OPINION FROM THE ROCKING CHAIR The future will always exist Our resident Old Git, Ian Frow, on moving forwards without forgetting the tales from the past W hen the news from World War II was at its worst, Churchill, Stalin, and Roosevelt met at Yalta in the Crimea on the Black Sea. They were there not only to plan the future course of the war, but also to look to the post-war future of the world (and to carve up Europe). At one point someone asked: How are we going to police civil aviation after the war? There and then they agreed to set their civil servants to laying down the structure of what was to become the International Civil Aviation Organisation (ICAO). When they met again at Muir Woods near San Francisco, this time to set up the United Nations, ICAO was already up and running and busy writing its Annexes the basic rules of civil aviation. Subsequently, ICAO became an arm of the UN. Even at that black time in Yalta, those old men knew that the future would always exist and need planning. Perhaps a lesson for aviation today? Saving memories The Log sometimes receives self-published books for review. Often well written, they usually tell the flying stories from decades of flying with which so many of us regale our friends and relations after a glass or two. The trouble is that these stories are generally entertaining, but only to those Fs and Rs. To the rest of the world, they are not, at present, that interesting. It is rather a shame because, after this massive break in civil aviations progress, some of those memories from the 40s, 50s and later will eventually become of interest to future generations. Only now do those who experienced those halcyon days realise that their flying world was very different to the eventual brave new world of civil aviation when it starts again. These memoirs will, at some time in the future, have the same historical significance as, for example, the diaries of the captains of the clipper ships of the 19th century. But who will finance this treasure trove of good stories illustrating a long-lost happy world? Maybe the authors should have them printed nicely (not too expensive these days) and leave them to their grandchildren who will not be interested, until they have children of their own. It is sad that The Log and all todays other data will only survive until the world runs out of electricity to power all those digital storage units New careers for bright chaps Firmly locked down for months, the Lady Git became a dab hand at food shopping online. Occasionally, she mis-orders and on one splendid occasion we received no fewer than 48 mini Magnums. These orders are delivered during a pre-booked one-hour slot and the timekeeping is remarkable. The delivery drivers are definitely not white van types, they are highly efficient, and helpful at all times. Some give hints to their background by the crispness of their diction and the odd aviation expression, together with the enthusiastic departure techniques. When it is all over and they are back following their careers, the delivery system will miss them as will the locked-down housekeepers they help so well. Will it last? Around the UK in various public buildings usually cathedrals it is possible to read copies of Magna Carta, written on vellum (calves skins). They date from the early 13th century and are perfectly legible after eight centuries. Today, almost all our writing is stored digitally either on a hard disc or on the cloud (only Acts of Parliament and the like are still stored on vellum). The Log is the record of BALPAs history and, for the foreseeable future, it, too, will exist only digitally. The Log hardly equates to Magna Carta, but it is sad that it and all todays other data will only survive until the world runs out of electricity to power all those digital storage units.