Sound the horn to warn the boar

On the way home from rehearsal last night we had to stop for animals crossing the road. This time it wasn't the usual hare or deer: it was a family of three wild boar. They are such cute podgies! I wouldn't want to greet them without benefit of car, though, especially a sow with young ones.

Critical thinking skills not being developed in college

A study showed that more than a third of US students completed their four years without learning how to "sift fact from opinion". As the author suggests, it's not so much the fault of the teaching in colleges as the lack of foundation in primary education.

Don't assume this is only an USian failing - it's clearly perceptible in UK universities, too.

...it’s the world that we live in and it’s unlikely to change

Noooooo! If this is true, the future looks ever bleaker: each succeeding generation of students becoming more gullible and less able to think properly.

Run! The ice is melting!

Another cheering snippet.

Once upon a Times (back in the days when it was a British newspaper) there was a little back-page article, by someone whose name I have forgotten, on the subject of Joggers all over the pavements. The writer bemoaned the waste of so much energy, and suggested large exercise wheels, perhaps with video of pretty countryside. They could be used to power the towns and cities.

This is perhaps even better.

Annoyed one day, happy the next

I've been in England for a few weeks, visiting family and friends, and there hasn't been much material suitable for blogging. When I have thought of recording or propagating anything it's been because I'm angry: over the disappointing and apparently stupid shenanigans of British politicians, the shameless greed of bigbusinesspeople and bankers, or, even worse, life-threatening injustice and persecution.

English driving depresses me too.

So, I am glad to have something happier to report. Roo had been squealing at any electrical load; $Friend#1 said the belt would be a quick and easy job at a garage, $Friend#2 told me to go to the garage she uses - Forest Gate Garage on the road to Friday Street. I went down there to make an appointment and arrived just as they closed for lunch. Bloke saw me and came over to the gate, asking what was the trouble. I explained, and he said he'd do it straight away. It took longer than expected, and he had to crawl under the car and lie in the mud (did I mention that it was raining hard and there are minor floods here?). Now, I know that it's too fiddly to put a small job through the system and there's usually no box for it, but I like to give them a little something in the nature of a tip. The poor man was wet and muddy too. He refused with a big grin: "You're a visitor here, from France, and anyway I did it in the lunch break." Wasn't that sweet?