Oops!

Note to self: Should you ever wish to point out the depreciation in examination standards in recent years, the poor show made by modern students with their modern, flashy GCSEs (not a patch on the traditional, solid, O-levels of years gone by), then please note the following:

You really, really don't help your argument by, oh yes, making multiple mistakes in your answer sheet.

Should you be interested:

A titration can be used to find the concentration of a solution. In a titration, 22.0 cm³ of hydrochloric acid is required to neutralise 25.0 cm³ of calcium hydroxide solution. The concentration of the hydrochloric acid is 0.001 mol/dm³.
The equation for the reaction is: Ca(OH)₂ + 2HCl → CaCl₂ + 2H₂O
(Relative atomic masses: H = 1; O = 16; Ca = 40)

How many moles of hydrochloric acid are present in 22.0 cm³ of the acid solution? (Answer to 2 sig. fig.)
Given and correct answer: 2.2E-5 mol/dm³
With how many moles of calcium hydroxide will 22.0 cm³ of this acid solution react? (Answer to 2 sig. fig.)
Given and correct answer: 1.1E-5 mols
What is the concentration of the calcium hydroxide solution? (Answer in mol/dm³ to 2 sig. fig.)
Given and correct answer: 4.4E-4 mol/dm³
What is the concentration of the calcium hydroxide solution? (Answer in g/dm³ to 2 sig. fig.)
Given answer: 0.33 g/dm³
Correct answer: 0.033 g/dm³


Nitrogen can be obtained by heating solid ammonium dichromate(VI), (NH₄)2Cr₂O₇. Chromium (III) oxide (Cr₂O₃) and steam are the only other products of this reaction.
(i) Construct the equation, including state symbols, for the action of heat on ammonium dichromate(VI).
Given answer: 2(NH₄)₂Cr₂O₇(s) --> 2Cr₂O₃(s) + H₂O(g) + N₂(g)
Correct answer: (NH₄)₂Cr₂O₇(s) --> Cr₂O₃(s) + 4H₂O(g) + N₂(g)
Their version doesn't even balance! We lose 2 N atoms, 14 H atoms, and 7 O atoms!!


One of the hydrocarbons in petrol is octane. This equation shows the combustion of octane: 2C₈H₁₈ + 25O₂ → 16CO₂ + 18H₂O
What mass of carbon dioxide is produced for every tonne of octane burned in this reaction? (Relative atomic masses: H = 1; C = 12; O = 16) (Answer in tonnes to 2 sig. fig.)
Given answer: 3.1 tonnes
Correct answer: 3.4 tonnes

Basically, unimpressive. I got bored after Question B4, so there might be errors in the answers after that point too. I'll update this if I get that far.

Though a slightly amusing thought...

...is that apparently the big house cost £1.4M. The smaller one would have been, at a guess, about £400K. So we're up to £1.8M. Building costs must be in the region of, say, £150K per unit. 6 units is £900K. I might be a bit high here but probably not massively so - call it £800K. Architect's fees, solicitor's fees, etc etc must amount to £20K - probably a lot more.

So, fairly conservatively, we're probably looking at about £2.5M plus. For 6 semi-detached houses.

Now, the largish detached house was £400K, and must be worth more than a smaller semi-detached property is going to be. Even assuming the resulting houses were worth £400K, somehow, on six properties you'd still LOSE £100K.
But it gets better. The properties were bought at the absolute peak of the market. Especially the large one, which was purchased in January. Prices have already fallen about 7.5% since then, and are predicted to continue to fall for the next 18 months or so. Most forecasters seem to think something in the region of 20% down on the peak price - some as much as 30%. Let's work with 20%.

With a 20% fall in house prices, the houses that would be worth £400K will in fact only be worth £320K each. Which works out at just £1.92M. They won't be able to get them on the market that quickly as they're not build yet, and they won't want to hang onto them as it's a commercial developer.

That's a massive loss of £580,000.00.

Let that be a lesson to you, barbarians. Leave nice properties where they are and learn from Persimmon, everyone's favourite mass-house-building company. Who have laid off 1100 workers because they can't make enough profit from house building any more.

Thoughts - most developers aim for, I guess, about 20% profit on a development. About that? Even if my estimates for building costs were double what it actually costs, and I can't see that they are, they would still be paying out £1.4M + £400K + £400K = £2.2M. Call it £2M. With a 20% profit they would have to sell for £400 each. That's after losing 20% over the next year or so. Which correlates to the equivalent of charging £480 per unit back in January. Which is a LOT - you might have got it, but I'd be surprised.

Why?

Feeling the need to blog more generally today. It's been a weird one today, both really quite good and really spectacularly bad

On the plus side, I got to work on time (ish) and the equipment has worked more than I expected it to. The experiments may or may not have worked, but that's always the way of it until you get to work up the data when you've finished. The flow meters I use to control the rate at which gas enters my cell have been causing me problems - they have an recurring fault but they're not like it all the time. So we're keeping a log to see if we can correlate when they go wrong with anything in particular we're doing. But, apart from throwing a hissy fit this morning, they've basically worked today. We're going out for dinner tonight also with the guys who play in the 10am music group at Ebbe's, so that should be a good time of getting to know each other better. We're taking some tortilla chips made out of lasagne, also some chicken drumsticks, if I can find free-range in the Co-op or Somerfield (M&S is an option, but it's sooo expensive...), and some vegetable stick things - carrots, peppers maybe, cucumber? Crudites, that's the word

And then it all goes pear-shaped. I'm not good at change. I'm really not good at change. I like things to stay the way they are, or to improve. I don't cope well when things change for the worse.

And that's what's happening just next door. We realised they were doing some work on the house (a fairly hideous 2 story thing) but it was still a shock to find it just gone when I got home from work. A bit weird, and it threw me a bit, but hey, it was pretty awful, so no loss, you could say

What is a loss is the fact that the beautiful Edwardian house (almost a mansion - well, not quite, but big and nice none the less) is ALSO going apparently. Even though when they sent the planning application form, I complained, as did many of the other residents in the road. So they resubmitted the application, showing just an extension, which was fine. But, unknown to me, they also appealed the first decision, but decided not to tell me. Other people found out, so I must have got missed, but still, I didn't have a chance to object

So this lovely old building is going to be torn down to make way for four semi-detached modern boxes, each with a tiny strip of land associated. And the Victorian boat-house is going too. For no good reason, except that it's in the garden and hey, people might not want it. I'm gutted, absolutely gutted. I don't know if it'll even be there when I get home - it might already be gone. If not, I put money on it vanishing by the end of the week

I don't hate progress, I really don't, and some development is fine. The ugly house going to make way for two smaller ones? OK, maybe a bit short sighted and not exactly pretty, but OK. But why should our council side with a developer over the wishes, clearly expressed, of the local community? It makes no sense to me

And to make matters worse, we've just signed on moving to a new property just down the road. I think, if I had known, I'd have pushed for moving to Jericho instead - we had the choice, and it was 51:49, not exactly a certainty either way. Too late now of course, so I have to live next to a building site, cycle past it every day, and generally be reminded of why Oxford is just getting more and more rubbish with every new building they put up. Nice one.

Food, Food, Glorious Food...

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

OK, it's maybe not up there with the Archbishop converting to Islam (which he hasn't done, by the way, although you'd think he had, the fuss some people are making over his recent comments, however misguided they may be - haven't read them so can't say), but it's still a bit disconcering.

Are you ready?

Deep breath...

Delia says 'eat tinned.'

Yep, that's it.

Actually, it's pretty accurate. If The Times are to be believed, anyway, and surely Murdoch wouldn't lie to us? Would he?

Well, probably not on this one. It'd be too easy to check.

So, Ms. Smith wants us to eat tinned mince. Why? It's foul and made out of bits of meat that the cow didn't even know that it had and it's TINNED for goodness sake. Surely that's enough. I mean, it's not hard.

So, we have a perculiar situation, where the government want everyone to learn to cook, but the chefs want people to eat a Tesco Economy McTinned Meal. With oven chips.

Northern Rock II - the saga continues (and ends)

A long time ago, in a land far away, there was a bank. That bank was generally well run, and even contributed a fair proportion of its profits to charity. But one day everything went wrong...

Now the bank manager was more clever and business-minded than many other people. So one day he had an idea.

"I know," thought the bank manager. "At the moment I take the people's gold for a time, and then pay it back to them later with a bit extra, and in-between times I can lend it to other people at a higher rate of interest, and make a bit for myself. But what if instead I borrow a lot more gold, and do the same? If I charge more interest than I pay, then I'll make a King's ransom in profits."

So the very next day, the clever bank manager went to one of his rivals.

"Will you lend me 1000 sovereigns?" he asked. "And in a year or two, I'll pay you back 1050 sovereigns." The other bank manager thought that was a good deal, and agreed. So the clever bank manager took the 1000 sovereigns, and lent them to his friends.

"Look," he said. "I will lend you 100 sovereigns, and you can have them for a year or two, providing you pay me back 125 then."

Lots of people needed gold to buy food, so they did as he suggested.

But then one day there was bad news from the kingdom the other side of the sea. Some bad bank managers had lent money to people who wouldn't return it, and everybody started to panic.

Then the bank manager who had lent our hero 1000 sovereigns appeared and demanded his money back. But our bank manager didn't have it, for he had lent it to other people to buy food with. And so the panic continued.

One day the King heard all about the story of the bank manager, and said "I will stop the panic by paying everyone back."

And the people said "Hurrah."

But some people said "Oh no, this is a problem. Because to get his money back the king will want to sell the bank to somebody else. And this risks the status of the money that the bank still has."

So they sent off a form and had their ISA transferred to Intelligent Finance instead.

The End.

---

Actually, not quite the end. For, some days after sending off the form for the transfer, the following telephone conversation took place:

Hero: "Hello, you asked me to call you."
NR: "Did we?"
Hero: "Yes. Why?"
NR: "Ah, so we did. You see, the address IF gave us doesn't match the one we have."
Hero: "OK, sorry about that, shall I send you a utility bill to prove I have moved?"
NR: "No, we don't take those. What about a copy of your passport?"
Hero: "You do realise that passports don't have addresses on...?"
NR: "Don't they?"
Hero: "No."
NR: "Oh, well, OK, what about a letter from another bank?"
Hero: "Like the one you have from IF showing my new address?"
NR: "Yes, just like that one. But a different one."
Hero: "But still from IF?"
NR: "Oh yes, that's fine."
Hero: "Right... you do realise it'll have the same address as the letter you already have?"
NR: "Oh yes, but we need it. And we need you to give us a copy of your passport too."
Hero: "But you know who I am - the name's the same in both cases..."
NR: "I know. And we need you to write us a letter."
Hero: "A letter?"
NR: "Yes, one telling us your new address."
Hero: "Like the one you currently have, that sparked this whole thing off?"
NR: "Yes, just like that one. That way we'll know it's you."

When I Rule the World...

I should know better. It's not good for my blood pressure. But I can't stand it any longer. Even more than The Archers, even more than Women's Hour, even more than most of the output of the Guardian, I'm fed up, here and now, with Britain. We are, without doubt, useless. So here is, in a concise and easy to handle list, exactly what's wrong. I'll probably run out of space. But here goes nothing.

1. Iraq. Let's get the big one out of the way first. I blush to admit that I believed the lying so-and-sos who told me that Saddam was an immediate threat to the UK, who had not only the means but also the inclination to wreak havoc on our green and pleasant land. Yeah, right. We shouldn't have gone in, but we did. We broke it, so we fix it. And yes, it's a war. That means that the other side are allowed to fire at us too. And no, it's awful when our soldiers die. But they're soldiers. It's in the job description. So let's equip them properly, let's support them properly, and let's do the best we can to mend it. And then let's go, when the Iraqi government are happy for us to do so. But until then, we're stuck there. Get over it.

Crime and Punishment

1. Right, let's offend some more people. Prison sentences. "Life imprisonment, and you should serve at least 12 years" is meaningless. If the crime is sufficiently grave to merit life imprisonment, then that's what you should get. If you should only serve 12 years, that's what you should be imprisoned for.
2. And whilst we're at it, let's lose the X-Boxes etc in the prisons. No, I'm not advocating solitary confinement and 20 lashes for breakfast, but let's not have a situation where prison is more comfortable than home.
3. Double the number of police. Put the extra ones on the beat, rather than behind desks.
4. "Antisocial behaviour" is playing music loudly. Beating up strangers in the street because they dare to stand up for themselves is assault. Let's find the kids, and start punishing them accordingly.
5. Lose the insultingly moderate sentences handed out for crimes such as murder, attempted murder, ABH, GBH, rape, muggings, etc etc.
6. In exchange, abolish the laws banning smoking in a public place.
7. Abolish the minimum drinking age. Or set it as, say, 12. Is it cool to eat chocolate? Not really. Yes, there'll be carnage for a few years. But it'll get better eventually. Alternatively, if you prefer to keep the legal limit as it currently is, then enforce it.

Politics

1. Climate change. It's happening. Tax the airlines on their fuel like the rest of the country. If and when the European CO2 emissions trading scheme starts working, they join it. Along with every other major business.
2. Research Funding. 65% of the allocated budget should be, well, allocated to specific projects. Cures for cancer, new power sources, medicines. Whatever. The remaining 35% split 60:40 in the sciences and arts for more esoteric research which may have no immediate applications.
3. Scrap the Olympics. Even now. I know it's late but really, £12 billion. Can you think of anything we should spend this money on instead? Oh, I know. Policemen. Schools. Hospitals. Parks. The countryside. Writing off third world debt. Reducing council tax. A giant fireworks show. I don't care. But two weeks worth of people running around a track. Please, no.
4. "Europe" isn't inherently bad. It's not inherently good either.
5. "Move forward or fall behind" is a false assumption. Staying still is the right decision sometimes.
6. Scrap road-pricing. Impose maximum legal emissions limits. If the car manufacturers can't sell their products in the UK, they'll soon change their specifications. And don't confuse congestion with climate change. An electrical car takes up the same amount of road space as a petrol one. And is still polluting (now how do we get that electricity...?)
7. Promote cycling, with financial advantages for those who do so.
8. Accept that public transport does not make money. If you want to encourage people away from their cars, make it attractive, rather than bullying. How about free school buses as a start? Subsidised train fares?
9. Reduce the BBC license fee, by abolishing those aspects that are not remotely "public service." Lose BBC Three. Radio 1? How controversial am I? Also allocate a portion of the fee to funding the National Film and Television Archives.
10. Set a minimum and maximum density for new housing.
11. Try to lose "short term" targets. Trends do not continue for-ever. "Ten years ago [quote statistic] whereas today [more statistics], so in ten years time...". By this argument, in 2020, one in three people will be an Elvis impersonator. Hmmm...

Education

1. Create an independent body (in the same way as the Bank of England is) to oversee school exams. Use people from our top universities, further education colleges, independent and state schools, and let's get an exam that ch alleges those who sit it.
2. An academic education is not for everyone. It should be available to everyone, but that's not the same thing. We need mechanics, builders, plumbers, and let's be honest: they'll earn more than they would with a 2:2 in media studies.
3. To this end, "education" should be compulsory until the age of 18, but this should include apprenticeships, A-levels, NVQs and vocational training courses.

Hmmm, that's all that occurs to me at the moment. Watch this space...

House of Lords 2.0

Web 2.0 is, apparently, defined thus:

"the business revolution in the computer industry caused by the move to the internet as platform, and an attempt to understand the rules for success on that new platform. Chief among those rules is this: Build applications that harness network effects to get better the more people use them."

In other words, it's all about user generated content, and probably the best known example is Wikipedia, where users can create and edit online articles about pretty much anything. But its influence is spread around the interweb, from reviews of books at Amazon through to the video sharing monstrosity that is YouTube.

And it's put forward as the future; which, indeed, it may well be. And that's fine, and possibly dandy, and we can all enjoy watching timeless classics such as "My Cat Falling Off the Table," starring Tiddles and directed by Mike from Lewisham. Wonderful.

And providing I'm not made to watch it, I have no problems with this. We'll leave to one side the questions of legality, copyright infringement and censorship for another post. In general, I'm ambivalent. The web is all but infinite in size and hosts content from all manner of individuals and organisations. If you want to post your thoughts online (as indeed I do here), why, be my guest. Have fun.

The problem comes in with the question of authority. In particular, what authority does information presented as fact have when the author of that information is unaffiliated with any particular source? Do you want to trust - can you trust - what Bob from Slough says about a film, a book, the debate on fox hunting, Trident, or indeed any other topic that is outside his immediate expertise?

Now I have no problems with people having opinions. I have them myself, from time to time. But I strongly hold that policy should not be made by people who know nothing more of the issue than what is presented in the media. It's why phone-ins drive me mad. It's why I snarl at the radio when I hear the phrase "why not let us know what you think about this. Our message boards are now open," or "text us your views on 80116." I'd far rather listen to informed experts offering their opinions and, that way, I can make my own. For a different example, it's why I'd rather read what the Bible has to say on something than to consider what Joe thinks about what he percieves as being the general Christian attitude to something. It's a problem, also, (albeit not the main one) with liberalism in the church. If authority comes from man, why should we listen? After all, I disagree, and I'm at least as qualified to speak about this as you are.

Which all brings me, in a round-about sort of a way, to the proposed-come-underway reform of the House of Lords. The Commons were recently asked to vote on a number of options, from 100% appointed members through to 100% elected. The rationale, it seems, is that for the house to have "credibility" with the public, the public must have a say in its composition. But this misses the point. The only possible advantage of having a second chamber in the first place is that it offers a place where bills proposed by government can be examined in greater, largely non-partisan detail. Hitherto unforseen ramifications can be identified, inconsistencies with present laws spotted, and amendments which, in general, improve matters imposed.

By what authority do the Lords do this? Because firstly they have no major political axe to grind. The majority of Lords are unpaid and cross-bench. They do not aspire to higher political office - they will never be PM or on the front bench. All of which means that, if they believe something to be a bad idea, they tend to say so. Secondly, the house tends to be able to call on true experts in the field of discussion. GM? Let's call on a scientist. Asylum? Let's call on a lawyer.

The notion of having elected peers will largely lose the first advantage. To be elected most nominees will have to be affiliated with one of the major parties. The Lords will attract career politicians rather than interested and informed observers. The expertise gained by appointment will be sacrificed for the "accountability" of public election and enhanced scrutiny. The Lords will become, in all but name, an inferior Commons.

We may as well go the whole hog and settle all debate by text vote (possibly at a premium rate. We can always make the decisions first, and just take votes for profits. After all, if it's good enough for Blue Peter...). Maybe we could call it Lords 2.0.

I'd love to know your thoughts. Text them to me.

Lent: Why all the fuss?

I've discovered the website of the Church of England this week. I was wondering what I would discover in the news section - in particular I was curious as to whether recent media reports describing proposed reunificaion of the Church of England and the Roman Catholic church were quite as I'd made out. However, when I got to the news section, my eye was drawn to the story entitled "Your first action for Lent: Make someone laugh." I'd heard about this also (for I am an avid Radio 4 Today programme junky) so I thought I'd give it a glance.

I know I'm old-skool. I don't really go in for the whole "let's wave our hands in the air thing" (I kind of object to the sentiment, but am reminded of the question posed in Adrian Plass' An Alien at St Wilfred's "why are those christians surrendering to God?"). But I have to confess: an eyebrow was raised when I read about "a range of other initiatives designed to raise a smile [including] a training course for vicars in stand-up-style performance skills." Will, I ask myself, we see our dear Vaughan sitting on a bar stool at the front of Ebbes, pint (of something non-alcoholic, no doubt) in hand, givin' it large? "There was this vicar, right, and..."

I feel it's unlikely. But does this, in fact, have anything to do with Lent? A trip to livelent.net suggests not. By all means, let's be nice to each other - and if you feel like leaving money in a shopping trolley, letting a car out in the queue in front of you, or whatever, then do so. Maybe this comes under "love your neighbour as yourself." But, surely, Lent is so much more than this - it's a chance to consider Jesus as he faced and overcame the greatest and most human temptations over a course of 40 days; evidence of His divinity in His humanity. Let's not reduce it to a time of giving up chocolate and being nice.

And my licence fee goes on this...?

I used to run a computer with the operating system Windows Millenium Edition. Don't worry about what that means if you're not sure (although for those of you are thinking "so do I!", you have my condolences). Windows ME had one major distinguishing feature. No, not System Restore. And not the slightly modified icons from Windows '98. Not at all.

In fact, the major thing that distinguished Windows ME from all previous versions of Windows (and most of the subsequent ones) was its ability to struggle like anything if asked to perform any simple task. No, seriously, it could, and usually did, crash when you turned the computer on. Or off. Or, if you by chance managed to get the machine up and running, when you tried to open a programme - even one that came with it, like Internet Explorer. Like all sulky teenagers, ME had an attitude problem. It simply didn't do what you wanted it to. Pleading, threats and even physical violence had no effect. It was, pure and simple, awful.

The main thing that used to haunt my waking thoughts was why? I mean, how did the conversation go?

"Have you tested the new operating system, Bob?"

"Yes, sir, Mr Gates, sir."

"And...?"

"Um... well, sir, I say tested, but in the end I had to be restrained by my colleagues to stop me throwing my machine out of the window. And you know we're on the 8th floor up here..."

"Excellent. Release it next week."

Actually, that may be dangerously close to the truth. But you get my point.

It's the same with so many things. Just becuase you can doesn't mean you should. And nothing exemplifies my point quite so well as BBC1's primetime offering from 7 'till 8 pm. Robin Hood. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear...

To say the script was bad would be to slight Australian soap operas of all time.

"What do you mean, Darleen - Jason didn't get killed by Darren, and he's now with Melissa? And Jody's going to have his child, except he thinks that she's with Micky?"

Genius, pure genius. Compared, that is, with the utter drivel spouted by M. Hood, Little John et al. And for sublety, it makes Ali G look like Jane Austen. Did you know that there were parallels to be drawn between an 12th century bloke in a forest and a 21st century war against suicide bombers? I didn't.

Oh, and before I forget, clocks which go "tick tock tick tock" didn't exist in the 12th century. They really didn't. It's like watching the Sheriff arrive in a Ford Mustang.

Please, please, BBC, stop wasting our licence fees on men in tights. Speed on the return of Top Gear, and let's all sit down and watch some caravans getting trashed. What could be better family entertainment than that?

You wait for ages, and then two turn up at once...

There can be few frustrations in life to compete with it. It's enough to make grown men burst into tears and to make small children yell abuse at those around them. Or should that be the other way around?

I refer, of course, to that phenomenon known as Waiting For Buses. Now, I'm not exactly a true petrol-head, and if you were to ask me which I'd rather have out of the Vauxhall Something TDi or the Peugeot SomethingElse LX, I really couldn't tell you. I could, of course, express a preference between, say, a brand new Aston Martin DB-9 and my seven year-old Skoda Felicia. However hard we owners of such vehicles protest that, despite years of mocking, the Skoda is now a serious option as a car (rather than as a car-shaped lump of metal sitting on the drive), how the input of VW's engineering expertise has turned a farce into one of the best value for money cars out there, and how in recent years they've ranked highly in terms of reliability, improved in terms of style, and retained their low insurance group, we still find ourselves longing for slightly more than 47 bhp. It's not that it's insufficient for anything in particular, it's just that having, say, 325 bhp might be somewhat more fun.

However, I do know that, when faced with the choice between getting on a bus and getting into a car, I'd far rather take the car. I'd far rather take a bike, to be quite honest. I think it's something about public transport, and I've come to the conclusion that it's, well, the public. Now, don't get me wrong. In some places (preferably far away) buses may serve some useful purpose. They may be cheap, and cost less than the car (it's a novel idea, I know). They may not be smelly, and may be driven by someone who knows which side of the road the rest of the population will be on. They may stop and wait for you when you're three meters down the road in a thunderstorm, and they may not be populated by teenagers whose IQs are, even at their tender ages, outweighed by their shoe sizes. In this Utopia, such buses may exist. All I know is that it's not here.

But surely one of the cruelest torments about buses is the invention known as the timetable. Timetables are devices which serve two purposes. They force one to rush manically to reach the bus stop before the time at which the bus is due, and then force one to wait in ever increasing despondency as the minutes tick past after this time until the bus actually does turn up.

However, one thing about buses that you can rely upon is their ability to arrive in pairs. Like adolescent girls, they seem unwilling to travel alone, and prefer instead the companionship of another bus. And, of course, to prevent loneliness, both buses will be "serving" (note the irony) the same route.

So this is why buses are like spiders. Particularly three-inch wide black spiders with horribly hairy, well, things (I don't know - antennae?). I've lived in my flat for a year now, and despite having to face many creepy-crawlies of varying species, I've managed to stear clear of the arachnids. Until yesterday, when in the morning there was one in the bath, followed by, in the evening, one in the corner of my room.

Why? Don't they have timetables?

It's simply H2O...

"Water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink..."

So cries the Ancient Mariner (possibly... I never was any good at English: science is more my thing). And it's a cry that's being echoed across the wild, and currently parched, plains of Oxford after a building contractor accidently drove a crane through the mains water pipe into my building. Or something. Given this is Britain, and it's currently summertime, it could be that we have the wrong sort of water. Whatever.

For the point is, dear readers, that we have no water. None to drink, none to use in the bathrooms, and none for our experiments. Which is how I come to be writing this, as I wait for my water circulator (a device that, well, circulates water) to slowly warm up from 2 to 25 degrees centigrade. I would normally simply empty out a few litres of cold water and replace them with a similar volume of hot. Unable to do this, I could be here a while.

Which got me thinking just how much water we must use. Apparently the daily volume consumed by every single person in the UK is, on average, 160 litres: that's really rather a lot.

So I propose a solution to this problem, and the current climate-change-influenced shortages we're either currently experiencing, or which in the near future are guaranteed to turn England's green and pleasant land into something resembling the Sahara desert (although possibly without the camals). To paraphrase from that attributed to Marie Antoinette*, "Let them drink wine."

=====

* As mentioned, I'm not an English student and, unsurprisingly, one would be correct in assuming that, despite a decent grade at GCSE, I'm not much of a historian either. Consequently, I had to Google to discover who made this infamous comment. Imagine my surprise, therefore, to find out (from the font of all knowledge that is Yahoo!) that in all likelihood, Ms. Antoinette was in fact completely innocent of this heinous crime, a far more likely culprit being French philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau, writing in early 1766! The things you learn when you start wasting time...