In my dotage, I tend to spend more time contemplating Eternity and considering the good reasons for believing in God and an afterlife. Call it the John Donne syndrome - a youth spent in dissolution (Youth?? Still going on in my seventies?!), followed by quiet contemplation as the sap subsides, and a realisation that there is joy to be had at a slightly higher level than the groin.
Which is why, today, I had another of those joyous epiphanic moments when you realise that there is a Divine Purpose after all. I am talking about the Women's Singles at Wimbledon. Watching the match between Venus Williams and Naomi Cavaday, it was borne in upon me that tits and thighs like those cannot possibly be the result of a random collision of molecules.
So there. I am a Believer. Better late than never. And thank you, God.