The Girl Who Didn't Know What To Believe

all believed different things, and had different ways of deciding
what was true.
All through this Grandpa sat with his eyes closed, patting
her feet, and occasionally opening one eye to look at
her. He said nothing until she had finished, and then neither
of them said anything, but just moved slowly to and
fro, as if the swing was also unsure of what to think, and
was being rocked this way and that by everyone’s opinions.
“I pop into hospital for a few days, and look what happens
when I come out!,” he said, “It sounds as if you’ve
had an adventure just like explorers in the past who used
to sail across the seas without knowing what they’d find.
Would they find lions or kangaroos or sea snakes or volcanoes
or the edge of the world? But your adventure has
been looking inside other people’s heads, which is just as
exciting, with far less chance of being eaten or buried in
molten lava or falling off into space! I’ve always loved that
adventure, it’s what I’m doing when I’m reading my philosophy
books.” He looked across at Meritxell’s mother, and
added, “I often think of it like gardening. Thoughts sprout,
as if from nowhere, and unless I pay attention, everything
gets all tangled up and overgrown. So I spend time here or
there trying to keep it in some sort of order, but it feels as
if I’m managing it rather than really being in control. And
that feels enough.”
“Do you know who Hume is named after?” Grandpa
said after another pause, one eye opening. Meritxell knew
it was a Scotsman, because Grandpa had told her that, but
that was all. “It’s one of my favourite philosophers,” continued
Grandpa. “Someone who was above all practical, and
if ideas became too airy fairy, he had no time for them. He
76