Yesterday, in the context of the first passenger service of the new Metro train, I said:

with the UK’s public realm and infrastructure suffering from long term under-investment, it looks like we’ll be stuck with cascading sets of problems for years to come.

And how. By yesterday evening, the Metro network had been bisected: it has been judged unsafe for trains to travel in the tunnels which live under Gateshead’s 1960s flyover, which has been assessed as in danger of collapse.

This means that the Tyne can no longer be crossed by Metro. The works on the Tyne Bridge, as well as the flyover being closed, make road crossings of the Tyne in the city centre challenging, exacerbated by the closure of the High Level Bridge to most traffic some years ago.

The nearby Swing Bridge hasn’t swung in years, and the car park beneath the nearby Redheugh Bridge has been cordoned off because of the risk of bits of concrete dropping off it.

The Tyne Tunnels are restricted at weekends as one is needing maintenance closures to ’protect its long-term future’ only 13 years after its last nine-month refurbishment closure. The ferry across the Tyne has been closing early for weeks, and is expected to continue to do so for months, due to staff shortages.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I’m so lucky to be able to walk to work and avoid this chaos.

A lot has been written recently about the development of artificial intelligence tools hitting a wall: that is, we’re reaching a point where the pace of improvement in models has slowed considerably. Some have made the point that this may not matter as we’re not yet close to exploiting even a fraction of what the existing models can do.

I think this is a reasonable take. One of my main uses of ChatGPT has been to help with the finer points of coding. I’m not really a coder, but I occasionally throw together a bit of PHP or Javascript to solve a specific problem: to tweak the output of an ical feed, for example, or to tweak the layout of a webpage, or to use an api to very quickly check public transport departures for a specific stop. This has been made much easier by being able to paste the code into ChatGPT and ask: “Why isn’t this working?!”

But just recently, I’ve been playing with the ChatGPT api and plugging in into some of those small scripts—with great results. When my alarm goes off in the morning, ChatGPT gives me a quick, sensible verbal briefing on my calendar events, tasks and so forth before I’ve even opened my eyes. I plug it into scripts where I’d like the wording to be a bit varied rather than identical every time, with pretty good results each time.

None of these things are lifechanging, but they are the sorts of small quality of life improvements that haven’t yet become commonplace—but will no doubt spread over coming years.

There are few things more likely to make my eyes roll than the headline:

Wallace’s response to MasterChef claims was misogynistic, says No 10

The fact that a television presenter has made people feel uncomfortable by acting inappropriately is serious, and ought to be dealt with seriously by his employer and, perhaps, his employer’s commissioner. The fact that early complaints to the BBC appear not to have been adequately acted upon is worthy of investigation. The fact that people face inappropriate behaviour in workplaces across the country and feel powerless to report it is upsetting, and we can only hope that stories like this help to change that narrative.

However… it is slightly absurd that journalists asked for the Prime Minister’s take on an Instagram video made by the television presenter in response to those accusations, and it is truly absurd that the Government responded to them.

The Crime Survey for England and Wales suggests that around 3,000 people became victims of seuxal assualt on the same day that Greg Wallace recorded his unpleasant Instagram rant. Many thousands more will have put up with inappropriate behaviour that they’ve felt powerless to tackle—or, perhaps worse, that they’ve tried to tackle and yet been ignored.

The fact that the No 10 spokesperson didn’t use the opportunity of the question to pivot to talking about the wider issue is a failure of communication.

The fact that the Prime Minister’s attention is evidently distracted by an unpleasant issue outside of his control is a failure of Government.

But… the fact that BBC One has chosen, of all characters, Wallace and Grommit to feature in idents introducing news programmes where another Wallace features heavily is a divine comedic success.

Wendy and I were both struck by the measured tone of this week’s Parliamentary debate on assisted dying.

It’s a complicated topic. To me, the starting point is certainly that assisted death should be legal, but the practicalities are complicated. They are probably best left to people with more expertise than me.

It strikes me that the medicalisation of death complicates the picture. It is not obvious to me that it should be up to doctors to arbitrate on the processes surrounding the universal human experience of death.

It is, of course, appalling to contemplate that representatives of our state religion, in which only a minority of the population express a belief, will get a Parliamentary vote on the issue… but that’s hardly unique to this topic. It is absurd and unjust that bishops continue to sit in the House of Lords, and if this debate forces a re-examination of that issue, then that will be a welcome side effect.

I was particularly interested to read Richard Smith’s thoughts on this week’s debate, as a former editor of the BMJ who has spent much longer thinking about the topic than I have.

As you will no doubt be aware, the Supreme Court of the United Kingdom is currently mulling over the exact definition of a ‘woman’. As The Economist drily noted this week,

Finally, an answer looms for those who wonder what those 34m people in Britain who are not men might be.

The debate about the exact definitions of gender terms is distressingly toxic, and rarely seems to contain much compassion. It also often feels very current, as though it is a debate which could only exist now—which is, of course, nonsense.

We all know this is nonsense, as we all know that the role of women in society has transformed over the last century, and we all know that change always leads to conflict. Of course, there have been repeated, endless debates about the topic.

I learned this week about the case of Gwyneth Bebb vs The Law Society, heard 111 years ago next month. The similarity between the debate then and the debate now is striking.

Bebb wished to become a solicitor, but found herself prevented from doing so by the tradition that only men entered the legal profession. The Solicitors Act of 1843 referred only to a ‘person’ acting as an attorney or solicitor, setting no specific gender boundaries.

And so Bebb asked the Courts to rule on whether a ‘woman’ was a ‘person’—a very similar question to that being considered by the Supreme Court today.

Bizarrely to modern eyes, the Courts ruled that a ‘woman’ was not a ‘person’—not least because married women were unable to enter legal contracts of their own accord.

In the short term, and to Bebb specifically, this was devastating. She died from complications of childbirth aged 31, just a few years after the ruling. Yet, within a decade of the ruling, women were practising law—just as they had a few hundred years before.

I’ve no idea what the Supreme Court will conclude this time around, but I suspect the impact is likely to rhyme with history: society’s views will continue to change at an unprecedented pace, for better and for worse, and people arguing about the exact definitions of words will have little long-term impact.

In 2012, I visited the Tyne Pedestrian and Cyclist tunnels, about a year before they closed for refurbishment. The refurbishment did not go to plan, and the tunnels were closed for six years. I re-visited in 2020 to see how the almost-finished product looked.

I reflected on that visit that the fancy new lifts were not yet up and running. But this week, the better part of five years on, the lifts have finally opened to the public. The tunnels, which are free to access, have also returned to 24/7 opening.

The Tyne and Wear Metro used to have 90 Metrocars formed into 45 trains. The fleet is now well beyond its intended lifespan, and some of the trains have been harvested for parts to keep it running. A while ago, the service frequency was reduced so that only 28 trains are required at peak times.

Yesterday morning, a quarter of the 28 running trains broke down in service. A few weeks ago, there was an afternoon when only twenty trains were available.

Somehow, none of this feels surprising—it feels like yet another example of a public service that no longer works properly, another asset which once evoked civic pride but now feels like a bit of an embarrassment.

There are plans in place to fix things—new trains are coming, for one thing—but reputations lost are hard to regain. Regardless of how quickly it might happen on paper, I wonder how long it will be until the system feels reliable again?

In his Dividing Lines newsletter last week, Tom Hamilton wrote about the absurd and offensive use of war metaphors in political debate.

Here’s Shadow Chancellor Mel Stride, perorating.

“This is a Budget of broken promises, and when the dust has finally settled and this lot have gone, as we step over the fallen—the former farmers, the pensioners, the one-time businesspeople, the poor and the vulnerable—there we will find the shattered remains of the working people of this country, betrayed by a party that lied to them, and they will never forget it.”

Believe it or not – your mileage may vary on this, but I found this astonishing – Stride was actually wearing a poppy as he used this metaphor. Paying tribute to our war dead while saying that pensioners losing their winter fuel allowance are basically in the same category as the boys who got machine-gunned at the Somme. I realise that while it is crass it is not intentionally crass, but it is not obvious to me that this is less disrespectful than defacing a war memorial.

As Tom says, ‘it shouldn’t be too much to ask people who use words for a living to think about the meaning of words.’

But politicians aren’t alone in this. If there’s one word that’s likely to elicit an eye-roll in my office at the moment it’s ‘frontline’, which has not only lost it’s war-based metaphorical meaning, but has seemingly lost all meaning altogether.

Earlier this week, John Prescott sadly died. Here’s the headline on the Sky News article reporting his death:

Former Labour deputy prime minister John Prescott dies aged 86

Long-term readers may think that I’m going to rant about the use of the present tense “dies” rather than the past tense “has died”—this is a persistent and widespread bugbear—but I was more intrigued by the use of the word “Labour” in that headline.

He was—as anyone would be—”deputy prime minister” for the whole country, not just for Labour. It felt an odd, somewhat tribal, somewhat divisive qualification to make, and it didn’t feel familiar.

I suspected that, previously, the headlines have just reported the office of state, not the party affiliation. It seems like this might represent further tribalisation of our politics. But I chose to suspend my disappointment for a bit while I checked my facts.

This is a tricky thing to do: there have only been eight formally appointed deputy prime ministers in the UK, two of whom were Dominic Raab, and all of which—barring John Prescott—are still alive. Sky News has never had to report the death of a former deputy prime minister before.

Reporting on the death of a former prime minister feels qualitatively different from the death of a former deputy, so that doesn’t seem like a fair comparison. But what about holders of the other great offices of state?

The most recent former chancellor to die was, of course, Alastair Darling, late last year. The Sky News headline:

Alistair Darling: Former Labour chancellor dies aged 70

The most recent former home secretary to die was Lord Waddington, in 2017. The Sky News headline:

Former Conservative home secretary Lord Waddington dies aged 87

The most recent former foreign secretary to die was Robin Cook, in 2005, which is further back than the Sky News website archive stretches… but from the examples above, I think we can safely conclude that this isn’t a new practice after all. Sky News has been headlining the party affiliation of dead politicians for years. For what it’s worth, this doesn’t seem to apply to prime ministers (“Margaret Thatcher dies at 87 after stroke”).

So why did it feel unusual? I suspect it is because the BBC doesn’t do it. Their headlines for each of these stories:

Former deputy PM Lord Prescott dies aged 86

Former Chancellor Alistair Darling dies aged 70

Former Home Secretary Lord Waddington dies at age of 87

Former minister Robin Cook dies

Just because the BBC does something doesn’t mean it’s right—in fact, the BBC News house style often riles me. It’s curious that it often nonetheless sets expectations.

The image at the top of this post was generated by DALL·E 3.

I don’t normally like to post big chunks of other people’s text without some commentary, but I really don’t know what to add to this. Sometimes, serendipity means that we come across exactly the right paragraph at exactly the moment we need to read it.

Reflecting on the outcome of the US Presidential Election, Oliver Burkeman wrote in his email newsletter:

You really, really, really don’t know when a given event is, or isn’t, for the best. You can’t know what effect present-day events will have in the long run, and it’s to ignore your status as a limited human being to imagine you ever could. As the old Taoist story has it: “We’ll see.” Remember, it’s one of the normal responses to a diagnosis of critical illness—not the only one, but a commonplace one—to conclude that in the end, it was a wonderful gift, thanks to how it led to a focus on what truly mattered. Seismic political defeats can stoke the fires of renewal or transformation, while victories can breed complacency, leading to worse catastrophe. Of course, the point isn’t that good things always emerge from seemingly bad things—you can’t be sure of that, either! It’s that this radical uncertainty is where you’ve always lived, whether you realized it or not, and the only place from which you’ve ever accomplished anything. You don’t need hope. You can move forward in the dark. You just need to do “with conviction the next and most necessary thing” – which is all you’ve ever been able to do anyway. And there’s room for enjoyment in the middle of it all, too. I come back to John Tarrant’s observation that the average medieval person lived with no understanding of when the next plague, famine or war might come along to utterly upend their lives. If they’d waited until the future looked dependably bright before gathering for festivals, or creating art, or strolling under the stars with friends, they’d have been waiting forever. So they didn’t wait. You don’t need to wait, either.