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I was intrigued by the news I'd seen the other day, as a fan of the teevee show 'Person Of Interest', which has an AI which oversees man, in New York.

In the piece that fascinated me so, it was shown that someone has written an algorithim that can allow 'the system', to track a shoppers habits on the high-street, having already ascertained the age and gender, to a reasonable degree. It was being tested, to some success in a shopping centre.

Having seen a version of the technology used in 'Person of Interest', all I can say is ... “it sure sounds like 'the machine' to me.”

Feeling... rotten, I chose to listen to the first in the series of stories in the Doctor Who Ravenous story-arc; and quite enjoying it, I caught on to the use of polish fighters, as an exemplar of how immigrants are useful to Britain today. To my mind it had worked well and employed history as a tool in which to get the message of useful migration.

Days passed and, I saw another report about an AI recognition system, being tested by the Met and the Welsh police, as requested under the Data Protection Act. This system has shown a ninety-eight per cent failure rate. And 'they' say not to worry, “it's only a test”, without acknowledging the mistakes that have already occurred with some of the stored data.

A day after seeing the news of the ninety-eight per-cent failure rate with the police recognition AI system I heard a new piece of interest on the radio, early morning.
It seems Google is assisting the american military with it's Maevern Programme, with its expertise and database and, some employees are leaving the company in complaint.
The system allows for AI recognition software in drones.

I heard of this the day after Israel used drones to kill up to 65 Palestinians.

And I do cope pretty well, with each complaint and Dad and now Ian, mosttimes; but the other Friday had been a bad day, not that I have much real memory of the day, from late afternoon onwards. The first I knew of my confusion was waking up, at 11:45 p.m. sitting in bed dressed.
The next day I'd told Dad, “I'll pick up your script on Monday.”

It'd been then that I'd been told that I'd picked up his meds on the Friday...

Then, about noon on the Sunday I got a phone-call from a fella I know, asking if I was alright and, eventually explaining that he'd been asked to ring, by a work colleague who had seen me on Friday.
After what had happened with my friends after my accident, the phone-call had truly pleased me...

That incident and visits by friends from afar had made for a better week than I'd expected...

well, having made my Father's evening meal, I walking away from the table frowning, after he'd answered my question, “Do you like your meal.”

I had been mollified, but amused as I'd not expected more.

Yet, I had still turned round and explained, “I made you what I thought you'd really like, brocollie and garlic toasted, with broccoli and barley and chhese and potatoes and... it's alright...”

So, I walked through to the living - room and with a grin, I'd vented to my brother.

“I make him cordon bleu meals and, to him its Gordon Blehhh...”

And having vented, I'd returned to the kitchen to finish making my soup.

At least I do have someone, to use my culinary skills for, that I do appreciate...

Much as Ian's stay did little for my Father's routine, or my peace of mind, I did find it interesting that we'd talked properly, more than I'd done with him for decades.

Prior to him travelling to Kiev, I had been walking through the living-room and Ian had been sat in one of the armchairs, with all his medical gear around him, as he awaitied the district nurse.

“He looks bored,” Ian had said with a chuckle, playing with his iPad and looking toward Dad.
“When he was like this and Mum was alive, I can recall her saying to me, 'Find something to break.' And, she'd meant it.”

It had been a brief memory of our Mum, shared: and Ian had kinda just nodded, which had seemed appropriate, somehow...

yeah, yeah... I'd been talking of friends, who are... I went to Karl's and, he'd been kind enough to help me obtain several who-related stories from Big-Finish, utilising his Pay-Pal account.

Now, I'd been that chuffed to get home with new who to hear that as soon as able I'd plugged my usb into a laptop, with the idea of unpacking as many files as possible and join them together. My mistake had been doing too much all-at-once and, on this occasion it had been highly frustrating: but... within a safe amount of time, I'd soon been listening to classic who, albeit audio – and, enjoying it, a lot...

And, I wanted to... tried to... get this finished several times. The last time I was interrupted by Dad coming in from the rain, having gone to the local walk-in centre and our doctor, by bike.

He had been annoyed... wet and... annoyed... but, expectant of an appointment at 3:45 p.m. Then, as he'd been drinking a hot cup of tea and I'd been making his bed, the phone had rung. It transpires that his appointment had been cancelled, by the head of the practice, current General Practice being that anything to do with eyelids has to been seen by an optician.

Needless to say, that had not gone down well with Dad, at all.

Perhaps it was the chest infection, which dragged me down mentally, or the recent news, but I got dwelling on the nature of what's important to me, as I took on the news of certain deaths and how they had affected me. So, with a coffee in a blue plastic cup, that reminds me of Barry I sit down to type out my thoughts about how they affected me.

First of all was Owen, the big ginger station cat. His death had really got to me and, as I'm not an animal lover, that had surprised me greatly. But, Owen was an individual, a cat of discerning tastes. I mean, he liked me. Weird cat.

Then there had been the death of Ken Dodd, a man who I grew up with, who had absurd looks and possessed a comedic talent that I don't feel will ever be equalled. And then, there had been Professor Stephen Hawking, who showed us all that a handicap doesn't have to hold you back. Heck, that fellow defied all expectations in many ways and yes I admired him...

Come Saturday Dad and I both decided that the weathers been colder than it's ever been and, my knees had agreed with him. There had been more snow, albeit not much. But we did work well together on the Sunday, when a bolt sheared on my bed. Then come Sunday night I'd sat on the side of the aforementioned, to type out my thoughts, as I had listened to 'The Kraken Wakes' through my headphones...

Getting the dole to accept I'm as ill as I am was hard enough. I also had to accept it myself and, find a way to adapt, that would suit me. Besides which, I hadn't favoured any of the options thrown at me. So I'd opted for a non-invasive, no tablet way, that depends on my imagination for sustenance.

I have the fodmap diet I follow and vary, albeit a awkward, at time and, I do like the soups I make and my cream-shake that can be a sweet and, one of the nicest ever... You take a banana and two thirds of a punnet of blueberry’s and place them inna blender, with about half a tub of single-cream [I use Elmlea]; then mix. (You might need to add a little milk and whisk, after refrigeration.)

Now if one uses double-cream instead of single, it gets thick quick and has to be dolloped by spoon into your suitable container, prior to refrigeration. And the small effort it takes to make, is ever so worthwhile. As sweets go, it's really tasty and filling, an good for me...

I found shopping difficulty 'the other day', being able to kneel down onto my right knee, then had difficulty rising. So, I'd sought the doctor's help and ended up being told to go get a x-ray on both my knee and my chest.

And so, as I sit and type on the edge of my bed cross-legged as usual, the knee aches and standing is hard to do, but I do and will carry on, as I've learned to do.

I do not sleep as I used to, although I have learned to like the sound of passing ducks early on and, the pigeon on the roof next door, the coos loudly on the dawning. That is, when it isn't raining and boy there's been a lot of that of late. Our back lawn is made of clay-ee soil and, with all the rain we've had of late, it's now most bog-like indeed.

An talking of writing, considering all that's going on of late, it's been difficult to collect my thoughts together at times, yet that said, I did finish a second story since the fall and, I'm really quite pleased with the piece, albeit I have noticed that since the fall my style of writing has simplified somewhat, which I do find interesting.

I was taught by my little mother to take responsibility for my own actions; but it does seem that isn't a way that applies to all, it seems.

On Thursday I had gone through to the kitchen, after my friend had left and prior to my Father going to bed. The phone had rung and feeling somewhat dubious, I'd picked up the receiver.

“This is Manchester Airport,” I'd been told, “We needed to confirm the address for Ian Kendrick, so as to send on his bags.”

Then, about ten minutes later as my soup cooked, I'd walked out to the bin, to empty some rubbish and heard my brother's voice behind me. I'd gone to the gate, unlocked it and Ian had entered, as he'd wanted.

This is my brother, who had just arrived from Oz, after going there to escape hassles in Devon and burning all his bridges here. Then, we he finds issues there, he first sought money from my Father, to get him 'home', then found another reason to borrow a little less. And then, there'd been the, “I'll be arriving” bit, where he expects our lives to be turned upside down again, 'coz he turns out, after walking away from something, yet again.

Then, Thursday as I'm thinking of making my soup, the phone had rung, from a number I later found was a mobile number and, the woman was confirming my address, while using my phone number, which I had thought more than a tad strange.

But then, I could add the words 'somehow expected', to 'a tad strange', 'coz that how it felt, to me.

And yes, talking of strange; the expected happened. Ian arrived, with all the ensuing chaos that I'd thought would follow. But, thinking of little Mum, I'd made him as welcome as she'd have wanted, while placating my Father, who wasn't too keen on having his routine disturbed.

He did depart, eventually; and meanwhile I’d looked after him, as my little Mother would have and, would have wanted of me, which I had been cool with.

Although that said, I hadn’t been cool with changing the bedding in the backroom twice in a month, which is what had occurred. Yet, the relative calm that followed his departure was… pleasant.

Ah… pleasant…

Well, after nights and days of rain, the Wednesday had brought pleasant weather at last and, Lucie had called in the evening, after my knee-rest.

As I’d made the coffee I’d spoken briefly about how I felt betrayed by my ‘friends’ in Wallasey and how I was disheartened by their lack of concern shown for me, after my fall. Then, seeking some adequate distraction, I had asked, ‘Do you know of Arthur Askey?’

Now, I’d asked this of a male friend days prior and was a little surprised that he had not known of Arthur Askey, so wasn’t too surprised this time, when she had said, ‘Who?’

Well, that had given me the chance to play ‘just five minutes’ of an old black and white film,
‘The Ghost Train’, in which he starred.

Lucie had seemed to appreciate the film, so I’d left it on and time had flown, too quickly.
I still like the film, as much as I had and, the characters in it are so well drawn and, I’d got to hear Arthur Sing and use the one catchphase of his I can emulate, ‘I thank you.’

I’d also been struck by just how much the station in the film looked like I recall Bromborough station looking like, particularly the waiting room, as it had been and, the train billowing with steam as it passed under a bridge to enter the station. And yes, I recalled Bromborough station, just like that, when I’d been… five or six, in nineteen sixty five, or so.

Then, after learning Ian is going to turn up again, I needed distraction, goodstye...

I found it through a Batman cartoon-film. Now I have many of them, in many different styles and content... but...

Up until I decided to make a Batman cartoon-film dvd for someone, I'd not seen Batman Ninja. Yet, that is the name of a very, very different kind of Batman film, with many of the usual characters in it, all portrayed in a manga-style.

Then, while still seeking distraction, I decided to channel my thoughts while downloading stuff and writing. That plan had been all very good, until I read an article online in which someone was whining about how many nmarvel films they'd have to see, before 'Avenger – Infinity War'.

So out of curiosity, I went to a site I use and typed in 'Avengers', then shortly afterwards I'd see Stan Lee making his usual cameo in a Marvel film and, the copy of the film hadn't been too bad, at all.

And so... for awhile, suitable distraction had been found.

Well, on Friday he phoned about seven, saying he was going to Arrowe Park hospital, with his foot.
Now, he knew I'd seen the photo of his foot, so would probably oblige him - of that I am sure.
"You know my time-keeping," says I, aware that he does, since his previous stay over.
"I'll phone you and let you know what is happening," he told me; "whether I'm having an operation, or whatever."
So come ten at night, I prepared the laundry for Dad for the next day, got the needle and thread to stitch holes in my bag and began to type out the story, as best I could.
Then, at exactly 12:00 I had got a brief email from Ian, with the title in hospital. It has just said, 'yes, will let you know.'
Needless to say, by then I was wired and well-awake... and, needing distraction again.
And... this ramble is over for Now... I have a DVD to make.