Well, I got up this morning and checked the local weather forecast. Light rain showers, sunny spells and a gentle breeze, it said. Okay. So I phoned the friend who had expressed an interest in doing a canal towpath walk to see how she felt. Cold, she said. Too much chance of rain, she said. The towpaths will be muddy, she said. On Saturday, she told me, when heavy rain is forecast again, she has tickets for the Royal Cultural Society show. Her daughter bought them for her as a birthday present. She will no doubt get wet then and so she didn’t fancy getting wet today as well.
Besides, as my photos had shown her, that canal walk has some fine views which deserve some good weather if they are to be appreciated fully. It would be a shame, she said, to waste it all on a mediocre day with grey skies. So that was that. We’ll probably have to wait for August to do the walk. So much for plans!
Of course, since I made that phone call the day has just got better and better. I cycled to the market in Uppermill, wearing my insurance policy raincoat but really I didn’t need it. The cloud cover is noticeably thinner and there are bits of blue sky around - “enough to make a sailor a pair of trousers”, as my grandmother used to say. We have even had some sunshine. More is forecast for later. Phil and I will go out for a walk at some point.
Yesterday I accompanied Granddaughter Number One, whose chronic anxiety causes her to find travelling alone on public transport very difficult, to a physiotherapy appointment at a health centre in the middle of town. My daughter offered is a lift home on condition that we helped her “prep” a sewing activity for her class of seven year olds. (This consisted of cutting out felt shapes and threading a lot of sewing needles.) On the way home, not far beyond the point where the built up urban area melts into more open views of Derbyshire, probably but open rolling lad, the car in front of us suddenly stopped. So did we, to avoid running into him. Just as we were cursing mildly about the stupidity of some drivers we discovered the cause. Something small, dark and furry, quite long and skinny, scuttled across the road, his tail stretched out behind him. Not a grey squirrel. A stoat? Possibly. A weasel? Maybe. Quite impressive, but like a spectator at the Tour de France capable of causing an accident. We did not crash. The six-year-old on the back seat was upset that she had not managed to see it. I’ve always wanted to see a weasel, she moaned. So it goes!
There’s a lot of talk about AI (artificial intelligence on all the news channels at the moment. The latest oddity I have read about lately is AI-assisted sleep. Early last year, it seems, the Park Hyatt hotel in New York announced the opening of the Bryte Restorative Sleep Suite,“900-square-feet rooms dedicated to proper rest and relaxation”. It crossed my mind to ask what else a hotel room was dedicated to but then I thought better of it. Here’s a description:
“At the heart of the suite is the king-size Restorative Bed by Bryte, with an artificial intelligence-powered mattress that constantly adjusts its climate zones to ensure your body will go through all the proper sleep stages to help you wake up well-rested and rejuvenated. It also uses multisensory technology to lull you to sleep and a pressure release system to make sure the bed stays contoured to your body throughout the night.”
What more do you need? Apart from plenty of money as rates start at $1,545 for the Bryte Restorative Sleep Suite. How the other half live!
When I was a child we used to listen to a science fiction serial on the radio: Journey into Space. At intervals aliens would try to take control of the spaceship by transmitting sleep-inducing music. The astronauts would combat this by chanting “I must not go to sleep! I must not go to sleep!”
Does AI stand for Alien Intelligence?
Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!
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