I've thought a lot about luck lately. Admitting that you've been lucky is not the done thing these days. We're all masters of our own destiny. The centre of all things. But there are many twists and turns in the winding track for us carbon-based life-forms and there's always some blind corner to surprise us...
I often think about a poem called 'The Fly' by William Blake. It's a summer's day and Blake carelessly brushes away a fly from his hand. But then he thinks to himself:
'Am not I a fly like thee?
For I dance
And drink, and sing,
Till some blind hand
Shall brush my wing.'
So far I've been lucky. Touch wood. I hope you are too.