I was sitting in the car park listening to a podcast about secular Buddhism. The car was parked in the hospital car park, and I was waiting.

...perhaps it's just that I was a child when swearing was first allowed on British television and I took to it like a pig to shit.

Thinking about what matters and what doesn't. 

I don’t understand much at all. This isn't some kind of introduction to a kind of stand-up routine, or some falsely-modest attempt at self-deprecation. I just don't understand much.

Life is fast.

Growing up was a good thing. Getting older was good. You could wear different clothes, make some decisions of your own. You could, one day, smoke cigarettes and drink alcohol, get married and drive a car.

I have this serious sense that I am about to be exposed as in some way inadequate. I am 53 years old and still, from time to time, wake from a nightmare that tomorrow I have a test for a course I never attended.

We are aliens in our own world, no different now, really, than when our pre-historic antecessors watched the Sun rise and the Moon set, wondering in fear when they would stop their mysterious motions.

It’s been an emotional few months. Well, an emotional life, really. What are we if not a mixing bowl of emotions? See? I told you.