Fresh air
I was not aware of taking my first breath and I will not be aware of my last, but all the others were precious.
History
Lifting veils
The process of ageing is one of lifting the veils, one by one, that hide the number of stupid people in the world, until you see clearly the horror, then you die.
Excavations
Fragments of time just keep emerging from my brain like finds from archaeo- logical digs brought to the surface for study. I turn them over in my mind’s eye but they seem to form no pattern, no clues to a lost dark age.
Losers
The sign at the Supermarket checkout proudly said “new winners every day”, which is a much better deal than we all get at the Life checkout.
Dustbin
I am as certain of the non-existence of a god as I am of the non-existence of mermaids, werewolves, goblins, yowies, easter bunnies, pixies, bunyips, jack frost, unicorns, yetis, tooth fairies, minotaur, leprechauns, father xmas, nessie, gorgons, poltergeists, dragons, aliens, and ghosts.
Payment due
Writing a memoir is a life’s work. It has to be earned by the lines of your face, the wrinkles of your hands, the night fears of your sleep, the weariness of your brain, the failing of your body, and finished just in time.
Philatelic thoughts
Sometimes, when I am sorting my old English postage stamps, I wonder if this one or that one was a stamp my great great grandfather might have used.
Philatelic thoughts Read More »
Seasons
Plumes of smoke on a cold Winter’s day bring thoughts of warmth and community and human busyness and achievement. Plumes of smoke on a hot Summer’s day bring thoughts of destruction and terror and loss and anger and failure.
Mine
I wonder what he was thinking, that first man who chewed a mouthful of pigment and then blew it over his hand pressed tight against the wall of a cave?