Not the most impressive weekend in terms of humanity's ability to coexist. Friday full of possible nailbombs outside London nightclubs and Saturday brought thwarted Glasgow airport bombings and madmen in flames chanting fanantical beliefs. I was talking to children in Borders Books as the loaded Jeep crashed into the concourse. It was the first day of the Scottish school holidays, so the bombers's targets were mainly children. Similiar children to the ones I was telling stories to in a nameless, faceless mall full of mindless shoppers consuming and consuming as if there was no tomorrow.
No-one comes out well in this. We're all sleepwalking. What is going to wake us up to our lives?
Imagine. We're in the queue. We're marvelling at the acid-rain eroded pearls on the golden gates and wondering if a lifetime's nihilism and atheism are going to exclude our entry through and into the Kingdom we never really believed in. Swapping moment-of-death stories with our fellow humans in the queue, we ask - what were you doing when it all went black and the world ended?
I'd be so pissed off if my last moments had been spent in a mall being a mindless consumer.Or standing in a check-in queue, or waiting at a ten-deep bar in some crowded club. Actually, given my age, the last option is somewhat unlikely. I want to go out as I came in. Naked. Innocent of harm. Close to someone I love more than anything. And if it could be in a green place - a wild place, a mountain, a sea, a forest...Close to the earth that sustained us all. Our beautiful home planet.
Back to the queue. Imagine. Some people are going to be soooo smug. The ones, you know them, the ones with wee metal fishes next to the maker's marque on thier rear bumpers. The Alpha course devotees. They've paid their dues. They've done the time and are now in line for Membership Rewards bigtime. The rest of us are stuffed. We're headed for the Big Toaster.
On this happy note, I'm off to slather on the factor 90. Maybe I'll slither off the end of the pitchfork.