I’m not sure what conclusion to draw from these numbers. There are people who believe that numbers are important in a cosmic sort of way. Certain combinations have a special meaning. Even the Bible goes in for this kind of mystical philosophy. I think this is a normal human instinct to look for patterns in everything. That is, even when nothing useful can be said about those apparent patterns. Me being reasonably rational, numbers are simple symbols with relatively simple meanings put to a myriad of uses. [Please let’s not go into complex numbers].
The thought that came to me is that the auspicious year of 1984[1] is now 42 years ago. And I think you know what I might write about the number 42. Life the Universe and Everything. The result of a long computation started to find out what life was all about in a fantasy world.
So, now it’s fine to conclude that the fictional world of 1984 didn’t come into being in the last 42 years. However, it can be argued that the groundwork for a political dystopia has been done in the meantime. There’s no doubt that in four decades a lot of interconnections and interdependencies have been constructed as globalisation has taken hold. Our everyday News cycle is proving this to be undeniable. A repercussion of the acts of a difficult politician on one continent impacts the availability of home-grown food on another poorer one.
My life in 1984 was as a young engineer trying to navigate through several workplaces to get the most interesting employment that was on offer. Fortunately, a great deal was happening in the field of electronics in the 80s. Integrated circuits where getting increasingly powerful. As the years clicked by the miniaturisation of components made possible what was once impossible. Several major projects were underway whilst industry was undergoing a rapid transformation.
[A different transition from the one in prospect brought about by artificial intelligence but, in so many ways, just as impactful and a fundamental percussor.]
This weekend, I was transported back to August 1984 and the island of Crete. In amongst piles of memorabilia there I found a scruffy notebook from a package holiday to Greece. My second venture to that Mediterranean country but the first with my partner.
That was a paper-based time. Airline tickets were paper. Money was paper (traveller’s cheques). Photographs were paper. Travel was a wholly analogue experience. Telephones tied down by wires. Even the Boeing 757 that transported us from London Gatwick to Crete had a cockpit full of dials, levers, knobs and switches, all mechanical.
Illuminating in our notes was the reaction to the heat and some continuity. Crete in August is hot at the best of times. That didn’t stop me from wandering along a long stretch of beach looking for an archaeological site. The further we went, the further it seemed we had to go. My saying that it was – just around the next bend – was never forgotten. And this week, there it was in barely legible handwriting.
Tourism has expanded many fold since those innocent wanderings. Greek buses are now modern and often quite regular, which they weren’t in 1984. Basic bathroom facilities in uncooled concrete apartments have given way to four-star hotels and luxurious pools. Nostalgia is fine, if it’s not taken to ridiculous levels, as is the habit of some of my generation.
John Vincent 