I’m either getting old or losing my mind because the simplest of thoughts seems to set me off on a long journey of discovery these days.
There’s no doubt about the getting old bit, I admit, and with age comes a certain amount of reflection and doubts about the future.
Most of the time I’m too busy, tired or lazy to be worrying about anything deep or meaningful but in my quieter moments I seem to be doing this a lot more.
This week, for instance, I had just watched an interesting documentary on religion before taking a nice long, relaxing soak in the tub with Radox - and a cheeky glass of rose, for medicinal purposes you understand.
While I was lying back enjoying the tranquillity I spotted a massive spider on the wall. Now, I hate creep crawlies of any type and my first instinct was to give it a whack and kill it stone dead.
I don’t know if it was because I had God and the Ten Commandments swirling about my head after viewing that documentary or whether it was down to the wine I had in my hand, but I hesitated and let the spider go on about its business.
And that’s where my problems began as I started to get a bit morbid and I had to put my wine down to think this through.
Higher up the food chain than a tiny I spider I might be, but he had as much right to inhabit this planet as I do because he’s God’s creation too.
He, or she, being politically correct, wasn’t doing me any harm after all. I might need to dust down his, or hers, cobwebs in the near future but that’s no reason to kill anything.
I then started to think about my own existence and when my time would be up. Would it be that night in my sleep or 10, 20 or even 40 years from now. With the advances in modern science would I live to see my hundredth birthday?
And what will be the cause of my death? A plane crash, illness, hit by a bus or maybe even a tram if they ever arrive in Edinburgh? From there my thought process led me to the ultimate question - is there a God?
OMG what was happening here? Too many questions and not enough answers. I finally snapped out of my trance when goose pimples alerted me to the fact that the water had turned cold and went to bed distracting myself with a trashy novel. So that’s what they’re really for!
On my way to work the next day I stopped to give a beggar money, which, I must be honest, I never usually do. It just goes to show that a wee scare now and then, however big or small, can sometimes help you prioritise the important things in life.
I actually handed the beggar my last tenner and realised I had no money when I went to lunch that day. But I knew I’d be able to borrow some and I’d have a nice hot bath again that night. Unlike the poor chap who got my money.