What else could thew letter P be?
Pam, Pamela. The lady who gave me life and enabled me to be writing these very words, I never met her, that I can remember and yet still owe her everything. She set the ball rolling, she put the ducks in a line and enabled me to become the person I am today. Without her I wouldn’t be any thing at all, neither a memory nor an inkling of a passing thought.
The world would be without me and I without it. My cells were manufactured inside her body, totally. The Pamela Factory took 2 ingredients, mixed them together, copied the resultant mix trillions of times and hey presto I arrived. That ladies and gentlemen is the science behind building a person, a human bean, a boy who will then turn into a man. I can imagine the world without me but I can not imagine me without the world, without everything.
A chance meeting between 2 opposite cells, the egg (one of those) and a sperm (one of millions) met each other, liked each other and decided to get together. Its mad, really nuts. It still makes me shake my head in disbelief.
The creation of life really is a miracle, forget turning water into wine, or returning from the dead; Paul Daniels or David Blaine can do that, train hard enough I’m sure you could do it too, its all a trick, sleight of hand. But can anyone create life? Anyone apart from a mother? I don’t think so.
And so with that I would just like to say
I think we would have liked each other, I think we would have had a laugh together, I’m sorry to have not remembered meeting you, I wish I had.