Innovation is much of a byword. Climate crisis, feeding the world, ending wars, curing disease, creating endless energy, conquering space – they can all be done if someone, somewhere, just invents something smart right now. We are greater believers in the power of “invention” than we have ever been. Doesn’t matter if sitting on the right or left of politics.
Invention and discovery are not the same. Discovery is to uncover something we had not known or understood before. However, that something was always there waiting to be discovered.
Invention is for makers and dreamers. A contraption, a connection, a way of doing business, a machine or a crazy idea. Invention has a huge spectrum. I’ve never been to the Heath Robinson Museum[1]. Now, I mean to go.
To un-invent presupposes that it can be done. It has been done in the past. The classical world benefited from inventions that were lost in the dark ages. Later to be rediscovered.
Genuinely to uninvent is hard. Human imagination, with so many people on the planet, mitigates against it. Uninventing may be a short-lived move.
My view is that it would be best to try to un-invent a damaging idea or process. For example, let’s uninvent slavery or subjugation.
I had two of them. It was a basic sports car that last came off the production line at the end of 1979. About 45 years-ago in Oxfordshire, England. The MG Midget was much loved.
The “Frogeye” Sprite came first. Then this small sports car went through several evolutions. Ending with the 1500 version[1]. Some say the 1500 version was the worst. I’d say that it had its ideocracies but remained great fun to own and drive. The heavy rubber bumpers were added to meet US market safety requirements. The extra power of the Triumph 1500 engine compensated to some extent, but they were a style disaster. On the positive side, whenever parked, those slab like matt black rubber bumpers, front and back, doubled up as seats.
It’s something in common with most roadgoing cars of the past. The MG Midget was considerably smaller than most cars being driven in 2025. Strange that the roads themselves haven’t changed as much as the cars of the day.
The lanes of Somerset and Dorset wind through the countryside in a pattern that makes little sense unless you study either the size and shape of ancient field systems or the Romans. The contrast is great. Twisting cart tracks that became tarmacked roads or straight lines that were forced onto the landscape in a point-to-point style. The lesser of them hasn’t had a great deal of attention. Thank God, you might say. There are still lanes that link small hamlets and farms that have grass growing down their middle. Overhanging dense hedges on either side.
Those were the roads that gave the most joy of driving my MG sports car. Not at any great speed. Open top with the summer sunshine through the trees and a breeze, what could be better?
Fine, caution is, and was, needed where fresh mud and tractors conspired to add some hazards. Visibility restricted and deep ditches or dirt banks added a few more. I did once come to grief because of farmyard mud. One of those places where the farmyard and the lane were indistinguishable. A herd of cows being paraded up and down the lane every day.
Sadly, my jet black “V” registration MG Midget sat in my garage for many years. Plans to get welding done and tidy-up the soft top never came to anything. I sold it. I can say: I wish I’d kept it. Trouble is that nice wish was never going to be realised.
Now, I live just down the road from Abingdon where all the MG sports cars were made. I do mean to explore the town as the weather improves.
If you had a freeway billboard, what would it say?
Don’t panic. It’s difficult to better the great Douglas Adam’s words. They seem even more pertinent in 2025 than ever. In essence if you think life is wacky now just wait until you get around the next corner. So, save your energy.
POST: if ever there was a day for these two words then it’s 20th January 2025. Reputedly the most depressing day of the year
Call me a motorhead if you like. It’s the cars and bikes of my youth. I suppose they are associated with good memories. It’s the freedom of the road. In the 1970s-80s that was still a freedom. Summer jams hadn’t crushed the spirt of motoring.
It’s nice to hark back to the analogue era. Long before digital engine controllers made engines practically untouchable. Looking at the basic BMC “A” series engine. Everything was fixable. No degree in engineering required. A 15-year-old could do it.
Now, the Austin A35 van has been elevated to the hall of fame. Without it how would Wallace and Gromit[1] ever foil their nemesis? It’s iconic shape is unmistakable.
The van we owned as a field car had a former life as a chicken shed. Some friends and I bought it from a schoolteacher who’d put it back together. We raced it around the open fields. The rugged little engine held-up long before the bodywork fell apart.
Shame we didn’t see the value in it. 50-years on they are much valued[2]. But I don’t think I’d spend ten grand on one.
A lot of wibble is written on the presumption that the older you get the more conservative you get. Whilst this may be true a number of people it’s by no means a rule. Meanwhile media moguls trade on this prehistoric assumption as much as they possibly can.
Even this simple question on politics is open to challenge. Every year the political landscape shifts. What might seem to be conservative a decade ago can now be painted as lefty liberal. So, do you and I change or does the world change around us? Naturally, both.
Again, put the British tabloids and social media aside. They run a shabby soap opera every day. All is not what it seems. Asked “Which political ideologies do Britons have a positive view of?[1]” the results are surprisingly refreshing. Top of the poll comes – environmentalism.
I guess, I am still a believer in the political “bell curve”. The great majority of people are neither tub thumping red necks or wishy-washy socialist spongers. Certainly, that’s what I’ve always found on the doorstep during elections. Valuing family, friends, community, work and having enough to live on without dreading the next bill, that’s a good start.
Yes, my views on a multitude of complex issues have changed but my values remain liberal. Live and let live. Do no harm (if you can avoid it). Encourage everyone to reach their potential. Look at the world with hope and not despair. Avoid gloom mongers.
And I still get a kick out of the story of the boy and the starfish. If you feel you can’t do anything to change the world and it’s all gets too much, think on these few words:
No matter how warm and comfortable, it’s that predicable human factor that’s the difficult one to deal with. Yes, I can say I want natural light, countryside views, just the right temperature and humidity and only pleasant noises. This can all be easily upset.
Distractions are the big one. Love that moment in The Shining when Jack Nicholson sits at his typewriter. Even worse when we all find out what he was typing.
Luckily, my distractions are not that of a towering spooky mountainside hotel. They are social media, my coffee cup, a ring at the door, taking the bins out or some useless attention getting device that should have been switched off ages ago. Even writing these few sentences while I’m supposed to be writing a presentation.
Give me a private space with only a couple of nice distractions. Nothing that goes beep like my German washing machine.
A self-appraisal of one’s performance in this realm isn’t the best guild. That said, I don’t, on the whole, have regular coffee table conversation with friends and family about my own ability to judge others. Or at least that’s my experience.
It’s true we mark our own homework all the time. Building up mental pictures of other people. Framing them with good or bad qualities. It’s an internalised soap opera. This on-going series can be populated with stereotypes. Although, I try my very best to be fair and objective.
I’ll turn to Burns for a moment: “O wad some Pow’r the giftie gie us/To see ourselves as others see us.[1]” Burns says we need to start with seeing ourselves as others see us. Then, knowing ourselves, moving on we can try to see others as they really are. That path might be easier.
What’s simplest to recollect are personal judgement failures. That’s when I’ve got my judgement wrong or partially wrong. Case in point is were an individual’s intelligence was notable, but their social skills turned out to lamentable. I gave them far too much credit for thoughtfulness and wisdom. Turned out they completely lacked.
Am I a good judge of character? In this, I can’t be too poor. Surviving this long says something.
The back-office work of campaigning does take advantage of a lot of volunteering. That’s my experience. Giving time and energy for free and seeking to advance a worthwhile cause.
It would be nice if all political parties in this country where wholly supported by a membership that is both engaged in activities and willing to put their hands in their pockets, now and then. The reality is that, of all the eligible voters in this country, only a small fraction of them is committed enough to be a member of a recognised political party.
Even with a strong membership and a well-motivated bunch of volunteers, life is hard going unless there is a reasonable sized war chest to support campaigning work.
Come election time the range and breadth of communications that is necessary to be a competitive candidate is considerable. Thus, it is no surprise that history can turn on who has the most resources. That doesn’t always work but without a spending capacity rivals have most of the advantages.
Politicians seek the patronage of the wealthy as a pathway to power. We can remain pure and get engaged in arguments both ethical and moral as to the impact of patronage. Or we can accept that it is inevitable and ensure that strict rules exist to create a reasonably level playing field for all candidates. Since we can no more stop influence from flowing from one person to another than we can freeze gravity then a democratic society cannot must not have woolly rules on these matters.
Talk now is about financial donations that originate from abroad. That is when a wealthy person wishes to funnel money into a political party in a country other than the one of their citizenship. No prizes for guessing who or what this is about.
Now, I could say only UK citizens should be allowed to donate to UK political parties or organisations. Foreigners should be banned from involvement in national democratic processes. Trouble is that this subject is not so cut and dry as it might first seem.
Those with dual citizenships may wish to contribute and participate. That sounds reasonable. Those with notable family ties may wish to contribute and participate. Certainly, there are reasonable cases to consider. What’s interesting here is the legitimacy of the interest and that it is of a “friendly” nature.
I’d like to go back to the mater of the level playing field. If a candidate meets the criteria set down for a given election, then the battle should be over achievements, ideas and policies and not over the size of bank balances. Financial donors should not be able to exert undue influence by throwing money at a campaign. That’s where there is a strong need for strict financial limits on donations or any form of beneficial contribution that comes from abroad.
POST: One subject that Australian’s are looking at:
Ho hum. The billions of neural pathways sitting in my head were in a very different state more than 30 million seconds ago. I mean they are changing all the time. They are not sluggish either. Picturing life in the next week is challenging enough.
Even so, I’ll climb down from my hyperbole and answer as the questioner intended. The answer is “no” and “yes”. For fate turns as a penny spins. At any moment, that fair coin is unpredictable.
Last year, it was likely that a major house move would go through as planned. The move wasn’t our first choice. Then by chance, sitting in a busy coffee shop scrolling my phone, there it was to my amazement. An ad for the house that we’d tried to buy twice but each time the arrangements has fallen through. A quick change of priorities, taking a risk, we dropped the on-going purchase and started a third go at the first house we both wanted.
A year has passed. Almost. That impulse to change was the right one. Here we are. Where we want to be. Thank you, neurons.
Genuine commitment to a good cause. There are a lot of good works out there that are like the task of Sisyphus. That’s the poor guy in Greek mythology who was condemned to push a rock up a mountain. When he got near the top the rock rolled back down the mountain, and then he had to start all over again. Never-ending.
I’ve great admiration for those who can keep the positivity going whatever (almost) the mountain throws at them day after day. Can keep smiling. Can be kind and generous and not consumed by resentment despite their less than glamorous struggle.
They are often content to heap praise on others without ever expecting any to come their way. In our modern culture of celebrity and voyeurism this is might be viewed as absurdity ridiculous. Nevertheless, these virtually Saint like people do exist. Often for a phase of their lives, having come to this way of living acknowledging that others suffer greater hardships than themselves. Or with a simple sense that the world can become a better place.
John Vincent 