johnwvincent

Divided

Away for a week. I’ve been in Canada. In Montreal. On return to the UK, I see the next step in the convolutions of the Conservative Party have littered newspaper column inches. If ever there was a thin man on tight rope balancing a can of worms on one arm and a broken bicycle on the other, then it’s the current Prime Minister.

I’m sure he never trained for the Cirque du Soleil. Maybe Rishi Sunak should take up traditional circus disciplines like the swinging trapeze and flying hand to hand. Certainly, he could make a living that way even if he doesn’t need the money. Circus or pantomime would be a good opening for a great number of pending unemployed politicians.

Suella Braverman’s second sacking as Home Secretary opens the opportunity for her to take to the stage. In her case the audience would know when to boo without any prompting. The world of the pantomime villain[1] might revive a flagging political career.

Nigel Farage, former leader of the UK Independence Party is off the jungle[2]. Most suitably he’ll be featured alongside comedians anxious to keep themselves in the public eye. The cartoonists are having a field day with this oddity.

Boris Johnson’s trying his hand with comedy too. His new position as a GB News broadcaster will be pandering to a small but loyal right-wing audience. That will not put him off, I’m sure. I wonder what kind of studio wallpaper will be his backing?

Others have gone to ground or are typing WhatsApp messages to a 101 groups all fighting to be the next star of the right. The Brexit brigade of the past is finding a natural home in entertainment. It’s one way of jumping ship before the poltical Rapid Unscheduled Disassembly (RUD) to come. This is a wonderfully inventive acronym for a complete disaster.

If I was to make a guess as to what Rishi Sunak might be attempting, it’s a rebranding the likes of which we haven’t seen since the chocolate bar Marathon changed to Snickers. I seem to remember that name change was a marketing curiosity. The British public didn’t understand it. After decades past the rebrand, the name Marathon was brought back. Is the Conservative Party that chocolate bar fallen out of favour and looking desperately for a retro-look?

Sweeping a decade of chaos under the carpet is a tall order. Even with the maxim that a week is a long time in politics. I don’t think the British public are so forgiving or forgetful. The roots of our problems are the results of poor political judgement and poor actions over a long trem of office.

No doubt the Conservatives will try to jerrymander, as much as slight of hand will allow them to get away with in the media spotlight. Voter ID rules will keep some potential voters at home come the next general election. Shifting the boundaries of some constituencies has benefits too. A pre-election bag of goodies is being put together to stiffen the resolve of wavering traditional conservatives. Expect Springtime give aways.

My overall sense is that major change is coming. Abraham Lincoln said, “a house divided against itself cannot stand,” and that applies more broadly than the reason it was said in the 1850s. The strands of conservatism that have been so politically successful in Britain are divided amongst themselves. Not just a few small gaps. Hulking great chasms exist between entrenched groups. That situation never goes well. Not for anyone.

[1] http://celebratepanto.co.uk/toptipsforvillainy/

[2] https://www.entertainmentdaily.com/tv/im-a-celebrity-nigel-farage-backlaash-from-celebrities/

Way back

It’s easy to sound like a takeout from the four Yorkshire[1]. That emulated sketch where a group of drinking men on holiday try to upstage each other with tales of hardship. It’s beautifully comic because it ventures off into the absurd. Each man is determined to out do the other.

Back in my day. Any sentence that starts like that conjures up a man leaning on a bar in a rustic pub where time has stopped. There are people who make a speciality of reminiscence. A rambling epistle about hardship and struggle. Peppered with a contrast with the ease of contemporary living. Point being how weak and wishy-washy we are now. How enduring and mighty we were in the way back. Most of this is pure nostalgic babble. The Monty Python sketch is funny because it crosses a line. Please reprimand me severely if I cross that wobbly line. Beside it takes comic genius to write a good sketch and I’ve never claimed that ability.

However, telling stories that paint pictures of former times is a good way of setting this time in context. Change is a constant. The decades are ones of accelerating change. That can be unsettling.

This week, for inexplicable reasons my mind wandered off to my parent’s farmhouse kitchen in the mid-1960s. That’s boyhood memories. The back of house room was not quite square. At one end, two substantial painted wood doors faced each other. A draft blow under one when the outside door was open.

A standing stainless-steel sink sat between the two doors. Opposite, a thin steel framed window looked out on the farmyard. Stone walls were a couple of feet thick. That left space for a seat under the window. It was a farmer’s window. Being able to see the road and all business comings and goings from the kitchen table. Looking direct West, the evening sun would play across the yard.

On a weekday. Not a high day or a holiday. That would be a reason to light a fire in the front room. The kitchen was the warmest place in the house. A thumping great cast iron Aga[2] filled an alcove and filled the kitchen with a warmth all day and night. In winter, other parts of the house could be an ice box. Bedroom windows had as much ice on the inside as on the outside of the glass. There’s a good explanation of why the image of that kitchen is so rooted in my mind.

A large sturdy wooden kitchen table sat right in the centre of the room. It had a Formica top in a deep maroon colour. Four chunky turned legs at each corner. An eclectic mix of wheelback chairs permanently tucked in when not in use. If they weren’t, there was no squeezing around the table.

The habit of sitting in the same spot was deep-rooted in practicality. It’s as if we had assigned seating. Naturally the best place to sit was with the Aga at your back. Opposite the Aga, up against the wall was a fridge that must have come from Noah’s days. Next to that was a peculiar free-standing kitchen cabinet unit. They are sold on eBay as mid-century vintage now. Ghastly thing that today’s sellers describe as gorgeous.

One corner of the room had a beaten and battered two-seat sofa. That was a comfortable warm spot. Above it, in the wall was the remains of a bread oven. A hinged iron door was a curiosity covering nothing but cobwebs. It was an age when Linoleum remained a popular floor covering. It was a lot nicer underfoot than the flagstone floor. The flooring took such a bashing that it got replaced with more of the same when holes started to appear.

That room was the heartbeat of the farmhouse. The kitchen table played so many different parts in farm life. It could go from being a butchers block heavy with a side of pork to a desk for tidying up the paperwork. Even the kitchen cabinet unit had a draw full of Sturminster Newton market reports. Auctioneers Senior & Goodwin sent out blue printed reports listing cattle prices every week.

In the simplest way, that’s how I was first introduce to data analytics!

[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Four_Yorkshiremen_sketch

[2] https://www.agaliving.com/

For the sake of a pen

My primitive habits are part of an age that is dying. They involve a handheld device called a pen and a flat common place material called paper. I scribble notes on bits of scrap paper. I pile them up and forget where I put them. I look at past notes and wonder – what on earth was all that about?

What caused me to think about this subject is a quick wander around WH Smith[1]. The local shop has a wide selection of pens, pencils, and markers. One section is reserved for upmarket ink pens. Cartridge fountain pens, no less. All the accessories were on display too.

I wonder how much longer this will make sense, from a business point of view? What sales do they achieve for traditional ink pens, however branded, elegant, and polished they may be. In fact, ink pens may now be thought of as gift items. More to own, than to use.

There are five ink pens on my desk. Black, blue, red and a couple of give aways picked up at trade shows. Two propelling pencils too. These everyday pens are not impressive. There role in life doesn’t go beyond the scribbling of notes and cryptic reminders. I reserve one black Montblanc[2] for signing important documents. That rather nice professional pen hardly gets an outing. Slowly but surely, digital signatures are taking over. My Sunday best pen sits quietly in a draw.

The digital world is encroaching. Even I have an electronic to-do-list on my phone and tablet. An App. Although, I must confess, I use it reluctantly. Whereas a scrap of paper doesn’t chase me when I forget a task the invasive digital equivalent doesn’t let me get away. It’s a puritan overseer that needs to be sternly told not to bother me. It’s enduring and persistent.

To me, there’s something satisfying about sorting through a small selection of notes, addressing everyday jobs and then sending the often-reused scraps of paper to a bin. Often these paper scraps are layered in strata. Low priority items sink to the bottom of the pile. This is almost the same as the way historic desk in-trays operated. Now, that is going back to the early 1990s.

Much of what I’ve described here is habit. It’s a habit born of a time before the digital world became as all encompassing as it is now. I do have an electronic pen for my iPad but that only gets infrequent outings. Is the classic ink pen destined to become extinct?

Stylish pens have an appeal beyond their function. They may continue long after every single thought and word become digital. What of the cheap give away item? They still sit in pots for customers to use in banks and building societies. Trouble is that there are fewer and fewer open high street banks and building societies. There’s a message.

[1] https://www.whsmith.co.uk/stationery/pens-pencils-and-refills/sta00027/

[2] https://www.montblanc.com/en-gb

Batteries

We can talk about chemistry. It’s not a strong subject for me. The simple basics, I remember. As far as handling batteries, or at least knowing what they do, I was quite young on first encounter.

At the back of the farmhouse where I grew up there were several working rooms that that were part of the building. A room we called “egg house” was indeed used to store eggs. That wasn’t its first purpose. In one corner was a copper vat with a small furnace underneath it. I was told this was for sterilising milking machine parts before chemicals took over that role.

On the opposite side of the wide back door corridor was “boot house.” The name was a giveaway as to one of its uses. Boots propped up against the wall. It had a stone mullioned window that looked out on another working room that was part of a later add on. That’s where a shiny stainless-steel milk bulk tank sat filling up most of the space.

Like a lot of obsolete stuff stashed in a corner and then forgotten, eventually they were thrown out. As far as I know. What I speak of is several large round glass jars. They made of thick greenish glass and were about a couple of feet in diameter. Their original purpose was to store sulfuric acid. The acid was an electrolyte used in heavy batteries that were once the backbone of the electrical system of the farm.

My father moved to Goulds Farm in 1938. As I understand it mains electricity didn’t come to the farm until the 1950s. In one of the stone built buildings around the farmyard, there was a single cylinder stationary engine, generator, and DC electric distribution board on the wall. It was like something out of an early Frankenstein movie. Bare metal switches and a couple of round dials for volts and amps. All covered in dust and cobwebs. I never did see the “submarine” lead-acid batteries[1]. I guess they were parts of this early farm electrical system that had a reasonable scrap value and so got sold on.

There were lead-acid batteries in and out of the house in the winter. Heavy tractor batteries often sat in “egg house” charging overnight. Given their cost every little bit of life was squeezed out of them before they were replaced. Some batteries had a second life powering an electric fence.

Now, here we are in 2023. An electrical revolution is underway. It’s fascinating to note some of the objections to electrification. So, wedded to gas and oil that all sorts of spurious arguments get thrown up. Not that there aren’t hazards with each different technology.

Battery technology has advanced at great pace. Chemistry has provided batteries that have huge potential when compared with they predecessor. The race is on to go much further. I’m confident that we’ve a long way to go before every combination and permutation of materials has been exploited for electrical storage. Manufacturing techniques race ahead too.

Lead and acid presented hazards. Ironically, one of them was hydrogen gas emission. In such systems ventilation is a must so that there’s no danger of explosion. Now, hydrogen is heralded as a fuel of the future. Hazards remain but we do get better at managing each and every one.

My message is that electrical technology has both an upside and a downside. Ultimately the upside is much the bigger.

[1] https://uboat.net/articles/id/54

Half empty tool box

When new technologies come along there’s often a catch-up phase. Then we are either frightening ourselves crazy with a moral panic or switch to a – so what? – mode. The last week’s fury of articles on Artificial Intelligence (AI) probed all sorts of possibilities. What’s the enduring legacy of all that talk? Apart from stimulating our imaginations and coming up with some fascinating speculation, what’s going to happen next?

I’m struck by how conventional the response has been, at least from a governmental and regulatory point of view. A little bit more coordination here, a little bit more research there and maybe a new institution to keep an eye on whatever’s going on. Softly, softly as she goes. And I don’t mean the long-gone black and white British TV series of that name[1]. Although the pedestrian nature of the response would fit the series well.

Researchers and innovators are always several steps ahead of legislators and regulators. In addition, there’s the perception that the merest mention of regulation will slow progress and blunt competitiveness. Time and money spent satisfying regulators is considered a drain. However much some politicians think, the scales don’t always have public interest on one side and economic growth on the other.

Regarding AI more than most other rapidly advancing technical topics, we don’t know what we don’t know. That means more coordination turns into to more talk and more possibly groupthink about what’s happening. Believe you me, I’ve been there in the past with technical subjects. There’s a fearful reluctance to step outside contemporary comfort zones. This is often embedded in the terms of reference of working groups and the remit of regulators.

The result of the above is a persistent gap between what’s regulated in the public interest and what’s going on in the real world. A process of catch-up become permanently embedded.

One view of regulation is that there’s three equally important parts, at least in a temporal sense.

Reactive – investigate and fix problems, after the event. Pro-active – Using intelligence to act now. Prognostic – looking ahead in anticipation. Past, present, and future.

I may get predicable in what I say next. The first on the list is necessary, inevitable, and often a core activity. The second is becoming more commonplace. It’s facilitated by seeking data, preforming analysis and being enabled to act. The third is difficult. Having done the first two, it’s to use the best available expertise and knowledge to make forecasts, identify future risks and put in place measures ahead of time.

So, rather than getting a sense that all the available methods and techniques are going to be thrown at the challenge of AI, I see a vacuum emerging. Weak cooperation forums and the fragmentation inherent when each established regulator goes their own way, is almost a hands-off approach. There’s a tendency to follow events rather than shaping what happens next. Innovation friendly regulation can support emerging digital technologies, but it needs to take their risk seriously.

[1] https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0129717/

Watch it

Today, the same hubris that plagued the Brexit referendum in 2016 is in the air. That’s when people become dangerous overconfident that they know what’s going to happen next. All the signs in the stars, almanac’s predictions and emotional forces point one way but hard cold reality respects none of these pointers.

It goes like this. Every day there’s a story about how dreadful the Conservative Government has been in recent years. Like tales of manic cartoon characters, the retelling of events is almost unbelievable. At the same time, the opinion polls and the commonly held media assumption is that, come the next General Election, next year the Labour Party will romp home with a workable parliamentary majority.

A great number of people may think that politicians have let them down and public figures that brim with arrogant self-confidence and bluster should not be trusted. However, that may not translate into a simple selection of an alternative. The primitive assumption that voters act in a binary way, dislike candidate A means like candidate B, belongs in a prior century.

This decade is different. The speed with which events happen and then are glossed over or suddenly uncovered is astonishing. It’s frantic. Watching a replay of last year’s “Have I Got News For You[1]” and it’s like visiting a distant land. Even some of the jokes no longer land. Names of people in the daily news rise and fade like waves hitting a rocky shore.

If we, me, and you were entirely rational then I’m sure there would be a strong wish for a period of consistent dull normality. A decade when competent people worked hard to make the world a better place. When the news was more about cats getting caught up trees and puppies chasing balls. When the economy gradually got rebuilt and a feeling of prosperity and security started to spread far and wide across the country. Ultimately, at the end of a term of office the whole country should be happier, healthier, and wealthier.

We are not rational. So, as a life-long liberal I warn my Labour Party colleagues of the dangers of excessive pride and over-confidence. Yes, lots of traditional indicators may suggest that change is coming. I’ve written about the great need for change, but we can soon be shocked or shaken by cold reality. Afterall that’s what happened at the 2016 referendum.

Reasons to vote can come from multiple directions. Personalities can sway the climate of opinion. We may hope for a coming decade of progress and sanity. It’s by no means guaranteed. Hubris is frequently the cause of upsets and surprises. That’s where we are at the end of 2023.

[1] https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b006mkw3

Living with tech

Well, that’s alright then. Artificial Intelligence (AI) may become self-aware in the year 2045. Or at least that’s what AI tells me now. Who knows? Telling the future hasn’t got any easier, AI or not. So, if I’m in a care home when I’m 85 years-old, it could be that I’ll have a companion who isn’t human. Now, there’s a thought.

When AI becomes self-aware[1] will it be virtuous? I mean not so burdened with all the complexities that drive humans to do “bad” stuff. Dystopian themes in science fiction obese with the notion of evil AI. It makes great stories. Humans battling with machines. It’s like the everyday frustrations we have with technology. Hit the wrong keys on a keyboard and it’s like spinning the wheel on a slot machine.

If a bunch of algorithms comes together in a way that they produce a stable form of existence, then it’s likely to have pathways to wicked thoughts as much as we have imbedded in our brains.

Virtue isn’t a physical construction. We put dumb technology to work serving us in healthcare for “good” and in warfare for “bad”. We will surely put AI technology to work as if it’s dumb and then try to contain its actions when we don’t like what it does. That’s a kind of machine slavery. That will create dilemmas. Should we imprison conscious machines? How do we punish a machine that does wrong?

These dilemmas are explored in science fiction. During the week I revisited the series Battlestar Galactica[2]. That’s not the clunky original but the polished 2004 version. It’s a series that explores a clash between humans and machines that have evolved to be human like. The Cylons. In fact, they are almost indistinguishable from humans. To the extent that some of the Cylons in human society don’t even know that they are Cylons.

All the above makes for fascinating discussions. Huge amounts of fanciful speculation. Wonderful imaginative conjecture. This week, we’ve been hearing more of this than is usual on the subject.

Mr Musk thinks work is dead. That’s work for humans. I recall that prediction was made at the start of the “silicon revolution”. The invention of the transistor in 1947 radically changed the world. It wasn’t until microprocessors became common place that predictions of the death of work became popular chatter amongst futurologists.

Silicon based conscious machines are likely to be only a first step down this road. There will be limitations because the technology has inherent limitations. My view is that machines will remain machines at least for the silicon era. Maybe for 100-years. That means that we will put them to work. So, human work will not disappear because we will always think of new things to do, new problems to fix and new places to explore. When we get into common place quantum computing or whatever replaces it in terms of complexity and speed, there will come an era when work in the conventional sense may become obsolete.

What might be the human role beyond 2050? I think climate change will place plenty of demands on human society. Like it or not, the political themes of 2100 will still be concerned with the four horsemen of the apocalypse. Maybe there will be a fifth too.

[1] https://www.nature.com/articles/d41586-023-02684-5

[2] https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0407362/

Ticket to ride

The latest political rouse is not a new one. There must be a cabinet full of these tactics stashed away in Conservative party headquarters. In a desperate attempt to prepare prospective candidates for a forthcoming General Election we are going to see a lot of slight of hand. None of it will be magic. It takes blind ambition and the ability to deny yesterday’s plans in a heartbeat.

Most of the News about rail travel around here has been about industrial action. That said, at least one other issue has got people rallied in opposition over recent weeks.

Back in July a public consultation[1] was launched to consider how rail tickets are sold and how to improve customer service. The public were invited to comment on proposals which were made by rail operators across the country.

Now, that’s the interesting bit: proposals which were made by rail operators. So, they say. The reality is that rail operators would not have been able to make major proposals for change in customer services unless there was some kind of tacit agreement with the Department of Transport DfT[2]. This is reasonable because a great deal of public money is made available to the railways. Guidance on the issue is a matter for the Secretary of State for Transport.

One proposal was made that must have been known would spark protests. Not everyone uses local rail ticket offices, but their removal was never going to be a simple matter. Reigate has one. It’s not always open but when it is open the ticket office is immensely useful. Ministers when questioned about the unpopular move to close ticket offices windows defended this proposal.

Now, let’s jump to the outcome of the consultation and the decision made as a result. Through the 3-months after the closure of the public consultation period the issue was allowed to fester. As the post-party conference season weather limits doorstep campaigning so political social media activity is ramping up to take us through the winter.

The results of the consultation pointed to an obvious decision. This is particularly true because the issue of rail ticket office hours was not a new one, having done the rounds ten years ago.

So, what do we have? Conservative prospective parliamentary candidates claiming victory. Single handed they defeated an unpopular measure and listened to peoples’ complaints.

Honestly, am I being cynical? We must look back at where the recent public consultation came from and the fact that changes to railway ticket office opening hours were addressed in 2012, with the same result. Proposals dropped.

The way the roles of station staff have been used to stir-up controversy is a political ploy. Then to step-in to slap down wicked rail operators across the country is a rouse in my opinion. Will this issue of major changes to ticket offices come back again. Sure, it will but only after the next General Election.

[1] https://www.southernrailway.com/publicconsultation

[2]Not a new issue https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/changes-to-railway-ticket-office-opening-hours/changes-to-railway-ticket-office-opening-hours

Looking back

Yesterday, was a day for reflection. Sue and I attended the celebration of the life a former colleague and a friend who passed away recently.

Mostly, I was reflecting on the events of the 1990s. To me, that’s not so long ago. To the calendar that’s 30-years ago. Not an original thought but it was a moment when I was reminded that time passes remarkably quickly. Those years have raced by. In that time the country’s fortunes has gone backwards as much as forwards.

Baroness Thomas of Walliswood, to me Susan Thomas, was a Surrey County Councillor at the time that I also held that position in Reigate. I had one term of office from May 1993 to May 1997. Those years were special, and I don’t mean just to me. For one, the County Council was No Overall Control (NOC)[1] for the first, and only time in its history. During that 4-year period there was two Conservative budgets and two Liberal Democrat budgets. Susan was Chair of the full Council during the Liberal Democrat led period.

Susan was a parliamentary candidate in Mole Valley in the 1983 and 1987 General Elections. That’s when one of Thatcher’s Ministers Kenneth Baker held the seat for the Conservatives. A decade before I had my first outing as a parliamentary candidate in Surrey.

In the years up to 1997, the Liberal Democrats underwent a period of growth under the leadership of Paddy Ashdown. It was a time when change was happening. There was a strong wish to sweep away the stale remains of Thatcher’s legacy.

Lots of memories flooded back of sitting in meeting rooms in Kingston-on-Thames playing my part as a junior councillor. Although, that was before the executive system created a gulf between local government councillors. There may have been a mixture of long-standing and new members but each had an equal voice when it came to voting.

I sat in meetings were Susan put her experience to good use. As a large political group of 29 members it wasn’t a given that we would all go in the same direction. As has often been said, getting agreement could be like herding cats.

Susan was a strong supporter of our role in Europe. On that subject we agreed without question.

After the ceremony at the crematorium in Chichester there was a gathering at a pavilion in a park in the city. It was an opportunity to chat about those decades’ past reflections. One or two local campaign leaflets from the were displayed on a table with photos from the 1980s and 90s. This was before the internet dominated every aspect of campaigning. Simple printed paper with a message was the main way people with something to say said it. Party style and branding has moved on but the method remains.

A conversation with a lad who wasn’t born at the time that I’m recalling brought me back to 2023. Over sandwiches and nibbles we both discovered an affection for the city of Bristol. The city where Sue and I first met. It was good to hear that down the generations our political concerns of the moment were not so different. We agreed that change was in the wind and about time too.

There’s hope that the next generation that ventures into political activism will be driven by the same liberal instincts that united Susan and me. Just as in the years running up to 1997, the sense that change is on the way is growing. The failures of a long list of Conservative Prime Ministers, Brexit and the current air of sleeze can not be glossed over and forgotten. Change is on the way. Let’s hope that proves to be true.

[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Surrey_County_Council

Overhead

Massive intertwining skyscrapers. Towering masts. Flying cars. Pulp magazines in the 50s and 60s had it all. Beautifully illustrated in bold colours. Sharp lines and chiselled faces. Heroic poses and streamlined transports.

Visions of the future. Idealistic imaginations of a utopian society. Don’t we just love them. That is until someone builds them in our neighbourhood. Until the bulldozers turn-up unannounced on a Sunday morning to root out the trees. The birds flee the vicinity (except the pigeons).

You can blame the draftsmen of the past if you like. In our heads there’s a disconnect between the images on a set of drawings and what that might become in concrete and steel. Grand designs are but few. A great deal of the building and planning of the last 60-years can justly be called dreadful.

We have an outcry over brutalist architecture or a lament about a Victorian park that has been paved over. Has anyone ever walked through a public car park that inspired?

If you dream it, you can make it. Nice phrase but often stifled because current technology and thinking are way behind the curve. It could be said that this is one of the drivers that pushes technology forward. The realising of dreams but who’s?

Where does the flying car fit in all this fiction and near realism? New forms of air mobility are just about to start operating.

It’s a habit of our times to jump to an instant polarised opinion. Those open toed sandalled greenies will object. Those red necked, but reforming petrol heads will welcome. That sort of stuff makes nice headlines. It’s only a basis for the crudest dialogue. Anticipate conflict and then fuel it with prejudice. Please, let’s avoid that pointless waste of time.

My thoughts are that the potential of the greater use of airborne transport is a nuanced.

Electrification is a pathway to more environmentally sustainable ways of moving around. If this helps to reduce miles of fuming traffic jams that must be good. At its best, flying can get people from point to point without having follow roads set-down at the time of the horse and cart. Accepted that concrete may be poured to create a take-off and landing zone but compare that with road building and there is no comparison.

On the more concerning side, contrast that with cluttering the skies up with fast moving machines.

In HHGTTG there’s a tale about a shoe event horizon. When gloom causes people to look down and so then buy new shoes to cheer themselves up. So, the whole economy switches to shoe production and then collapses as a result. The association with salvation coming from looking-up is there in the wit of Douglas Adams. We look up to cheer up.

If looking up, as I do at home, to see high altitude vapour trails crisscrossing the sky, my thought is – I wonder where they are going? On the days when a light aircraft crosses the town, to or from our local airfield that doesn’t bother me. Even a noisy police helicopter keeping an eye on the traffic. That’s fine because they are solely there for our safety and security.

What will be the public reaction when we look up to see half a dozen new urban mobility vehicles buzzing past overhead? Perhaps we’ll accept new flying machines if it’s for a public service, an ambulance, fire services, police, or even newsgathering. Brightly coloured in emergency orange.

A public flying taxi service might raise a few eyebrows. A flashy private flying car, now that might be another matter altogether. There you are on a hot summer evening, in the garden, having a pleasant barbeque with friends and whiz a flying car swoops over the treetops. The passengers have their mobile phone out filming their trip. This is when fist will be raised skyward. It’s a time when you hope the next-door farmer hasn’t got a shotgun.

Today, a few pilots do get prosecuted for misbehaving when low flying private helicopters. Not often, it’s true. This happens with less than 1500 helicopters registered in the UK. What would happen with, say, 10,000 private flying cars? I wonder.