Resistance to change is the reason the world is currently en route to hell via Haditha. The pace of globalisation frightens the bejesus out of old people, bearded men in black and those little brown tribes that emerge blinking into the oncoming path of a JCB in South American jungles from time to time, always wearing loincloths in a blow to naturists’ rights. Things are fine as they are, even when they’re not.
Still, change has always struck me as good. To those who would bemoan the state of things, beginning sentences with ‘In my day’, I would point out that to an alien invader life would appear a great deal better for humanity in the 21st century than it was in, say, the 11th, when leprosy was treated as a much-loved household pet. Yes, we all used to leave our doors unlocked before the 1980s invented both burglars and murderers, but previous generations would be forgiven for suggesting that overall improvements to healthcare and childhood survival rates, previously unthinkable access to knowledge and never having to say “Yes masser” to a man in a top hat wielding a flail could be regarded as positive developments.