This is my first blog in six weeks and I wonder where the time has come. Have you ever chased bubbles in the air? As you chase them, so the flow of the air around your hand wafts them away from your grasp. And if do grasp a bubble, what do you have? For a fleeting moment there is a sensation of sorts, but then it is gone. Evaporated. The secret, of course, is to choose your bubble and to wait for it to come to you. You have no guarantee that it will. A wisp of a breeze is all it takes. Nature and the elements play a part in whether you get the bubble you want.
In the order of things, we are but bubbles of varying sizes, colours and patterns, plainly visible when captured by a sunbeam. Our time and passing of little more substance than a bubble. So what are we do as time slips from our grasp, yes, like a bubble? I have come to the conclusion that we all have to find our answer to this eternal question. Just as we are individually unique when come into the world, so it when we leave. Some don't want to know. Some want to be in charge and, some, of which, I suspect I am one, will allow ourselves to be carried along, just a like a bubble, by the breeze in the hope that we make a gentle landing and just go 'pop'.
Perhaps it is thoughts like these, unsaid, which give rise to the cry 'Live for the day'? We all have our mechanisms for living with life. If we are the bubbles, then I love bubbles. Have you ever noticed how some bubbles fuse? Become one. Others touch and stick together. Increasingly, I find myself asking the question 'What do I want?'. The answer is unremarkable things, of which I will blog on another day.
For now, this will have to suffice, as I wrestle with the competing demands of local history, a blog, a website, domestic routine and things that go undone and unsaid.
In the study, which will be published next month by the civil liberties group, Watch, at least 10 Britons are identified who have been allegedly tortured in Pakistan and subsequently questioned by UK intelligence officials.