Once a canal...

Today I walked into Kendal to take an oath on a Bible, sign a piece of paper, and pay someone to sign the same piece of paper to say that they'd watched me do these things. This is the job of a commissioner of oaths, which is a role usually fulfilled by a solicitor.

The reason the piece of paper needed signing was so that my ex-wife could take Dan and Abi into South Africa. But as I wandered back along the erstwhile canal to the office - passing over bridges whose purpose abruptly ended in the 1940s, when the waterway was filled in - I wondered about the value of that piece of paper. I mean it would be easy enough to fake and I doubt anyone at Customs will ring Thomson Hayton Winkley in Kendal to check its veracity.

The process seems to me to give the illusion of rigour whilst achieving nothing, in the same way that forcing people to use complex passwords or select letters from long memorable words looks like good security but actually just makes them more likely to write them down. 

Anyway, mustn't grumble; it was a delightful day for a walk. (Always thinking 'steps', these days.)

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-5.2kgs