I don't generally post photos here, but for Kate Stokes I'm going to make an exception. She was one of those people who was always cheerful, and also one of those people for whom the greater good - and that meant the poverty-stricken and planet earth - always came first.

Notice the use of the past tense. She died of hypothermia a week ago in the Picos de Europa, northern Spain. Full story here.

We were both in the University Mountain Walking Club at Bangor. I'll tell you a story about her when I've got a bit more time. I'm getting ready to go to Scotland and climb a few mountains myself.

I've been suffering from the Pepys Paradox again lately - so much interesting stuff has been going on that I've had no time to write about it. I'm now in Bangor for the weekend, so I'm going to work on a few entries.

But first I need to finish off some work. I'm in Scotland the week after next and I need to work up a frontlog, if you see what I mean. Before I do, I really must report on a couple of stories in today's Guardian.

First up: as you may be aware, the Church of England has actually done something useful. That would be news in itself, but the reaction has been far funnier. The CofE has flogged its stake in Caterpillar, Inc. because it doesn't like bankrolling the people who make the bulldozers than knock down Palestinian homes. So far, so good. But gormless Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks has been moaning about this in the Jewish Chronicle, claiming that being deprived of shelter and security and/or being crushed under the tracks of earth moving machinery is actually good for small Palestinian children (or something like that - who really listens in detail to religious leaders? It's all 'God this, God that' - no bloody wonder we all switch off.)

The funniest bit of Doc Sacks' wrath was directed against the Guardian itself. Not long ago, the paper published a couple of features comparing Israeli treatment of Palestinians to the old South African policy of Apartheid. Apparently:

A delegation from the Board of Deputies of British Jews met [Guardian] editor Alan Rusbridger to express concern that the articles would increase anti-semitic attacks.

I can almost see it: loosely-organised battalions of Guardian readers, crazed on uppers and death metal, all lacing up their bovver boots, putting on their Nazi armbands and rushing out to torch the nearest synagogue. It's a vision from hell and it could come true.

The other top story concerns former nurse Christine Mitchelson, who has been struck off the nursing register after she

put a patient's glass eye in a ward sister's drink [..and..] painted a smiley face on another patient's fist-sized hernia...

Given my recent experiences with the NHS - shortly to be described - I have to admit that she doesn't sound as if she's cut out to be a ministering angel. But forget that. Let's get out the Comedy Register and, by golly, strike her name on it in big, red letters. It's not often we meet genius anymore.

It says something about me - and not necessarily something that's good, especially from the point of view of the Earthman Genome - that when left alone in a house with an Internet-connected computer I spend hours looking at porn.

Before we go any further, it's probably best to drop in a few qualifiers here. During these sessions, I type with both hands. Secondly, the material I favour can all be found on a single website: Wikipedia.

Now, to the casual thinker, my compulsion to surf, fascinated, between Wiki links is very different from sitting here slavering at mocked-up Britney nudes while conducting the solo symphony. But it isn't. It has all the hallmarks of a shameful addiction. Is it compulsive? Yes it is. Do I 'lose' hours of my time doing it? Yes I do. Does it affect my work? Sometimes. Do I think about it at inappropriate moments? I do. If a friend or family member walks into the room while I'm doing it, do I hastily close the browser window and pretend to be working? Most certainly.

I can't bring myself to seek treatment because no treatment is available and it's a habit I don't want to kick. Many addictions have their under-publicized upsides, as the wine connoisseur alcoholic will tell you. The upside of mine is that I'm fucking unstoppable in pub quizzes.

...And this. And him. Sometimes you come across something really amazing that you know is going to live in your brain forever.

It's not often the people of Denmark get to spark off an multinational diplomatic incident, so I'm guessing they must be pretty pleased with themselves tonight.

The Danish daily Jyllands-Posten has got itself into a lot of trouble by publishing a collage of cartoons of the prophet Mohammed, something that a lot of Muslims - who don't like to see their prophet represented on paper - are getting very cross about. The ambassadors of several Muslim countries have been making complaints, people in Pakistan have gone on strike, and the usual death-threats have been made. Interestingly, protesters have been burning Danish dairy products, which says something at least for their determination. Immolating a pint of semi-skimmed must present a considerable challenge for even the most experienced Jihadi.

According to the Wikipedia article I've linked above, the paper's culture editor has this to say:

The modern, secular society is rejected by some Muslims. They demand a special position, insisting on special consideration of their own religious feelings. It is incompatible with temporal democracy and freedom of speech, where you must be ready to put up with insults, mockery and ridicule. It is certainly not always equally attractive and nice to look at, and it does not mean that religious feelings should be made fun of at any price, but that is less important in this context. [...] we are on our way to a slippery slope where no-one can tell how the self-censorship will end. That is why Morgenavisen Jyllands-Posten has invited members of the Danish editorial cartoonists union to draw Muhammad as they see him. [...]

A virtuous weakness of post-Enlightenment western culture is that it has no mechanism for dealing with heresy against itself. If a Catholic stood up in the middle of mass and said,

hang on - I'm worshipping a biscuit. Am I bonkers? Let's drop this crazy biscuit veneration and just enjoy the cool things about religion, like jumble sales and Friday night discos for the kiddies!

he'd be chucked out as punishment for his refusal to accept the whole package of his faith. In a western democracy I can take advantage of Enlightenment-derived freedom of religion to believe any crazy old shit I like - (the biscuit will save us from sin!) - but if I decide not to subscribe to the whole package of live-and-let-live attitudes I'm not denied their protection.

I'm not arguing for any sort of militancy, because you only have to read the comment pages of The Guardian these days to realise that liberal fascism is only marginally preferable to theocracy. But let's not be afraid of using the tools the Enlightenment gave us to defend the whole project. Let's stick up for Voltaire, for Locke, Tom Paine and for Gibbon. And let's, the next time religionists tell us what we can and can't print and Tony Blair tries to gag us all with his foolish religious hatred bill, celebrate our freedom of speech with a raspberry and a grand 'fuck you'.