Status-Q

I love these nihilistic security questions from Soheil Rezayazdi...

Thanks to Rory C-J for the link.

[caption id="attachment_7812" align="alignnone" width="900"] Beddgelert, Snowdonia[/caption]

North Wales is very moist. But very pretty.

Family tech support over the phone is a wonderful thing, especially with screen-sharing, but it can still be slow progress to achieve some simple tasks...

Me: "You can select several things at once: click the first one, then shift-click the last one"

Relative: "Shift-click?"

"Yes, hold down the shift key while clicking"

"I'm sorry -- I don't know where the shift key is..."

"The one with the up arrow that you use for making capitals."

Long pause.

"No, it doesn't seem to do anything different".

"Oh. Perhaps it doesn't work in this mode. Let me try here. Mmm. It works fine for me. Tell me exactly what you're doing..."

Long discussion during which we discover that beloved relative is actually using the (generally less useful) capslock-click manoeuvre. We try again.

"Are they all selected now?"

"They're all blue"

"Good, that means they're selected. Now... Mmm. What were we doing?..."

I love this understated phrase from the 'Information for visiting pilots' on the website of Caernarfon Airport:

Runway 02/20 at Caernarfon is now permanently unlicensed due to the installation of two 152' amsl wind turbines approximately half way down the runway.

Conjures up some wonderful mental images.

"Go on Bob, time it just right... Oh, and roll as you go through..."

One of the things that strikes many of us visiting the US is the number of advertisements for prescription drugs, even on prime-time TV. This is not allowed in most other countries.

Vox has become rather good at producing short informative videos on a wide variety of topics; here's their take on this subject...

Janet Daley, writing in The Telegraph about being an immigrant to the UK:

What does choosing to live in another country mean in today's world? To my mind then (and now) there is no question that I had decided to become, for almost all intents and purposes, British. The whole point of my decision was that I admired the values and attitudes of this country. Why else choose to live here?

Residing in a country did not seem to me to be simply a matter of adopting a flag of convenience under which it would be possible to live any way one liked so long as the local circumstances facilitated it. In fact, the old countries of Europe were attractive precisely because they had established cultural histories and an inherited stability that the US – with its constant social churn and neurotic insecurity – lacked. You came to live in Britain because you wanted to be part of what Britain was.

The European Union's ""free movement of people"" rule and its obtuse confusion over the assimilation of migrants seem deliberately designed to undermine any such notion of cohesive national identity.

What will preserve the integrity of a nation's institutions if the collective memory of its history is lost? You need not choose anymore. Your habits and social assumptions need not change. You can have it all: any number of nationalities; a whole wallet file of identity documents; a peripatetic working life that drifts in and out of what would once have been communities but are now simply transit stops in a migratory existence.

Maybe you think this is progress. I can understand the argument which says that it is liberating: a new form of personal freedom. For the young and unattached, this may be – temporarily – true. What bliss to come and go across defunct borders, working and living without encumbrance wherever you please, as if life were a permanent gap-year adventure.

But what happens after that? When the responsibilities of grown-up life cause people to long for rootedness and a real sense of hereditary belonging – what then?

And then there is the more urgent political issue: what will preserve the integrity of a nation's institutions if the collective memory of its history is lost?

You know that strange disclaimer that appears at the end of every film? The earliest movies, of course, don't have it. Have you ever wondered how it started?

Well, there lived a certain man in Russia long ago...

Yesterday we attended a rehearsal of the famous Grantchester Bovine Acapella Trio.

Actually, they were trying to reach this particularly tasty tree which was growing just a bit too far out over the river.

We paddled from home, through Grantchester, past Byron's Pool and out towards Hauxton before breakfast this morning. Most enjoyable. This is the mill at Grantchester, taken from just beside Jeffrey Archer's garden.

Saw kingfishers, ducklings, a comorant... Enjoyed a cup of coffee up a little tributary before turning for home.