Camp was already waiting for me and as soon as I sat down, he read me this little speech: ‘Here is one for ages: When the main course for your life’s evening dinner is money and power with a side dish of old age, accompanied by a bottle of your enemy’s blood, what’s for dessert? A bit of hate with some old, ripe grievances? Maybe some hostile revenge with a spot of envy? And when you finally lay down your spinning head full of meds and bad memories what is missing?’. 

‘Was that a quote or did you make it up after a bad day at the store?’

‘I had had it written down in my notes. Not sure but the essential question still remains.’

‘You mean what is missing in that cynic’s smorgasbord. Let me think. I would guess the meaning of it all.’

‘The meaning of life?’

‘If you like.’

‘I could go back to Carlyle or Goethe or Schopenhauer or Nietzsche or even Monty Python. They all had plenty to say and speculate about the meaning of life but the essence of life itself surely lies in the fact that we can celebrate it. With dance and art, stories, experiences and memories. The fact that we can overcome obstacles and suffering, illness and disease and live to tell the tale in many forms and mediums surely adds meaning to life.’

‘You’re in a philosophical mood today, Camp. What brought that on?’