Ask not
Clive James and Jonathan Miller are dead? What is that bell I hear tolling?
literature
Believe it or not
Convince someone to believe in an imaginary creature who lives in the sky and takes an interest in the outcome of football games and the purchase of lottery tickets and the number of survivors in airplane crashes, and you can get them to believe in anything.
Turn back time
Wouldn’t it be good if we could go back in time at will, to any part of our lives, in turn, and fiddle, adjust, undo, redo, make better, make amends, set right, streamline, straighten course, enjoy, savour, say goodbye, say hullo, say thank you, all with the benefit of hindsight. Or would it?
My way or the highway
All of us, really, have one track minds. Some of us, though, are happy to explore side tracks, exit signs, underpasses, overpasses, lay-bys, and alternate scenic routes. And some of us aren’t.
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Tell, a story
In the ancient city mounds of the Middle East, flat layers of mud, one on top of the other, are the squashed remains of houses and streets, flat like pages in a history book, the lives of people in each generation, reduced to a few inches of mud baked in a thousand years of Sun
Drip, drip, drip
As we grow older small invisible pores form in our skulls and from them (like holes in water tanks) drip thoughts and ideas, and memories of recent times (being closer to surface of the mind), and wit and concentration, and names of people once known like brothers and sisters, and new appointments, and old research
Knuckling down
When I was just a soft boy child I would take my bag of marbles, bought sparingly with well earned pocket money, to the schoolyard and lose them all to boys with hard knuckles and much harder eyes. Was it a lesson for adult life? Yes but I failed to learn from it.