There’s a big blanket of cloud hanging on top of the Divis mountain in West Belfast. The sky all around is a puffy, dirty grey and my cold is finally lifting.
I am listening to Gilbert Becaud, Jacques Brel and Edith Piaf. I find french singing very expressive, and M. Brel can be as ironic as he likes, I still feel the raw emotional impact of Ne me quitte pas.
Who do I support in the global warming debate? Well, I don’t think that there is any doubt that human activity involving fossil fuels has raised temperatures and is shrinking the polar icecap. For me, there is no debating the readily available evidence.
It’s a bit like Darwin’s explanation of evolution. It’s not a theory, in the sense that any sane person would not dispute the logical links made between his research and the conclusions he came to. Otherwise we might just as well offer up Newton’s laws of nature and call them mere theories.
My theory of cold remedy involves honey, lemon, boiling water, paracetamol and spiced rum. A neighbour has recommended a local health shop that charges £15 for some special preparation with a weird name. £13 for Morgan’s spiced rum got my vote, and helped strengthen the Piña coladas last night.