No Use Crying Over Spilt Milk

Those of you who have kindly become my online friends will know from my writings on the drystone wall that  I have been on the high moors this week. It is good to feel the wind in my hair. I am too modest to say that I cut a fine figure on the horizon, crook in hand, striding purposefully in every direction. And it is this wind that brings me news from the farm far below.

It seems that all is not well with our milk production. There appear to be two main problems. The first concerns me most at a conceptual level - how we have moved from creating a system to record events in the real world to one in which events in the real world cannot occur unless they have been validated and coded. Human nature has been subverted by robotics. The second problem is that farming folk are amazingly idiosyncratic when it comes to completing their dairy daily diaries. The same activity is assigned different codes by different folk, thus creating a situation in which there is not an isometric relationship between the two worlds.   I feel we should be grateful for this, but the village council are upset because the milk has become tainted and is not fit for consumption. You could say it leaves a rather sour taste.