July 23rd, 2008


Marital telepathy

Marital telepathy is a most terrible thing.

A little over a fortnight ago, we were driving back across France. We'd passed Rheims and were on the A26 heading towards the Channel ports, enjoying the fact that traffic levels are much lower on the French péage motorways than they are elsewhere.

And she turns to me and says "You know, I don't think I've seen a British number plate yet today."

What's scary was that the very same thought had just crossed my mind too.

I can't say what it could have been that triggered that thought just then. We'd been on the road for some hours, but we weren't remarking on something we'd just seen, we were remarking on something we'd not seen. We've only once before driven in France together, and that was back last millennium, so it's not a "we always see one around here" thing. It's not even that we were dwelling on the road's nickname ("Autoroute des Anglais"), which I'd not mentioned.

For what it's worth, we saw a British plate about ten minutes later, and started seeing them reasonably frequently thereafter.

Oh my dear goodness

If you are carrying a laptop full of secure information, you are supposed to take good care of it.

You should especially bear in mind that laptops are highly desirable to the criminal fraternity, being both high value and (by design) portable.

The one thing you should not do is take it to what is one of the worst theft blackspots in Western Europe, and expect to be able to keep your hands on it.

But oh no, an MoD official put his down while he checked out of the Adelphi Hotel in Liverpool.

Report in the Grauniad