One of the fonts of all knowledge these days is Wikipedia. Strange that it should be so, because it’s written (on the whole) by “Joe Public”, and not by any particular expert. And should there be any articles written by an expert, any fool can replace wisdom with tripe. Over the years I’ve put some tripe on Wikipedia myself. You can see that I corrected an article on the marital status of Mrs Bridges (from “Upstairs Downstairs”). I amended the spelling of the article on the Hargreaves rule (from “The Adventure Game”). I re-wrote the information on my home
However, you can’t see that I put up the corrected lyrics to the Treacle People theme tune, because some do-gooder removed them. Neither can you see anything at all about the British Kite Flying Association, because another do-gooder deleted the entire article that I wrote. It’s primarily for this reason that I don’t bother with Wikipedia any more. Which is a shame. Without wishing to boast, but with graduate qualifications in three completely different subjects, it’s no secret that in my more lucid moments, I’m actually something of a genius. A modest genius, but a genius nonetheless. I could contribute quite a bit to the Wikipedia project. But why should I bother, when any fool can come round after me and amend, change or delete my efforts.
It would seem I’m not alone in feeling this way. Wikipedia would seem to be losing contributors hand-over-fist. I’m not surprised.
And being the last Wednesday of the month, it was arky-ologee club. Tonight’s talk was about the river Wensome. Now silted up, in years gone by it was a thriving hive of industry, as evidenced by a few manky old bits of broken pot that have been found in the vicinity. From these manky old bits of broken pot, those with little better to do with their time try to work out what life was like back in those days. Well, for the benefit of future generations, I’ve taken to writing this blog so grandchildren yet unborn can read it and find out first hand what they missed in the early twenty first century. I’m hoping this would be marginally less painful than having to sit through the torture I sat through tonight.
And then in “show and tell”, one of the biddies brought out some rusty lumps of metal which may once have been something agricultural, something lethal, or both. A scary looking individual brandished “Dick Turpin” style hand guns. And I don’t even get a pint afterwards for being good any more. I must admit I am beginning to question why I go…