The first of this year's Reith Lectures was broadcasted on Radio Four after breakfast on the subject of living with Artificial Intelligence by Professor Stuart Russell. It was really engaging, and easy to follow, a subject in need of careful consideration and of interest to me as a student of Philosophy of Science since before the advent of digital information. As an undergraduate my research project obliged me to compile basic data to support my meagre findings, by hunting through huge tomes of scientific reports from the 'Chemical Abstracts' library shelf. That got me thinking about scientific method and this has remained a subject of interest ever since.
When I arrived at St German's for the school Mass this morning, a group of children were already sitting on the floor in front of the others with small portable xylophones, picking out a tune to accompany the rest of the three dozen or so children in singing a Christmas song. Due to current covid nervousness singing is not permitted in the school hall. Due to the church's high ceiling however, this is permissible. We've been told there's not going to be a Christmas concert or public nativity play this year. The unpredictable and often terrible weather rules out planning an outdoor performance. Tragic for children and their families.
When I got back home, I realised that I'd lost the only pair of middle distance specs I rely on for both reading and seeing clearly across a room. I hunted for them unsuccessfully while Clare cooked lunch and then I fetched this week's veggie bag. I rang Angela to ask if they were in church and could be set aside for me to collect, as I concluded they couldn't be anywhere else. Then I took the 24 bus to town and walked from Westgate Street to St German's. I hunted for the specs with no success, then rang Angela ago, who told me that Peter had gone to look for them. Seconds later an email arrived from him telling me where he'd left them. While hunting, I noticed that the sacristy safe had been left wide open, and closed it with the the chalice I used safely tucked inside. Unusual I thought but then realised why.
Normally Peter tidies up after the school Mass, takes the vessels away and locks them up. This time he'd been busy with an incoming enquiry about booking the hall, so in an effort to be helpful I'd taking the vessels to the sacristy and left them there, unsure of how to finish the job, as normally it's a task done by someone else at St German's. It's all looked after wonderfully for the officiating priest. Peter came in and found my specs. He left them in an unusual place. At the feet of St Joseph. Now there's no image of him in church, so this puzzled me until the penny dropped.
Already the nativity crib scene has been erected, as school classes visit church well before Christmas. When St Joseph had been unpacked, it was found that his head had come off. Peter had repaired him and left the figurine to get on a table in the back room where the flower vases are kept. He was easy to find, looking after my specs, once I realised. Peter's routine completion of chores had been disrupted every bit as much as mine, losing my specs, but things still worked together for good. All was safely gathered in. How our memories rely on routines, as well as observation to see the whole picture.
I took a couple of buses and walked to reach a house on time for a bereavement visit in Canton Court on the return trip, then contacted the undertakers about the detailed arrangement when I got back. That's only the second home visit I've done this year. Most pre-funeral arrangements are done by phone since the pandemic unfortunately.
After supper, the evening was taken up with writing this year's newsletter to accompany the Christmas cards. It's hard enough summarising the key points of the year let alone remembering what they are and when they happened. Mind you, I find the same when it comes to remembering each day's events that I blog about. It's as if memories aren't contained in any distinct order, but can be associated with each other in many different ways, elusive to identify. Only when you make the effort to tell the story do the pieces emerge and need sequencing. It's just like doing a jigsaw puzzle. I can think of no better analogy.
Even more amazing is that for different reasons the rate of recall of certain memories seems to be quite quick, the bulk, rather slower, and some so slow that far longer times pass before recall allows a more complete picture of the past to emerge. It's fascinating, and recall seems to involve sensory cues. I find I rely greatly on photos and visual memories, whether of the day or years past, to evoke memories of an occasion whose story I want to tell. Short term memories are evasive on times, but recollections return later, when you thought you'd forgotten. It's as if every memory really exists, but outside of our normal time-frame of perception.
Early news reports state that the omicron variant of covid has milder symptoms, but is more contagious, and less likely to be fatal or cause serious illness. It will take time for rigorous consistent testing of the initial findings, but they are consistent with the overall evolutionary pattern of new diseases, which self adapt to be more transmissible and less likely to kill of their host. An overview due to Darwin's work, so often vilified by biblical fundamentalists with an overly narrow view of the workings of the creative process. They never really read Genesis chapter one and saw in it an outline of the evolution of the known world from absolute simplicity to complex diversity which precedes science. Perceptive myth was never intended to be taken literally but to awaken people to see the mystery of creation differently.
