When you accept that there's no boat to miss; no grand plan; no judgement; no salvation; no retribution; when you realise the utter futility of it all, hope disappears, and with it fear.
And finally you are free.
Here's a picture I took on our weekend break.
This is the cottage we didn't stay at.
Notice the owl on the house next door.
It's not a real owl. It's made of stone, and I guess it is to frighten away seagulls who might otherwise shit on the roof.
Canny folk, the Welsh.
The place we did stay at was halfway up a mountain. (would a pessimist say it was halfway down a mountain? Who knows, and who cares? Well, I do, for one, because these philosophical conundrums fascinate me.)
I'm off to bed.
George
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