The problem with making a choice is that we are restricted in so many ways. It's an obvious point, but it is one worth pondering.
When I need to decide what to wear in the morning, there are limitations imposed upon me, not least that I cannot wear anything that isn't already contained within my wardrobe. Of the billions of garments collected on the earth, I am restricted to what? Thirty?
My other problem is temporal: I can't know that I'm going to spill lunch down my top in five hours, and so wearing white isn't the best idea I've ever hit upon.
Such trivial problems magnify themselves more seriously when we make choices which impact upon the direction of our lives.
When asked by a partner whether I'd ever want to give her children, I found myself restricted by the 'wardrobe' of my previous experience. It contained only one garment therein: a shiny, overshadowing NO! which no human could ever hope to topple, so far was its base rooted into the floor of my being.
Furthermore, when the declaration of NO! was made so forcefully, it was made with the conviction that the status quo which had prevailed throughout the life of your author would continue without end.
What the conscience can stand now is what the conscience will be able to tolerate forever more - it is on this basis that we arrive at conclusions, and put them into action.
Hence, when a series of small children, all of them in their own way delightful and amusing, make themselves known, an examination and refutation of the principles which resulted in the earlier reticence takes place.
Two years ago, when pushed under a canvas sky in Africa, I had no idea that by the autumn of 2008, I'd have changed my mind about little humans so conclusively.
