Transcendence 3

Transcendence, in the sense of "extending or lying beyond the limits of ordinary experience", is hardly a word in common use and I can only remember deploying it once in a formal setting when, as a student of Political Institutions at Keele, I presented a paper in a tutorial in which I used the word to describe an element of a political philosophy. This was in the days when a 'paper' was hand-written on foolscap and had to be taken to the library where yellowing copies were produced to be handed out to other tutorial members. I recall the tutor pouncing on the word and demanding a definition, and his evident pleasure when I could define it, and also explain why I had applied it to the particular philosophy.

So if one looks back on a life to seek out its transcendental moments, the most significant are probably the ones which involve infatuation for another person - not love, which to me is a long-term, deep affection, nor the ecstasy in sex, but those periods in a relationship when an overwhelming attraction becomes almost totally consuming.

This is one such moment, as Gill and I stood at the entrance to Cranham church after our wedding. I simply could not believe that this girl had just agreed to be with me for the rest of our lives and consequently could not take my eyes - or my hands - off her. Incidentally, I also like the picture for other reasons: Gill had made her wedding outfit; and my mother is in the background in the red hat, doing what she always did so well - talking to people.

In fifty-four years together there have been many other transcendental moments, not least those four occasions when Gill had just just produced a baby and we together inspected another small being whom we hoped would be happily with us for many years to come. This picture, taken at Cranham, happens to be Elizabeth but only because it's the only photo I have of any of our children as very small babies which has just the three of us in it. Also, it's good to remember the days when my hair didn't contain any grey.

To be able, at my stage in life, to sit quietly and recall such moments is one of the great pleasures of the waning years of a life. I am fortunate in the knowledge that, if I spent more time at it, I would be able to remember so many more.