LIFE is a blip in the cosmos. That little saying came to me out of the blue. I don't know quite how or why, but a lot of great sayings and observations must happen in much the same way.

I suppose my particular statement was floating past at just the right time and my mind reached out and grabbed it. Very profound and philosophical, I think. But then it's been that kind of week.

Following a lot of thought, the profundities of God, the cosmos and the meaning of life must come about in the same way. What's more, it can happen to anyone, anywhere.

Take that bloke who was in the bathtub, pondering. He shouted "eureka" and despite the fact that he had no clothes on, ran home to scrawl the answer to this dilemma on to a piece of parchment.

I would point out here that my clothes were on when my great thought for this week came to me. August should be warm enough to don linen trousers and a short-sleeved top, but this month has had a blip of its own. In fact, the whole summer been a blip this year.

I've noticed that these profound thoughts referring to life, the cosmos, and all that, only come floating past at certain times, such as when you realise how fragile it all is. I was walking through our local churchyard while thinking this.

A lot of the names on old gravestones mean nothing to me, though not all; some are recognisable as being the ancestors of families still living in the village. Some are more familiar and bring back fond memories.

There's humour among these stones, cheerful memories of what people used to be when I knew them. Revealing no names, there's one proud Welshman who came into our bar one night quite out of puff. He was telling my husband that he'd been up on a particular hilly pasture chasing his sheep. Husband responded that he'd heard the pastime was a peculiarly Welsh one. Luckily, said gentleman had a sense of humour. So I smile at his resting place.

His wife's recently joined him. She produced the best Yorkshire puddings I'd ever tasted; I think the fact that she hailed from said northern outpost had something to do with it.

I also remember her helping me with a wedding one hot and busy Saturday. We were producing a carvery and had been on our feet all day. In desperate need of relief, we filled an old galvanised bath with cold water, dragged out a couple of old chairs and sat with our feet in the water. I tell you now, it was absolute bliss. Sheer bliss.

Life carries on all around; molehills dot the grassy green around the church and the rabbits munch at the long grass. Unnoticed by crocodiles of intrepid walkers with big boots and walking sticks, a colony of bees (or it might be wasps) have set up home in a grating in the wall of the nave. Brown trout jump in the river and the wild fowl remain aloof until the weather turns colder and stale bread is preferable to no food at all.

The big cat hasn't been seen for a while, but we're all sure it does exist. Like life, he (or she) is one of those blips that we can't quite explain away.

It's stopped raining, so I'm going shopping.

So endeth the profound thoughts for this week.