Craic On

The Sceptic Tank, (slang for Yank, as in a person who hails from North America) told me that on a recent taxi journey her driver asked her about her blindness.  Her philosophy is to always engage as she’s educating the world about living with sight loss, one taxi driver at a time.  She set out the situation of the genetic time bomb, programmed to go off and trigger blindness just when you’ve bought a new car, and then tied it all up neatly in the richness of her life which is why she is not complaining.  The taxi driver suggested to her that if she put her faith in God, she would be cured. Sceptic Tank suddenly felt the need to pick up her emails and this would necessitate earphones. She excused herself from the conversation. The awkwardness was palpable. They both knew it. No doubt in an effort to relieve the tension, the taxi driver asked if she would mind if he put on the radio. She didn’t, so he did. Christian rock was not a genre Sceptic Tank was familiar with so when the tune of something that sounde