These boots are made for walking

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m2fPkzJsMU8

I have a love - hate relationship with shoes. Give the choice I will go barefoot or wear leather flip flops all of the time, but of course in the winter that is really not a practical option. I do have two pairs of shoes that I actually wear, and both of these are really coming to the end of their periods of usefulness, which means that I'll have to replace at least one pair.   That means a. going to shoe shops and b. trying things on. The former I do not enjoy and the latter I find quite hard as it it difficult to reach my feet.

Nowadays people have shoes for every purpose.  Trainers costing a small fortune have replaced pumps which didn't, and it seems that every activity has its own specially designed footwear.

As a child we may have had one pair of shoes for school/best, and a pair of slippers. Outdoors we wore wellington boots most of the year round, not the green ones, just plain black wellies. Buying shoes as fashion statements was not even a dream and even my sister had a very limited selection to choose  from.  There was no money for shoes and no storage space either and so we contented ourselves with  what we had.

Then came the sixties and it seemed that all changed. For many of us that was when we began to care about how we looked. Haircuts, for example, became battle grounds with fathers. I was sent every two weeks for a short back and sides, until one day I decided that I was going to have a "Boston". That began the transition. Baggy denims changed to skin tight pale blue jeans and normal footwear became winkle pickers, long pointed toes that were derided by the parental generation.  Having said that, I never really had the shoes that I wanted; mostly they were beyond my budget and so I have always settled for what I could afford.

At school, we were forced into membership of the Army Cadet Force, which I didn't much care for, and hd to wear a dreadful uniform that included gigantic and inflexible hobnailed boots. This had to be kept rigorously clean and were also a  centre of conflict on a regular basis. I kept them for years afterwards and used them for pot holing.  

It doesn't bother me anymore. few things do, but I do look forward to warmer days when I can manage without having to  put on socks.

Home thoughts

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bW5M5xljdCI

My first bid for freedom came in 1965. I applied for the RAF. I n those days, if you were not considered good enough for university, you were bundled off into nursing, the police force or the services. Opting for the latter I found myself being offered an interview at RAF Biggin Hill, which is strangely just down the road from where I am now. It was however a long way from my home and not just geographically. They sent travel warrants and directions and so I set off on what for me was a huge adventure.  The outcome of the interview I have talked about before, but the feeling of being away from home, despite my desire to escape, was ambivalent to say the least.

I know that I need a base, I need home comfort and the familiarity of things around me. I like to know where things are and where I am.  Unlike many people these days I do not have a wanderlust. It seems that there are many who are always going somewhere and who never really arrive.  I do feel bad though that my wife feels very differently and that I hold her back. 

We have travelled a little in the past, but never in a truly adventurous way. I wish sometimes that I could be different but I know that I can't. My heart is just not in it.  Car travel was ok but now I cannot drive, that pleasure has gone, and so I am limited really to being driven or taking public transport, which is either unreliable or uncomfortable or both.

Travelling around is a fairly modern phenomenon; in the past it was limited to the wealthy and those with nothing much else to do. Now relatively cheap air fairs and package tours make that possible for so many, and the skies are filled with metal tubes, polluting the air and consuming huge amounts of fossil fuels.  People thrust together by choice in glob trotting pseudo adventures, dragging themselves out of their daily routines, only to recreate those routines in a different location.

I wonder how many people fly out to exotic places and spend the days lying on the beach, or sitting by the pool reading a book?  Ok it is nice to experience a different culture but you can do that wandering around any big city in this country.

I have yet to visit anywhere that did not have flaws. There is no paradise, everywhere has advantages and disadvantages and on balance I think that this country is not so bad.

ps - the track above was filmed in 1969 at the great Woodstock festival.

The end of the world as we know it

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ODqj9Mq39FM

An historic day in an historic era. The most powerful nation in the world has become a dangerous joke in the eyes of the world. For years the west has been mocking the leader of Both Korea but now we have clowns in charge of both the UK and the USA and neither of them is at all funny. Both we and the USA are hitting the brakes on black ice with no one in charge who has any idea how to control what is happening.  Both countries are being led by people with minority support and yet who have emerged from the democratic process like frogs from a pond.

They wonder why they are mocked and derided, they get away with aiding their own, but for how long can either continue. Trump has a huge swell of middle America set against him, mainly the educated, and yet these are the very same people that he claims to represent. Nobody seems to want to align themselves with him today, and he has found it hard to find any acts to help celebrate his inauguration, and that should be a warning sign. Many of the big celebrity bands are high earners and probably Republicans and yes they are keeping so far away, they might as well be in Moscow. 

I cannot bear to watch today's events as they unfold. It is bad enough watching our own prime minister who has even less dress sense than I do, drowning in the Brexit swamp and promising things that she and her patty have no intention of delivering.

The growing nations, China for example, must be rubbing their hands in glee as the west degenerates into a pathetically chaotic state, and maybe it is their turn. Unfortunately I cannot imagine that the USA would go down without a fight, Armageddon seems like a possibility once more.

Fashion

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aj3bkqhUQM0

I have never been accused of being a dedicated follower of fashion. Those who know me, generally see me wearing Jeans and tee shirt or a top designed for comfort.  My own take on fashion was to a great extent imposed upon me by never having enough money to do otherwise, and thus my attitude was formed.

I know that fashions drive the consumer market and thus keep certain industries afloat and alive, and for that reason they are justifiable, but look into any  women's magazine or sunday supplement and you will see the most ludicrous things being sported by androgynous models; items that no sane person would ever be seen in public are held up as haute couture, stretching credibility well beyond breaking point.

Of course it is not just clothes that are subject to the pressures of fashion.  Recently it has become fashionable in some circles to support right wing politics. This of course is driven by the highly dumbed down dailies that have appeal to many. In this country we have Brexit, in the USA they suffer Trump and in France they have Marine LaPenn. Inevitably these will go out of fashion but probably not until they have caused a great deal of damage.

Tattoos used to be the province of sailors, stevedores and prostitutes. Not any more.  Look at the bodies of many professional football players or second tier actors, their bodies adorned with ink. That of course has trickled along to ordinary people and tattoo  parlours are everywhere; some producing tasteful and artistic work, though many do not.

Recently, or so it seems, we have available all sorts of body adjustments available.  Liposuction, boob jobs, belly tucks, botox treatments, hair implants and so on, all designed to promote the illusion of a body beautiful as described by the fashion industry.  What a tragedy that people cannot be satisfied with what they have. 

Next week I am booked in to have my nipples resized.

No Man's Land

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cWhOO9Q323Y

No Man's Land is a work by Harold Pinter, first performed in 1975. We saw it last night, not up close and personal as it were but a live relay from a London theatre to screens all over.  We went to the theatre at Tonbridge School, a wonderful and rather plush theatre, the province of the school drama department.  Tonbridge is a high ranking public school and serves the needs of the wealthy, keeping their offspring in an opulence that state school students cannot even imagine.  I am sure that they have huge expectations of the students, after all they pay enough for the privilege.

Patrick Stewart and Ian McKellan were superb in this rather strange play; a mix of comedy, mystery and tragedy. There were moments of hilarity and also sadness, and the hole production was wonderful.  They of course received a standing ovation, though not in our theatre, and although forty years old, the play seemed timeless.

No man's land would seem to be a zone, somewhere between life and death. Maybe it is a metaphor for retirement in a way, or perhaps he intended a more spiritual element to it. There seemed echoes of the Caretaker and similarities to Beckett's Waiting For Godot.  I don't claim to have fully understood any of Pinter's plays and this was no exception. Maybe that is a good thing, after all we cannot hope to understand everything.

The sound of silence

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u9Dg-g7t2l4

One of the sad parts about getting older, is that one's ability to interact with the world diminishes. We slow down, we become more susceptible to everything. Our senses dim and abilities, both physical and mental wane and fade.

I struggle with short term memory at the moment, though it seems that long term memories are still intact,  I struggle to walk any distance,  I already have a plastic lens in one eye, an artificial hip, and have lost the hearing in one ear.  

We have had many discussions about mortality and approaching infirmity and I know that there are some things that I cannot and will not tolerate.  I could not cope with losing my sight or my hearing. I could not tolerate a life without music or books, and I will not go into a home of any description. I started my life in an institution and will not end it in that way.

There are so many people out there living lives that are intolerable to them. Some live for years trapped inside shells and asking for escape; the law of course will not allow assisted suicide and for some they do not have the ability to end their own lives, and need release from their intolerable situations.  The facility for dignified exits is not allowed in this country, largely due to the protests of groups with a strong religious leaning, most of whom are young and fit and able. None of them can possibly empathise with those trapped.

We should all be able to decide when we have had enough. The able bodied can make that choice, so why not everyone. Having an organisation like Dignitas would prevent so many botched attempts at suicide that leave people in a worse state than they were before.  I have an escape plan in place but I don't know if it will work; I guess that time will tell.

Substance abuse

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xxaOItEmu3U

Many people think of the sixties as a time of rebellion, exploration and rejection of the status quo, fuelled by a plethora of substances designed to enhance one's state of mind. They say that if you can remember the sixties you were not there.  

Escaping from home in 1967 was life changing for me and I confess to over indulging in alcohol on many occasions. I am not sure how I managed that on a very meagre income but we definitely had our moments. Beer was affordable in those days, wine less so.  Drugs at college were not obviously in use, at least not to me. I lived in hall and as such we were under more scrutiny than those who lived in other accommodations.  There was some pot around but for many of us it was best avoided as being caught would have led to the end of your place at college and the idea of going home again was not one to consider.

I first tried pot at my sister's place in Notting Hill. I remember sitting around in her flat listening to the Incredible String Band and sharing a joint.  It was a pretty good experience - the stuff was very strong and all four of us were pretty stoned by the end of it.  I did enjoy it but afterwards felt no need to try it again, though I did once or twice in later life, and on neither occasion did I enjoy it as much as that first time.

Harder drugs scared me, and I was never tempted to try anything, not that it ever came my way. I suppose in that sense I was lucky. Lives change on random meetings as we know, and i was fortunate to have met mostly good people.

Of course going into teaching is a good incentive to avoid anything illegal and so from 1970, alcohol became my only drug of choice. It remains so and I sometimes think that I drink too much or at least too often, and then I think what the hell and carry on anyway. I know that my body is falling apart and that sooner or later it will fail completely - it happens to us all.  I can't remember where the story came from but it goes like this - Someone was told, eat less, give up drink, give up smoking and you will live longer." The reply was "Why?"

Who knows where the time goes.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5sNPorNyME0

Much to my delight, I have reestablished contact with a dear friend from the past. We met at college in 1967 and have not had any contact site that time. The first year of college is a strange time I guess and it is one in which a transition takes place. The majority of us were straight from school, so eighteen years old and for many away from home for the first time. The reins were off and the new freedom gave us all scope to explore our own boundaries, or as they would say today, to find ourselves.

For many that year has become a gap year. We could not afford that luxury, but on the other had we did not have to pay huge sums for the time in college and therefore accrue huge debts. Rather like life, I arrived at college with nothing and left with nothing; having said that I met some wonderful people and thanks to them learned a lot about myself.

That year introduced me to many experiences. Until then I had not been to an orchestral concert, an opera or eaten a curry. My eyes and ears were opened to so much it seems impossible from where I sit now.  I'd like to say that I was educated in the official sense of the word, but I was never a good student; I like many of those that I gravitated to were more interested in the other things that college had to offer. Most of us passed of course, but it wasn't about exam success, it was about your competence to run a classroom or to impart a curriculum to children and to be mindful of their safety. A few were weeded out along the way, they just didn't appear again after a teaching practice and they probably found other more lucrative pathways and met other groups of people.

For me that group of people will always be with me. I hadn't thought of my friend for a very long time, but now her memory is crystal clear. I can recall her 18 yr old face, her voice and so much more. Memory is a strange thing and it seems a shame that when we die, those memories will die with us. I think that is why I write this blog; maybe some of my memories will be read buy others in time to come.  Who knows?

Im Abendrot

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ppoqUVlKkBU

In a few hours, 2016 will be consigned to the history books. In some parts of course it has already passed and much of the world is asleep in 2017.  It has been an interesting year in the Chinese curse sense.  Health issues apart, the rise of the right wing both here and abroad have raised spectres that most of us would like to forget, and now we have increased antagonism between the superpowers, fighting like children over their toys.  

The world should be uniting, there re so many problems that we face as a species and yet we continue along ridiculous isolationist pathways. The likes of Nicola Sturgeon have set in motion a very dangerous and undesirable cascade.

I wish my reader a happy New year. It is being delayed by a second but the inevitable will arrive for most of us just after midnight.  I don't suppose that 2017 will be much better for the planet than this one has been but we can still hope that people start thinking again.

At Sunset (Im Abendrot)

We've walked, hand in hand,
thought hardship and joy,
Now we both rest
from walking across the silent countryside.

All around us the valleys are fading,
it has already become dark. Just two larks are rising,
dreamlike into the heavens.

Stand here and let them fly about,
it will soon be time to sleep,
lest we go astray
in this loneliness.

Oh further, silent peace!
So profound at sunset.
How tired we are of travelling:
Is this perhaps death?

Christmas song

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I65_S78WHJY

Agricultural Caress

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8TAa1ghqKwc

Apart from the Archers, most of us have no idea about the realities of agricultural life and the nitty gritty of food production.  My own experience of farming was on a very small and inefficient farm back in the sixties. It was run by an alcoholic Irishman, though his son probably did most of the management. They had a small herd of cows and the rest of the operation seemed to be centred on them. How they made any money is anyone's guess and such enterprises probably no longer exist.

In those days everything we ate was seasonal. Well ok maybe we had Corned beef from Argentina and baked beans from the USA but most stuff was locally produced. Now we have any produce we like at any time of year and farms have become huge businesses and part of the global economy. It is the only way that enough food can be produced to feed the burgeoning population.

Farms are much like factories today, employing highly technical solutions to most processes and in some instances employing migrant workers on very low wages to do the jobs that machines cannot yet do.  having done many of those jobs myself, I can empathise with those people, but for many, a job of any kind is better than no job at all.

The farm that was a part of my childhood had its seasons and we would participate in most of the processes that went on; probably out of boredom more than anything else. We may not have been a very reliable workforce but neither were we paid. For us the work was an entertainment of sorts as well as an educative process.  I learned a lot of pretty useless stuff in school but the learning on a farm is about reality and that has stayed with me. I value and appreciate food because I know that producing it is a long and complex business and one that we should not take for granted.

Hell, fire and damnation

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lD_zuTjtKdI

I just got back from shopping.  I know that some people love it but I could see little evidence of that as I wandered aimlessly around the high street today.  Most people seemed as clueless and desperate as each other and as for christmas spirit - well!

Ok I put my hand up to being a bit of a scrooge on the surface, but underneath there is another one. It does seem to me that most people find this time of year very stressful, and while it benefits local shopkeepers to some extent, the real winners are the corporations who are. like gigantic hoovers, sucking people's hard earned money from them. People are as always spending money that they don't have, incurring debts for plastic crap that nobody needs and few want. We will buy huge amounts of food, much of which will go to waste, and all of this for one day of lunacy. Black bins will soon be piled high with garbage, and that holy of holy, the christmas tree will be heading for recycling and another bloody silly season will be done and dusted.  

In the meantime we smile and wish each other merry christmas and send off the usual pile of cards to people we never see and may think about once a year. We realise that we have forgotten some and have to get more cards to reciprocate, and so do they. It is a time when we find out who is dead and who is dying, who has split up and who have paired, who have reproduced and who has left the country. 

So for me the shopping is done, I won't disclose what I bought but I did find a Pratchett book that I haven't read and a really good DVD compilation of the Old Grey Whistle test in a charity shop. That takes the edge off a little.

Solid Ground

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nLqVWsSJC0o

I went to the grandchildren's nativity play this afternoon, and while it was delightful to see the kids perform and show their families what they have been working towards for the last few weeks, it struck me that they are all being prepared to take their places on the treadmill. Ok they have a few years to go yet, but they will be taught to compete, to value property and to fit into the machine that is our society. They will strive to succeed in jumping through whatever hoops are fashionable and hope to find employment that pays them enough to afford a mortgage, which they will spend the rest of their lives paying back. They will then  build homes which they will spend very little time in because they are too busy working to make money, and then at the end of it all their accumulated things will end up in black plastic bags and landfill. Their houses of course will be taken over by the next cohort coming through who will have to raise even more money because the prices of properties has gone up, and so it goes on. Welcome to the machine.

We own nothing. Property is a myth but it is a powerful one that the capitalist system depends upon; in the words used at most funerals, we bring nothing into the world and we sure as hell can take nothing out of it. We are stardust - all of us and simply passing through. Maybe we should think less about ownership and and more about sharing of what we have. You cannot own the land, the land owns you, and to it you will return.

Like a Rolling Stone

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-sftw5k_JRs

When I first heard this song in 1965/66, the world was a very different place and I was a very different person. I loved the song even though I had no idea what it was about. The concept of homelessness was alien to me; limited to the occasional "tramp" that would wander through the village. We'd give them tea and something to eat but then they would pass on and we probably never gave them another thought. It was seen as a lifestyle choice perhaps, and for some it may have been.

In this dog eat dog world, it is now becoming more and more difficult to make ends meet and with falling incomes and rising house prices, unscrupulous and greedy landlords are evicting tenants in order to raise rents and make more profits. As a result, more and more people of all ages are finding themselves on the streets and this is one of the tragedies of a so called civilised society. This is the legacy of long term government by parties that worship the capitalist ideals and does not look like getting fixed any time soon.  Council flats and houses were there to provide affordable housing, and when these were sold off to make profits for landlords, they were not replaced and now the concept of affordable housing seems to be based around cardboard boxes under bypasses.

The problem always seems worse at this time of year, with cold nights and all of the vulgarity of the festive season forming a contrast with the reality of misery for so many.   

My grandson is an innkeeper in his school nativity play today. He and all the rest of his privileged friends will put on the usual display of middle eastern mythology to the delight of their parents and relief of their teachers. I recited the temptation to subvert things by prompting him to tell the unwed parents, that they had plenty of room.

Albatross

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9u4vb3OPN_w

My brother Mark would have been 64 today had he not died at the age of seventeen in a stupid accident. He had been drinking with friends and was riding his motor cycle home. They were fooling around and he rode directly into the path of an oncoming vehicle. The whole family was of course devastated and probably never recovered from that.

After the funeral I went back to college and took his record collection with me. They were all 45s and  quite a lot of them were by Fleetwood Mac. I didn't even know that he liked them, and I remember sitting in my room playing them for hours on end. Albatross, Man of the world and Oh well must have driven my neighbours mad over a few days, but they did help me to come to terms with his death, something that my parents never did.

I understand , I think, why some people find comfort in their religions. It probably enables them to imagine their dear departed to be in a better place and still in some way alive. For me and many others, death is an ending, not a beginning. Mark will be remembered by the few family  members who still exist and his images will probably somewhere exist even after that.

The summer of that year, 1968, my cleaner, yes we were spoiled in those days, tidied my desk and put a pile of records on the windowsill in full sunlight.  Vinyls do not cope well with heat and when I returned to my room, they looked like a pile of black poppadoms so my physical link to him had gone.

Now I have access to whatever music I wish to hear, but Albatross on a scratchy vinyl would still sound wonderful.

Anthem

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wRYjtvIYK0

My current ear worm is this song by  the late great Leonard Cohen.  I never got to attend any of his concerts and now of course it is too late.  We do tend to imagine that we have plenty of time to do things and we put things off.

I have a diagnosis at last, and although not definitive, it seems to be the most likely one.  It would appear that I have developed a form of epilepsy and am being treated for that with purple pills that I have to add to my growing list of medications. I was already feeling unworldly before I began taking them but at least the episodes should be kept at bay. The next batch are overdue so maybe the pills do work - early days.

So now I have to find other things to write about. Mostly my posts here are pretty random and I babble about  whatever has come into my head. I sometimes wonder about those of you that read, or at least open the posts. I know that I have a small number of followers but you are of course anonymous and that is how it should be.  Occasionally I get a comment from someone but these tend to be few and far between; I must say that comments are welcome as it reminds me that I am not writing in a vacuum.

Anonymity is a double edged sword however and many people expressing their views on the web, do so only because they cannot easily be identified. Sitting in a darkened room can give a great sense of safety, and in those circumstances it is easy to be brave and even aggressive.  I am a frequent user of social media and I do use Facebook to express my views and to occasionally challenge the garbage that gets published, and for that I am frequently in trouble with some people that I know; especially those who think that the sole purpose of Facebook is to display their dinner or their pets.  At least with Facebook, people can identify me and I can limit my profile access to those who I wish to communicate with.

Social media will change the world more than we can imagine. We live in a world community and yet that community is divided and kept that way by manipulation of wealth. The rich have had things their way for centuries and there is a whiff of change in the air. There will be revolutions; the current system does not work and cracks are already appearing. Let us hope that light does get in and that the whole thing does not fall apart; anarchy is not an attractive option.

Brain Damage

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Z39KZAryzk

Another in a long succession of bright sunny days, but so cold. However this is preferable to the dull dark rainy winter days that are the norm.  Today is also my appointment with the neurologist and I hope that I may get some answers, though of course he may have none. Some things are mysterious and have no answers. We do tend to think that all questions can be answered, and of course Google can do most things but there will always be mysteries.

Science has made much progress in our understanding of the brain, but it remains the least well understood organ in the body. It is fundamentally a mass of cells, neurons of  several types, blood vessels and fluid filled spaces, incapable of independent existence but it is where WE reside. Our thoughts, memories and emotions all originate in the brain, the rest of our bodies are there to ensure the survival and to provide stimulation for the brain.  We can describe the nature of nerve impulses and their propagation, we can to some extent comprehend the effects of those impulses on muscles and glands and we know how many of the hormones released operate, but we still do not fully understand memory or even our sense of self. There are some that believe that the brain is far too complex for us ever to understand it fully.

Some believe that the self is a soul and that it is immortal, remaining in the body as long as it lasts and then moving on.  It is easy to see why these beliefs are held, as when the brain shuts down completely, all we are is a lot of meat that will in a short while decompose into component parts. The idea that we have gone forever is for some very scary.  For me it isn't; we are all temporary and must face the fact that the world was here before us and will continue when we die. Some of us will be missed by a few people but we will inevitably cease to exist apart from in the memories of others or in family photographs.

I know that there is no tumour in my head, and for that I am grateful. I have known a number of people who have had them and have suffered horribly as a result.  There is some comfort in that knowledge but I am not sure how I will feel this afternoon, whatever the news may be. Remaining a mystery may be as hard as having an explanation.

The Crying Game

Yes, I know that I am writing a lot these days, and probably not making a great deal of sense but I am, by writing, trying to make sense of myself.  Of course no-one is obliged to read my words but I hope that one day they can be used by people that I care about, to understand me a little.

I was brought up, in strange circumstances by most people's reckoning, to keep opinions and emotions to myself. It was  a survival mechanism, by and large and encouraged me to inhabit my own inner world, a place where very few have ever been allowed entry to.  As children we were always encouraged to be brave and not to cry under any circumstances, probably because other people's tears are hard to cope with, or was it because it was a sign of weakness?

My head is all over the place these days, I have issues i know, but I suspect that they are of a physical nature and one of the changes in me recently has been an outbreak of emotional episodes that seem to run concurrently with the other things. I have never been one to give in to public displays of anything at all, least of all tears. It seems now though that has changed and the smallest things can on some days reduce me to a blubbering heap. It can be an image, a look on someone's face, a piece of music or anything of beauty.  If I see someone else crying I join them, though I still fight really hard not to. If I am alone then I just let go and then it passes until the next time.

Crying gives relief I know and some people are very good at it. I am a beginner and know that I have a long way to go before it seems like the right thing to do. In the meantime I am taking steps to unwind what is inside me by committing my inner feelings to this blog. If you are reading this, thank you and please bear with me.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JrSTPNkPcDE

Patterns

One of my favourite phases in science education involved a scheme called SCISP. The Schools Council Integrated Science Project. I still have the books somewhere. The overall theme was patterns, looking for patterns, analysing and applying patterns and so on. Admittedly it was designed for the more able students and was meant to challenge them and enable and encourage the thinking process. I remember one particular experiment where the students used a simple electrolytic process to measure the charge carried by a a single electron. I wasn't expecting much in terms of accuracy but was thoroughly impressed when the first group to finish came up with a value within five percent of the textbook value.  They were pretty thrilled too.

We use patterns so much in life, anything from construction to train timetables and yet we give them little thought or consideration.  The year that is thankfully coming to an end, like other years, follows a pattern of day and night, of seasons and so on, all events that influence and determine our own lives and the patterns that we live by.

I have recently had so many scans and procedures to investigate the strange episodes that have taken over my life.  They seem to follow a pattern of sorts. As I write I am aware that the next batch is overdue and I know that soon a day will be wiped out with a succession of mini seizures and that the following few days will be filled with fatigue and lethargy.  The results of the most recent scan, showed that thy lower half is ok and that nothing is growing in there that shouldn't be so that was a relief. The next appointment is thursday when I see the neurologist for the outcome of the brain scan and the EEG. I am guessing that if there was anything crucial, that I would have been called earlier, but that is hope as much as pattern interpretation.



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6GTmN7Fhv6o

I just wasn't made for these times

We had an elderly neighbour, when I was not so elderly, who frequently looked at the news and said that this was not her world any more. Things do change rapidly these days and probably more than we are able to manage, and I am beginning to feel the same.

When I was growing up, things seemed to change very slowly, if at all, and each year was more or less the same as the previous one. Technology was in a very long and extended infancy. There were no computers, mobile phones or even remote controls.  I remember at college, learning about binary and hexadecimal systems and thinking that this was pretty irrelevant, and mocked a fellow student who said that one day a whole record collection would be stored on a divide that would fit into the palm of your hand.

My smartphone and smart TV are infinitely smarter than I am and each has more computing power than I am capable of comprehending and it seems that there is always a new gadget around the corner.     It appears that it is now possible to control virtually all things electrical in your home from your phone. We are becoming so very dependent upon this electronic revolution and many of us are becoming addicted to screens and would suffer withdrawal should we become deprived for any length of time.

I have always been a fan of computers, I loved writing programs and love the access that they give us to the world, but am also aware of the dangers of social media and in particular the damage that too much unverifiable information can do.  These are interesting times indeed and I am sure that I am lagging behind, but perhaps that is an inevitability.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NR7_TbMIVnA