I’m not one for attempting to uncover the mysteries of life.
To be honest, there’s so much about the universe that you’d need to be Stephen Hawking or Brian Cox to understand that I question whether it’s even worth trying.
I won’t insult my own lack of intelligence by trying to talk about quantum physics, entropy or Archimedes’ buoyancy principle... I will, however, tell you how absolutely baffled by the concept of evolution I am.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not nay-saying it – all we have to do is put Lee Evans and a chimpanzee next to each other and we can see Darwin’s law in motion – I just find it remarkable that certain creatures have developed in such bizarre ways.
At the weekend we went to the zoo to celebrate my niece’s second birthday. Before we started on the picnic (enter lashings and lashings of lemonade and so on) we had a couple of hours meeting the animals.
There was a white tiger (rather cool), a white wallaby (are you sensing a theme here) and an array of tortoises (guess what colour... ok... not white).
These tortoises were huge. They had mouths that looked like they had been cut with a Black and Decker Jigsaw and the looks on their faces suggested that they knew more than they were letting on.
There were birds there that, when they opened their wings, looked like majestic feathered Angels-of-the-North and, in the far corner of the petting zoo area, a group of camels who looked like they were huddled together for an essential business meeting.
We humans have a knack of making out we’re the centre of the universe and that everything on planet Earth is there for our benefit. We’ve built on every inch of available land and prioritised our own rules and laws.
It’s not until you spend time with some of the globe’s other inhabitants that you realise how small a part of it we really are.