With fascination I’ve followed this week’s breaking news. (Well, here in Sweden. Keep in mind that we’re a small country) In a horrid act of pillage, a group of British scientists are planning on abducting one hundred – yupp, one hundred – of our bumblebees and taking them back to the UK. Okay, so we’re […]
Oh God, what a platitude! Any moment now I’ll go on to primly point out that nothing is more important than HEALTH, and … Nope. I was thinking more along the line of those microscopic moments of unadulterated joy at being alive & human that (I hope) most of us experience at the strangest times.
It’s a scary world at times. Okay, so the world has always been scary. Back in the old, old days people were scared of cave bears, or of breaking a leg and being left behind while the tribe moved on. In more recent times, it was sort of scary to consider dying by crucifixion. (Relatively
This time of the year, I wake every morning around five as my bedroom bathes in early morning light. For a couple of minutes I feel so totally alive, sunlight dancing through the uncovered windows, birdsong in the trees just outside. A couple of heartbeats of absolute contentment, a wordless prayer of gratitude and then
There is a little park close to where I live. Once the grounds of a stately home, the park is graced by gigantic beeches, huge trees that now in spring unfurl leaves of such a light green it is almost phosphorescent. There is a small clearing in this park, and smack in the centre of
Personally, I’d die of fright if a tinny, faraway voice were to respond “yeeeeees there is.” Obviously the probability of our planet being the single repository of life in the universe is so low it’s ridiculous. There has to be life somewhere, no? And lucky them; one day Voyager will crash on their planet and
Today I caught sight of my hand. Okay, okay, I see my hand all the time, but today I actually LOOKED at it. A shaft of spring sunlight illuminated every crease, every vein, and it was with some dismay I concluded I must be getting old. Well, maybe not old, but definitely older. I turned
… write anymore. At least not the old-fashioned way, with pen put to paper, the paper carefully folded to fit into the envelope that always (always!) was a bit too small, stamps, address on the front, RTS on the back and off it went. These days, the only envelopes I get contain bills – or promotional material