ABSTRACT
I have made mistakes. Some of these have been about trivial matters, such as the number of the bus that is still distant from the stop. Others have been about matters where I have lost out a bit, such as in lending money to someone I thought would return it. In others again, I have realised that I had picked up a belief, for instance about the geography of the town where I live, that I only much later subjected to scrutiny and found wanting. In these cases and others, the mistakes I made were put right by setting one bit of evidence against others: the bus approaches; the money does not come back; and the old theatre can be seen from the clocktower to take up more room than I would have expected. In one way, I should feel pleased with myself for having been prepared to correct my mistakes. But, in another, I might think that there is something wrong with me, something about my makeup that made me make the mistakes in the first place.
