How The Light Gets In

By the time you read this, I’ll be on one of the three trains I have to take to get to Hay-on-Wye, in order to make my third appearance at the How The Light Gets In philosophy festival there.  You may ask, how far has Western society fallen, that I would not only be invited to speak at a philosophy festival, but invited back, more than once?  Oh, yeah, we are all beyond screwed.

(As is the British rail system – this used to be a two-train journey.)

I am, in fact, in no shape to do this trip.  My arse has been in this chair in front of this laptop since Jan 2 and I’ve had maybe three days off since then.  Dragging my arse through this country’s broken train system to uncertain accomodation in a flood-prone area on a forecast stormy weekend is not quite what I needed.  Still, I can feel several people giving me a hard stare for being a miserable hermit, so let’s give it a go.  And if I die in a river on the edge of civilisation it’s your fault.  Yes, you.

 

I’m packing my FIRE HD 8 tablet (UK) (US) because I need to rewatch some work by a director before I get lunch with him on Tuesday.  (Hi!)  It’s actually a great little portable video device.  That and the Kindle Paperwhite are all the tech I’m taking.