume it was a typo. Also one tiny punctuation issue. This reassures me, on the whole: he is human. Therefore he is real.

So, Brad, if you're out there, these are the questions I would have asked you. Apart from all the obvious ones, and all that.

- How can we convince you to join twitter?

- Which book are you currently reading, do you read several at a time, and which five books would you take with you to a desert island?

- Please will you write the screenplay for the book I am writing?

- You have a bunch of very devoted fans. Do you ever get freaked out by their adulation of you?

- How about coming to Europe to do a play?

- What is the one question you wish people asked you on these kinds of occasions?

- Do you ever Google yourself or do a Twitter search and find out what people are saying?

- When are you going to write a movie and give Josh Malina a really bad part?

- When can we have coffee?

And also, please, oh please, can you let me know when you next do one of these? Thank you.

Together on a mission: a personal perspective

Expect the unexpected, went a prophetic word on that first morning. Hooray, I thought. A husband, at last! A call to DC! Both rolled into one, maybe: my own Jesus-loving, Church-planting Josh Lyman. Well, a girl can dream. And this girl does. A lot. Too much, maybe.

I was missing the point. The unexpected means you can't anticipate it because you don't know what it's going to be. You can't conceive of it, a bit like those verses in - 1 Corinthians, is it?: no eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has ever conceived what God has prepared for those who love him. If no mind has ever conceived, then it's going to be something unexpected.

At this year's conference the unexpected was this: what God did in my heart through relationships. Relationships? At Brighton? Dashing from one meeting to the other with barely enough time to peg it up the hill in between for yet another Costa latté? Yes. Strange. I know. But I reconnected with some people from my past - from my eighteen-year-old past, back when Impact was called FYP and my heart was filled with dreams of changing the world and hopes of church planting, and also pain that God would graciously come and minister to, in large part through the wonderful family that I lived with.

Every year at Brighton I see them again and every year it's special, but this year it was different. We got some real, quality time together, sitting on the beach in the sun, and we really talked, and prayed, in particular about some hurts and unforgiveness I have been carrying around for years. You know how preachers always say that when you don't forgive it's really you that you are hurting? Well, turns out it's true. Even if the other person does know about your unforgiveness. Which, as it turns out, sometimes they do. And sometimes you have to go and say sorry for that. It's humbling. It's embarrassing. Turns out that it also has incredible power.

It was emotionally exhausting and I had a headache and puffy eyes for what feels like a lot of the time. (Thank goodness for Boot's cucumber eye gel: it should be standard issue at Christian conferences.) I'd forgotten (somehow) how tiring it is when God deals with stuff in your heart. I didn't really know if much was happening but since coming home I've realised what God has been doing, and I'm so thankful. He's been softening and healing my heart, and if I let him, if i pursue him, this could transform me.

There were some other things, too. Some of them less unexpected. Ever since Stoneleigh days (yes, I'm that old) I've been underlining David Stroud's seminars in my programme and making sure I get to them. Something about his style really connects with my spirit and he always seem to speak into what I'm passionate about: whether it's the prophetic, church planting (yes, that again), and, more recently, the concept of "Everything": the earth is the Lord's, and everything in it, so part of our mandate as Christians is to transform culture. I was buzzing when I came out of his seminar, having realised that my book is not just a soppy love story but actually does challenge an idol in our culture: the idea that girl + getting the guy = ultimate happiness. The next day, in Matt Hatch's seminar, part of the same training track, my eyes kept filling with tears as I listened to inspiring story after inspiring story, and as I talked afterwards with two other teachers I gained fresh vision for my job: being an excellent teacher, and building good rapport with my students is not just "something I should do 'cause I'm a Christian, hrmph", but part of the mandate to transform culture! Suddently it's exciting again!

Another thing I love in Brighton is this: for one week it feels like anything is possible. God might call you anywhere, and He will be with you as you go, and with you as you stay. Madrid? Back to London? Could the US stuff, the politics, the writing, any or all of it, really be God? After all, the writing is in part a product of another unexpected Brighton moment on the last morning in 2008. And... ooooh... did anyone else notice Brussels being mentioned from the stage? So who knows where to from here. But I know this with new-found certainty: there is a cup-bearer in heaven, and He has not forgotten me.

And also, next year I will take a swimsuit.

Favourite things that begin with B...

Dear Bradley Whitford,

So you get through a book a week? This, this, is why I think you should be on Twitter. I would like to know what's on your bookshelf right now; what your favourite novels are; whether you ever well up when you read Barack Obama.

I'd like to know if you've read Let the Great World Spin and, like me, paused on page two, and then many, many more times, to think that if your writing ever gets sent out there into the great spinning world, this is what you would like it to sound like.

Come and join us.

Or you can write to me. That would be fine too.

Open letter to my hero

Dear Tom,

We both know that's not your name, but I don't want to get sued, so let's call you Tom, in memory of my last doomed love affair. Although, since you're American, let's pronounce it Tahm.

I am not asking you to marry me. I think the M word probably sends shivers up your spine these days. So let's start with a coffee, take it from there.

Because, here's the thing. I think you might find me valuable.

The more I read about you, the more I think it unfair, tragically unfortunate even, that you were born 20 years before me into a nation separated from mine by hundreds of miles, an ocean, and a common language, and into a destiny that will no doubt keep us apart.

You are passionate, articulate, intelligent, talented, generous. You love words. You make time for people.

You understand the importance of coffee.

You are a devoted father. I'm guessing the last thing you want is more kids, and that's fine. The whole pregnancy and birth thing freaks me out anyway. Let your children be the recipients of the reserves of love that I long to give.

You read a book a week. You write a thousand words a day.

Imagine the Scrabble games we could have.

I am not, or no longer, the kind of woman who needs constant entertainment, and so imagine rainy Sunday afternoons curled up together with our novels, interrupted only by coffee, fresh juice and perhaps some physical exercise. Imagine, too, the conversations: inspiring and energising as they so often are between bookworms.

We could take turns reading out our writing and help each other to find synonyms and new ways to convey old truths. We could work on a screenplay together, cast all our best friends in the movie, give Josh Malina the role of a lifetime. You could make me laugh with your witty one-liners and I could correct your spelling mistakes. Except that I have the feeling that you don't make any, apart from the usual American ones.

And when we're not doing any of that and you're not working - and I love your work, you know that - maybe we could run a political consultancy. Or campaign together to get Obama re-elected. You could teach me all there is to know about American politics. I think you would secretly quite enjoy that.

Can you honestly tell me that does not sound like fun?

Buy me that coffee and convince me.

Keywords, blogs, and yes, Bradley Whitford...

Time was 90% of people found my blog through two keywords, "Bradley Whitford" and "Janel Moloney". Shocking, I know. I don't know what happened there.

I'm happy to report that my readers have now diversified. Not only do I get references to, respectively, moustaches and pregnancies, I also get wider references to the West Wing and even, occasionally, to entirely different things.

On the moustache (and for the person who asked "why does Bradley Whitford look different"), briefly: yes, he has one, no, I don't like it, but yes, I understand his artistic choice of the accessory. I just hope he was joking in a recent interview when he said he was going to keep it.

On the pregnancy: Janel and her film composer husband now have a beautiful baby boy. This makes me smile for several reasons.

One, that I'm sure she is happy, and that's only fair after she spent so many years of my life bringing me joy. Although, I don't think she did it just for me, but when I eventually meet her I will verify that. Meeting a certain Other Famous Actress recently has made me realise I don't want to meet Janel unless she's going to be nice to me and allow me to gush at least a little about how much I love her, but that's another story.

Two, we have even more in common than I thought. "Is that possible?" I hear you cry, what with my blondeness, slimness, legginess and incredible talent for the perfoming arts. Ahem.

Aside from all those things which we do not share, there is one thing: when asked what she hoped for in season 5 of the West Wing: "Any chance to make out with Brad Whitford, that would be great". Incidentally, she reports that he is a great kisser. Well, yes.

Anyway, I digress. But we do have this in common: I once almost-dated a wannabe film composer. Okay, so I didn't marry him, and I think he's ended up working for a bank, but when I say almost-dated I mean that I was madly in love with him (I think it was mutual) and probably would have married him had circumstances been right, and he is a gifted musician who may still make it one day.

The other is that had I been a boy, I would have had the same name as Janel's son. Well, my mum told me that once, but then she's also told me I narrowly avoided being called Scarlet, and it turns out it wasn't really that narrow after all. Still, I'm sticking to my story, though I don't really see where the conversation could go after "I was nearly called that".

So, there you go. That's that story. You heard it here first, except probably not.

Sticking with the Brad theme for now, I think my favourite recent keyword was "Is Bradley Whitfield a Democrat?" I assume they mean him, and since they don't really know his name all that well, they can be forgiven for not knowing that the question is actually a far classier and more original version of "Is the sky blue?" or "Is the Pope a Catholic?". One which I may, in fact, start using, if nothing else because the sky is hardly ever blue where I live.

It also makes my little heart glad that people are typing in "Josh Malina Bradley Whitford" and, most excitingly, "Brad Whitford Josh Malina twitter comments", because I invented that particular genre of tweeting. Yes, the first time I ever had a tweet from Josh Malina (which had my jumping up and down with glee) was in response to one of mine. "Bradley Whitford," he said, "Is a hateful man whose career is receding faster than his hairline." Ouch, but very funny. People have been baiting him no end since, and I think it's distressing in the extreme that Brad is not on twitter to defend himself and fight back.

Anyway. There's plenty more where all that came from - like "email address for Janel Moloney" - oh, to have that information, which I would most certainly not broadcast. But I feel flattered that my blog was where Google thought people should come for that information.

It's late, though, so you'll have to wait - on the edge of your seats, no doubt.