fiction

Sea Fever

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New term at writers’ group and we were trying to do some different challenges, so someone suggested rewriting well known poems…

With apologies to John Masefield…

Sea Fever

I must go down to the seas again, the Southbourne beach to see,

And all I ask is a beach hut and a kettle to make tea,

And the wave’s kick and the wind’s blast and my white body’s shaking,

As I fall into the sea’s face under a green wave breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the ripping tide,

Is a wild call and a warning from the RNLI.

And all I ask is a windy day with the kite surfers flying,

And the flung boards and the blown ropes and herring gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the cliff side beach hut life,

To the promenade and the children’s way where the sand castles are rife,

And all I ask is some knitting yarn and ideas for Tidalscribe,

And warm sun and a neat chair while I write a diatribe.

My beach hut is called Pens and Needles as I write and knit there and also on a clear day you can see ‘The Needles’ on the Isle of Wight.

John Edward Masefield – (1 June 1878 – 12 May 1967) was an English poet and writer. He was Poet Laureate from 1930 until his death in 1967. Among his best known works are the children’s novels The Midnight Folk and The Box of Delights, and the poems “The Everlasting Mercy” and “Sea-Fever“.

Comedians and others have always enjoyed creating their own versions of very well known poems and songs. Do you like to borrow from poets or do you prefer to write your own poetry?

Tuesday Tiny Tale – Q

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Quentin Quick was looking forward to the meeting of the Puddleminster Pens. Working their way through the alphabet they had reached the letter Q, his nickname. At his suggestion they did not pick a single word for this week, but searched for as many words beginning with Q as possible. Quentin had an ulterior motive, he was addicted to playing Words With Friends on his phone and Q was worth ten points, but hard to place. The group had discussed whether any English word could feature Q without a U. Words With Friends accepted QI, but Puddleminster Pens did not.

Quentin actually had a love hate relationship with Q as he could not escape it. As the fifth to be born and the only boy in a set of quins, life was always going to be challenging. His mother quipped that only sextuplets got serious publicity and quillions of quids. His querulous father Mr Quincy Quick queried if the quins were even his; after all, no quins had ever been born on his side of the family.

As they all grew, his hopes of having an amazing family, like that lot on television, were quashed. His favourite quote was ‘We landed quantity over quality.’ The junior Quicks were unlikely to turn into a musical quintet or quest for fame of any sort. Rather than musical harmony or team sport the quins would constantly quibble.

As Quentin scribbled, wondering if his piece would be an autobiography, he was in a quandary. Should it be entertaining or an honest account of their lives… Five Alive, what was that film called with the robot called Number Five? His parents had splashed out on a rare trip to the cinema and bought them popcorn, well one large tub to share… His mind was wandering, but he could not resist looking it up. Short Circuit, that led to his sisters and friends calling him Number Five for a good while and asking him if he had been struck by lightning.

The family had attracted quite a bit of attention in the cinema foyer. Looking back, he realised his mother’s obsession with the Sound of Music had not only led to her praying for a large family, but had influenced her dressmaking. She was an excellent seamstress and without her skills it would have been a hardship buying all their clothes, but it was an understatement to say the children all looked rather quaint. She did try to make their only son look different from his sisters, but young Quentin begged to also have a frilly dress. Mrs Quick had to warn her husband to be politically correct and let Quentin be himself.

‘I have one son and he turns out to be q…’

‘Quincy… try to be more sensitive, what if he grows up artistic and writes a tv series about us?’

But Quincy found it hard dealing with five adolescents. Queenie did her brother’s make up for him, while Quintessa announced she was trying out for the junior women’s football team and Quilla was the only one who took school work seriously as she wanted to do quantum physics.

Quentin sighed. Quilla was now well known in scientific fields, but the rest of the family had remained unknown and poor. Quentin still liked dressing up, but did not have the personality or bone structure to become a class drag act. So the only thing left to do was try and write a book. Hence his joining the Puddleminster Pens.

Thursday arrived and the group seemed to enjoy his ramblings and tentative scribbles, encouraging him to keep writing, get it all down on paper, then polish it. Only Captain Pedantic, as they called him, had a quibble.

‘There is no such word, no such number as Quillions.’

Tuesday Tiny Tale – Bad Dreams?

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A lot has been happening in the world since I took my blogging break… find out more in tonight’s story...

The boss stared at the television screen in horror as a familiar face loomed into view and an all too familiar voice began to spout words.

‘We have the biggest rockets and we are going to blast the moon out of its orbit, blast it to pieces if necessary to stop those Chinese claiming ownership or IRan blockading our moonlight.

Our four brave astronauts, thanks to me, are taking off today, further into space than ever before, further into space than planned. I have authorised them to keep going till they get to Mars and claim it for our great country and rename it in my honour…’

‘Darling, wakey wakey, Darling WAKE UP aren’t you supposed to be going to the base, isn’t Artemis taking off today?’

‘Oh my God, what time is it? I just had the most dreadful dream… I must get to the base before he puts a jinx on the whole operation.’

Amid calls for NASA to take over running the USA with their calm, dignified efficiency, viewers are tuning in to a new live broadcast on News 24 to fill the vacuum left since the astronauts returned safely to earth.

At 47, Acacia Avenue, Surbiton the Smith family are preparing for the challenge of another boring day in suburbia.

‘Clive, what is the weather report and how will this affect the Smiths?’

‘Temperature warm for April, but showers expected later. However, there is a strong breeze which would make it worthwhile to hang the washing out on the line.’

‘We are going over to Sally who is observing the back garden, where Alfie the Caverpoo is investigating behind the garden shed.’

‘Yes this could be significant as there have been reports of foxes. But more importantly the back door is opening… yes, Mrs Smith is coming out with a basket full of washing, setting it down on the patio, looking up at the sky doubtfully. She is returning indoors, this is not looking good… Oh it’s okay, she has come out with a peg bucket. We do know wooden pegs are being used, having been found the most effective and environmentally friendly method of hanging up the washing. Now she is looking up at the sky again, a large black cloud has appeared, this is the sort of dilemma faced with English weather.’

‘Yes Sally, the Met Office has confirmed rain is sweeping in from the west and we hand over to our kitchen correspondent Claire who can confirm Mrs Smith has brought the washing back into the kitchen.’

‘Mrs Smith is putting the washing into the tumble drier, clearly distressed at the change of mission plan. It may be a surprise to some viewers, that like many English homes, the washing machine and tumble drier are in the kitchen, the Smith’s home has no utility room. At this point we should ask Mike, our reporter on environmental issues, what impact it will have, the use of electricity to dry the washing instead of wind and solar power.’

‘Yes this is bad news…’

‘If you are just joining us, after a long stressful day we await to see if all the Smith family get home safely for their dinner. Mr Smith is cooking this evening. John, how common is it for husbands to do the cooking?’

‘More common than you might think. We understand that Mr Smith works an early shift so Mrs Smith has a busy morning getting the children ready for school, tidying up after breakfast, taking them to school on her way to her job for 9.30 am. Mr Smith is responsible for collecting them from school and Mrs Smith is expected home any moment, hopefully before the children get too hungry. Sam is outside in Acacia Avenue awaiting her return.’

‘Yes John I can see her red car coming round the corner and this is the hard part where she must make a sharp turn onto the narrow driveway and line up to plug in her electric car to charge overnight.’

‘After a few tense moments the family are sitting at the table and Mr Smith is removing and switching off all electronic devices.’

Any viewers rejoining us I can report that the dishwasher was successfully loaded after dinner and our couple are now making preparations for bed. If we can get the camera in closer to the dishwasher, yes a red light is showing the cycle has finished. At this stage it is important to… good, Mrs Smith has opened the door and left it ajar, this ensures optimum drying conditions in the dishwasher. Meanwhile her husband has ventured out to the back garden to fetch Alfie the dog in and has now locked the back door. I can confirm the back door has been safely locked.

Rejoin us at six am tomorrow to see if the family have made it safely through the night.

Friday Flash Fiction – Letter Box

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I must have ticked the wrong box, how else did I volunteer to deliver leaflets for a candidate in the local elections? New in the area, I recalled filling in an on line survey for opinions on what the council should do for us. I had plenty of ideas. I did not tick the box for the weekly gardening in the park, that was my craft morning. I did not tick the box for the Sunday morning litter pick, I was Facetiming Australia.

I did put my email address to avoid revealing where I actually lived, so that was how I came to receive a message from Nathan Nabor, standing for election once again.

Thanks so much for volunteering to deliver our leaflets, your support is greatly valued. I shall bring them round tomorrow evening, let me know if that’s convenient.

I replied Yes, after all he did not know where I lived, that was probably a generic message to all his supporters.

The next day I arrived home from my part time job and there he was on the doorstep with a hefty bag adorned with a ChatGPT improved image of himself.

‘Mrs Gullible, delighted to meet you. New in the area I gather, divorced or widowed?’

I was a little taken aback, was this an appropriate way for a pillar of the community to speak?

‘DFL’ I replied.

‘Divorced from London?’

‘Down From London, making a new start, getting involved.’

‘Excellent, excellent.’

What on earth possessed me to say involved when I had dreamed of a quiet life as an artist? I wasn’t actually an artist yet, but it was worth a try.

‘Is it okay if I come in so I can show you the ropes?’

He was already in the hall with one foot in my little kitchen diner. The small table barely had room for the mound of leaflets and envelopes spilling out of the bag.

‘Letters addressed to engaged voters we have spoken to, leaflets for every home and a map. You’ll need that being new, even our veteran leafleteers need a map.

So it was that I found myself in a strong south westerly blowing straight off the sea, wending my way round steep lanes, among the cottages that had looked so full of character when I was house hunting.  Every front door was accessible only by twisted flights of steps, worn down by generations of feet. Descent was more hazardous than the ascent. No two doors had their letter box in the same position. Occasionally a letter would drop in easily, but most involved a battle with the bristles. One was so tight I thought my hand was stuck. When I managed to pull it out, my engagement ring was missing.  Good riddance, I had tried to sell it, but it was not worth anything. Would the occupant notice a piece of jewellery on their doormat?

The front doors that put up the greatest battles were also the ones with ferocious dogs on the other side. I tried to get out through the front gate before an irate owner opened his front door. I stumbled a few times, how embarrassing if I fell down and broke something. The poor householder who didn’t want a leaflet and was probably cooking dinner, would be confronted with a 999 situation in their front garden.

I knew many householders in this town did not welcome strangers judging by the notices on the door or fixed nearby.

NO CALLERS

NO UNSOLICITED TRADERS

NO CANVASERS

NO JUNK MAIL

NO JW.ORG

WE DO NOT SPEAK TO PERSONS TOUTING FOR BUSINESS, PLEASE LEAVE AND DO NOT RETURN.

I hoped election leaflets were not junk mail, but were they canvassing? I omitted some homes, erring on the side of caution. It was now raining, but I only had one more lane to do, 12 letters, 36 leaflets and a lovely view of the sea, or would have been without the rainy mist rolling in.

My mistake was getting over confident in my new mountain goat agility, the rain was making stone steps slippery. The leaflet ripped as I tried to slip it in a wooden door that had not seen paint or varnish for decades. I stuffed the torn paper in my pocket and started again with a new leaflet. Ferocious barking was followed by bellowing.

‘WHO THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT AT THE DOOR … SHUT UP RUFUS’.

I beat a hasty retreat, but one foot got left behind and the other foot left me behind. I ended up in a crumpled heap against the rickety front gate. My brain said I could get up, but my body disagreed. Please body, don’t tell me I have a broken ankle.

My body replied ‘What do you think that loud crack was and that horrendous pain?’

My brain said ‘Get your mobile phone out and dial 999 before that man comes out.’

But my phone was tucked safely in my back pack and I was lying on my back pack. At that moment the front door opened.

Have you ever been a leafleteer?

Non digital visitors are coming Chez Tidalscribe for the Easter holidays, who knows what will happen to my blog or Mrs Gullible…

Saying Grace

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And now, new on BBC Radio Four, a well known author, blogger and podcaster, brings her unique views to radio. Grace Darling says it as it is…

Hello and welcome. Here we are going to talk about anything and everything. Do you ever wake up in the middle of the night and wonder why it took humans so long to invent the bicycle or where Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor goes to do his shopping now?

My guests this week are not revealing their names in case they are persecuted in social media, but I’m sure they will chip in with some acerbic comments.

What careers did you aspire to when you were at school? I wanted to be a journalist, but my home town only had one newspaper and nothing happened to be reported anyway. Now we can all be journalists with the wonders of PressWords and suchlike. My blog Scribbletide. com has millions of followers, some of them even genuine.

My next career idea in sixth form was to be a Political Editor, they don’t seem to have to do much except talk a lot and occasionally stand out in the rain.  Where did all these talking heads come from? That girl you went to school with who wanted to be a hairdresser, suddenly appears on ‘Late Night News for Intelligent People’ as Chief Financial Editor of The Times. How on earth did she get there?

I blame it on Brexit. Endless discussions on what the results might be, followed by wailing and gnashing of teeth when the results came out and then interminable years of talking with the EU on how to do it. When Brexit was finally signed and sealed we had a world wide pandemic to commentate on plus Trump in Triumph and the game of musical chairs in our Cabinet.

My father loves to watch all the political and serious news programmes, with a running commentary

‘He’ll be gone next, she’ll be getting a vote of no confidence by the end of the week.’

My mother meanwhile will be busy knitting and making her own comments ‘I don’t care how clever that woman is, nobody with such an irritating voice should be allowed on television or radio. Oh for goodness sake, what does he look like, has he glanced in a mirror lately?’

Her knitting group once knitted the whole royal wedding, William and Catherine. While her friends created exquisite uniforms, beautiful dresses and realistic faces, Mother was consigned to knit the corgis. I don’t know if Sarah Fergusson, formerly known as The Duchess of York, knits, but she has apparently cottoned on to a more sophisticated method of copying corgis. The late Queen’s corgis were ill advisedly bequeathed to Andrew and Sarah and expected to live out their days in Windsor Great Park. We hear Sarah had plans to have them cloned and make money selling royal corgi cloned puppies. Do not try this at home, it is illegal in this country to clone your dog.

Another animal swept Trump from the headlines this week, the escape of a giant guineapig caused great excitement in Hampshire. Two Capybara sisters escaped soon after their arrival at Marwell Zoo, one huddled under a bush and was easily caught, while the other has been on the loose for over a week, with sightings but no chance of capture.

But let us finish today’s programme on a cultural note. The Bayeux tapestry is returning to England after more than 900 years in France. But whose idea was it? A French antique arts expert, defender of the tapestry, told me of his shock when watching President Macron and our Prime Minister having a jolly chat.  Then out of the blue, in a throw away remark, Macron says ‘We’re sending the Bayeux Tapestry to England.’

What!!! That has never been mentioned and art experts were never consulted. The whole tapestry will fall to pieces if it’s moved…

Watch this space. If it disintegrates in England we will have to make them a new one and how long will that take?

Well that’s it for this week folks, my thanks to my guests, oh I’ve just realised I did not give them a chance to speak….

If you would like to listen to this week’s episode again you can listen later on BBC Radio Four Extra, BBC World Service and anytime on your smart speaker or whatever devices you know how to work with BBC Sounds.

What ideas would you like Grace to ponder on next week?

Tuesday Tiny Tale – Fear

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‘Daddy, can we go and watch the drones being shot down?’

‘What…oh er yes, just leave me in peace to relax by the pool.’

‘Archie Darling, are you sure it’s safe?’

‘Yes of course Fi, this is a top hotel, relax, we’re on holiday, the doctor told you to take it easy till the baby arrives.’

‘Daaad, if you had let us bring our phones on holiday we’d be able to see what’s going on.’

‘You don’t need to know what is going on Charlotte, the hotel management will let us know anything important. Don’t they look after us splendidly every year?’

‘Archie, it is a bit different this year.’

‘Yes, but it will all settle down as quickly as it blew up.’

‘Dad, that family on our floor were packing up this morning… and those people we were swimming with yesterday.’

‘Panicking, we’re British, we don’t panic.’

‘Oh God Arch, what was that?’

‘Way off in the distance, a drone they didn’t manage to shoot down, we’re fine up here. Anyway, it’s time we got dressed for dinner. Charlotte, go and find your little brothers.’

‘Oh look, those people on our floor are coming back with their suitcases. There are a lot of people at reception, asking the staff… I’m going to go over and find out what’s going on.’

‘Gossiping no doubt.’

 ‘Darling, they are all saying the airport is closed, they did not know what to do so they came back. That couple we were chatting to yesterday are talking about getting a driver, maybe forming a convoy. What do you think we should do?’

‘Fiona, we are not driving across the dessert with all the kids and you eight months pregnant. The airport will be up and running again by the time we’re due to leave. There you are kids, come on, dinner time.’

‘What do you mean the head chef didn’t turn up… limited menu and a delay? Ah here’s the manager, I’m going to complain.’

‘Down to the basement, don’t you think you are over reacting? I appreciate you have to think of the safety of your guests, but sending us down to the basement without any dinner is hardly going to help… 

…Fiona, pop up to our room and get a few things for the children if we’re going to be stuck in the basement for a couple of hours.’

‘Archie, the lifts are switched off.’

‘Will you be alright on the stairs?’

‘They are not letting anybody up to the ninth floor.’

‘Daddy, is this a real war? That boy said they are going to give us all guns.’

‘Don’t listen to what other children are saying, now you stay with Mummy while I pop outside to see for myself what is going on.’

‘… and we are going over to Gatwick Airport now as the first plane evacuating British holiday makers lands. Families are waiting to be reunited after days of worry.

Good Evening, are you glad to be back home?’

‘Oh yes, we were holed up in our hotel basement for a week, we did not have any idea what was going to happen.’

‘You of course had priority with the children.’

‘Yes it all happened very suddenly, we just grabbed a few things, the children thought it was a bit of an adventure, didn’t you kids?’

‘I left teddy behind…’

‘I had to leave my hair straighteners behind.’

‘.. and your father.’

‘Oh yes, we left Daddy behind.’

Tuesday Tiny Tale 250 – The Echo

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‘I don’t know why you bother buying the Echo, there’s never any news in it.’

‘I thought I would find out what happened round the corner yesterday, headline on the front page.’

‘Nothing happened yesterday.’

‘Why were there three police cars then? Here it is…

 Man Arrested in Dunholme Avenue. Charlie Sharp who lives in Dunholme Avenue said “We don’t usually get police cars around here, I don’t know what was going on.”

Masie Mason said “I was just returning from walking Alfie my poodle and I was astonished to see the commotion, it’s usually very quiet around here. I saw a man being put in the back of the police car.”

Another neighbour who wished to remain anonymous said “Someone just moved into that house. It’s very worrying, this used to be a nice neighbourhood.”

Jack, who did not want to give his surname, said “I was just coming out of my front door to take Bubbles my cockerpoo for a walk, we always go the same time each day, when he started barking and I said What’s up Bubbles? Then I saw three police cars driving off. The people that lived there before had a dog, Bubbles’ best friend, he was a caverpoo. I don’t think the new people have a dog.”

The Echo contacted Hambourne police station, but a spokesperson said they could not comment.

The Echo should have interviewed me, I could have told them about all those screams I heard the night before.’

Thursday Tiny Tale – Death Where is Thy Sting?

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Mrs De-Ath hurried along the high street on Monday morning to open her florists on time, but she stopped dead in her tracks as she passed the window of the new people.

We Put the Fun in Funerals said the bright yellow sign at the top of the display.  Filling the large bay shop window was what could only be described as a model fairground meeting a pop festival and all drenched in a rainbow.

They had heard only that a funeral directors was moving into the vape shop closed down by the police. That had seemed excellent news with the prospect of new customers ordering wreaths and perhaps the occasional imaginative arrangement. The shop had been boarded up for a few weeks with the hopeful noises of improvements.

She peered closer at the Barbie doll lying in a pink coffin. Above it was a rainbow shaped notice.

No need to wait for the Grim Reaper, pop in now for free coffee and cakes and meet our jolly crew.

As Mrs De-Ath shook her head in bewilderment and looked at her watch, the door flew open and a figure like an aging Alice in Wonderland stepped out.

‘Greetings, you’re Mrs Death from the flower shop aren’t you?’

‘Mrs Delia De-Ath from the florist.’

‘Well I’m sure we’re going to get along, I’m Morticia.  I hope you have lots of exotic flowers.’

‘Um, our customers are quite a conservative bunch… it’s all daffodils and tulips at the moment.’

‘I hope to change that then, I expect your locals could do with a good shake up.’

‘I think a good shake up might finish them off.’

‘All the better, more customers for me.’

Morticia went off into gales of laughter.

Delia scurried away, mumbling about opening times.

She did not have any customers that morning, everyone in town seemed to be popping in to meet Morticia. After lunch a gaunt young man dressed as a Goth sidled into the shop.

‘Greetings, Edwin, Edwin Drood, Morticia’s assistant, glad to meet you Delia. Now, do you have black daffodils?’

‘Goodness, no such thing. I thought bright colours were the er… theme of your establishment.’

‘Do I look as if I like bright colours? We cater for all tastes and our first customer is a Goth, was a Goth. We can get the black horses and the glass hearse, but his widow thought it would be a real laugh to have black flowers.’

‘The nearest I can do is dark purple tulips, or if there is time, perhaps I could see if my supplier could obtain a black orchid.’

Whatever Delia De-Ath thought of the new funeral directors, she felt she couldn’t turn down any business. The whole parade of shopkeepers and many locals turned out to see the Goth’s hearse leave. In a carriage behind, the widow and family all wore black orchids.

When Delia heard that they were going to have a biker’s funeral she wondered what the turnout would be and what the biker would be carried in. A large order of sunflowers did not fit the biker image.

On the day a huge line up of motorbikes blocked the high street and had shoppers gawping. They were all dressed in bright colours and greeting each other effusively, laughing and joking and sharing stories of Mad Mike. Delia approached Morticia who was even more colourful than usual.

‘What will his coffin come in?’

‘Oh no coffin, his bike’s on a trailer, as per Mike’s wishes. Ah here he is…’

Delia gasped. ‘That’s surely not him, sitting ON the bike, grinning?’

‘Yes, he wanted to be plasticized.’

Tidalscribe Tales – New Review

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Today my short story collection Tidalscribe Tales features on Smorgasbord, Sally Cronin’s very popular blog. She is a great supporter of fellow authors and regularly promotes their books. In this blog you can read Sally’s review and also an extract from one of the stories.

https://smorgasbordinvitation.wordpress.com/2026/03/04/smorgasbord-book-promotions-2026

Turn to my Books page to see all my novels and collections.

Weird Wednesday – Mind Boggling

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Do you find new technology mind boggling? By new I mean anything that you did not personally know about this time last week. Do you find recent innovations mind boggling? By recent I mean anything that has happened since you left school.

You obviously think you know about technology otherwise you would not be reading this on a device of some sort, but do you know how it actually works? If you do, please let the rest of us know. For most of us the mysterious workings are akin to alchemy or the dark arts. Chips are involved and are made of silicone, rather than potatoes and silicone is made from sand. There is plenty of sand on the beach, but what happens next?

On line workings are supposedly run by AI, or computers as we used to call them, but how come these logical beings have a very human urge to deliberately annoy us?

I can do all sorts of things on line, but Arty Imp lulls me into a false sense of security and confidence. Browsing wallpaper on B&Q’s site on my desk top ( I like to see everything on a large screen ) it offered to send samples for a small remuneration. I put several into the shopping basket, already I could picture how my attic office might look. I put in my order as a guest, it wouldn’t let me, it seemed I had joined B&Q Club when I bought one garden chair on line. I looked up my little notebook and typed in my email and the password I had presumably used last time. It did not recognise it. No problem, just pretend I had forgotten it. Nothing would enable me to get a password they approved of, links were sent to my email, texted to me… I gave up, it would be easier to take two buses to my nearest B&Q where I would not see the wallpapers I liked, because they had already told me they were only available on line… Anyway, not as if it was important… but thinking outside the box later I decided to pretend I was a new customer and use my other email address, Not join the club, say No to being on the emailing list. I did not want any sort of relationship, just the wallpaper samples. My purchase went straight through with reassuring emails and they soon arrived in the post. Of course, obviously if I choose one I like they will not actually let me buy a whole roll…

To check how Tech Savy you are take this simple test.

You want to send money to your nephew for his birthday. Do you

  1. Use face recognition or finger print to do a bank transfer on your phone
  2. Get on the bus and go to the nearest town that still has a branch of your bank open and talk to a human behind the desk.

It’s your sister’s birthday today, do you

  1. WhatsApp her to arrange a time to Facetime
  2. Ring her on your landline.

You have not heard from your elderly aunt for a few days, do you

  1. Play a round of Words With Friends on your phone and see if she plays back.
  2. Call her house phone from your house phone which is firmly tethered by a wire.

You need a relaxing evening after dealing with technology all day, do you

  1. Stream a box set of a new drama and stay up all night binge watching
  2. Look in the newspaper or Radio Times to see what’s on BBC before the ten o’clock news.

If you answered A to all the questions welcome to the first quarter of the 21st century, but beware what you will face in this next quarter.

If you answered B every time you just might be able to cope if all the electricity is switched off, perhaps…

But how is the present matching up to the future predicted in the 20th century? We are not sitting at a phone table with a curly wire attaching our phone to the wall and a little TV screen showing a live picture of our relatives on the other side of the world.

The first ‘mobile phones’ most of us saw were on Star Trek, some of us watching in black and white. Their hand held flip up devices could Teleport them down to a strange planet, but they could not take photos, text their friends, watch videos or Facetime with friends on the other side of the universe. It may have slowed the plot if they had to play back on Quiz Planet before stepping on to their platform.

On arrival on the new planet they stop to take a selfie together in front of a strange volcano so they can put it on Instagram. Then Captain Kirk pauses to take a picture of the Aliens who have crept up without them noticing. He wants to WhatsApp a picture to his mother billions of light years away.

Meanwhile a junior officer has not noticed the aliens as he is bending down to snap strange plants using the plant recognition App.

His colleague is glued to the screen exclaiming ‘210 points for OXO, how did he do that and I’ve got all vowels’.

Captain Kirk is now on Google maps, having failed to understand what the Aliens are saying, their language is not coming up on his translation App.

The weather App was not much use either as it failed to predict the electric storm and downpour of acid rain. It seems like a good time to beam up, but their phones need recharging…

Did you score A or B or perhaps AB? What is your favourite 21st Century invention?