The nights are drawing in and low grey clouds brought a heavy gloom to a cold Sunday. I opened my copy of the Observer only to read Nick Cohen writing about the benefits of death. It's November all right.
Cohen doubts the value of extended longevity, given the decline in the quality of life that comes with ageing. I am constantly surprised to find myself to be in my late middle age and, at this time of life, I simply can't agree. I can only think that, whatever the indignities of old age, I will let go of the wonderful privilege of life with the greatest reluctance, resenting deeply the forthcoming oblivion of non-existence.
An extravagant love of life lies at the heart of a sense of justice; anger at the cruelties of the world, at those who, due to their psychopathologies, megalomania, or attachment to malign ideologies, would drain the joy of life from others. So let's relish the sensuousness of existence and when our time is up be very pissed off indeed.