I wonder if the meteorologists of times now gone thanked the home computer makers for giving them their lives back?
Imagine chaining yourself to a routine of getting up to a weather station every day at 9 am to take a series of reading without fail, rain or shine, day in day out. And then to go home and assemble all those stupid records.
And then some bastard tells you you don't have to do it any more and you refuse to believe him. Or worse. You believe him; get yourself a Davis or some such and then it blows a fuse on you?
Or worse; some monkey like me who never kept an honest record in his life tells you that you did it all wrong. That all of you did it all wrong.
What a catastrophe that would be.
What level of pain would you subtend?
No kidding troubles multiply for those who chase after other gods, for me the measuring rods have fallen in other people's places; surely I have tough shit!
Thank god it is in someone else's back yard.
