It's been a weekend of goodbyes. Lots of them. I have to admit that some of them were harder than others, but saying goodbye is always hard in some way. One of them was so unexpected, I certainly wasn't prepared for it. I found myself in Church on Friday night to see a friend's son confirmed. I was really pleased I went along, as he's turned into a very impressive young man. I wish him well as he makes his way in life and as he starts to say goodbye himself to his childish preoccupations and grows to maturity. But as I stood and sat (I didn't kneel, heathen that I am) in the church, and listened to the service, and looked around at all the trappings of christianity, I came to the simple inescapable conclusion that I am a confirmed atheist. I simply don't believe in God or organised religion. Not a bit of it.

I wonder how many people have gazed up at the cross in a church and had the same thought - that this really means absolutely nothing to me. As I stared up at the figure, I said my goodbyes to what remained of my religious beliefs. It was a strange feeling. I tried to put my finger on it, and I realised that the feeling was in fact guilt. A twinge of good old fashioned god fearing guilt. And then it was done. That guilty feeling simply underlined why I reject this and all religions. Why would I feel guilty at thinking this, just because I was in church? There simply is no rational reason, and the guilt comes from years of indoctrination that someone, something, some God, was monitoring what I thought and did at all times. But somehow if I really believed in all this stuff that I saw and heard around me, believed in this one true God, then I'd be fine. But I don't believe. I have no faith to hold on to. Not a shred left. So on Friday night, I said goodbye to God.

That wasn't enough for one evening though. There was more. I headed across town, got lost somewhere in Bexley, before finding the venue for my next goodbye. There were lots of smiles. Plenty of laughing. More than enough drinking. A different kind of goodbye. A smile, a hug, a kiss and a twinge of regret and it was done. Back home to bed, to get up for the next day's goodbyes.

An early start after a restless, sleepless night, kept awake by the sound of my own thoughts. I'm fairly sure it wasn't God keeping me awake. He doesn't exist, remember? The next goodbye was to my erstwhile house mate as he moved into a shared flat with another friend. I spent the day helping them move, and as I did I discussed the goodbyes of the previous day with one of them. As we talked, it seemed to me that as each day goes on, I'm in the process of saying another goodbye. A long goodbye to my youth, if you like.

It's not something I'm concerned about. Quite the contrary, I'm actually quite pleased that I'm becoming more comfortable in myself as I approach a new time in my life. I'm not keen on staying out all night drinking. I'm not likely to go to night clubs. Shhh. Don't tell anyone but I think I quite like acting my age. That's not so bad. But things are definitely changing for me. I'm quite certain that I've said goodbye to a lot of aspects of my life as a younger person.

With that amount of farewells in such a short amount of time, I escaped to the woods to mull over my thoughts. It was muddy. Glastonbury muddy to give you an idea. Despite the clocks going forward, I left quite late, so I had to walk as fast as my legs could carry me. The mud was therefore a challenge. In order to make it to Epping for sunset, I couldn't afford to get bogged down in the mud. As I walked, as I thought about the previous two days, I constantly struggled with the mud. I found the best way to deal with it was to keep up the pace and plough on regardless. Any other way meant that I got stuck, or slid about. In any case, it would hold me up as I pussy footed my way through. And with about 15 miles to walk, that could be an awful lot of pussy footing.

Saying goodbyes are hard, I thought to myself. But as I strode onwards through the mud, it occurred to me that you have two choices in dealing with it. You can dwell on what's gone before. Never let it go. Never move on and become bogged down in the the past. Or, alternatively, you move on, accept that change is good and find something new. The key to dealing with the mud was to move quickly through it. It's no different in life. Choose your path carefully, but move swiftly. Don't hang about and keep moving forward.

I stopped in the quietest bit of the forest and listened to the birds singing and the rain falling on last summer's fallen leaves. The sun barely illuminated the tops of the tallest trees. Time moves relentlessy onwards. Things change. People change. Seasons change. We all change. Its part of what makes life so good.