I remembered this weekend an exhibition I'd stumbled across (Polish friend of my Grandfather's en tow) on a visit to the Science Museum in London a few years back. It encouraged kids to think how their lives would change if energy became a more prized commodity, tykes having to produce their own hydrogen in exchange for pocket money and poo needing to be brought home from school for the compost heap.
I took about a thousand photos in absolute awe.
Yes, I want a card saying 'Happy Birthday. May you have many productive and happy years as a hydrogen producer' with a parental agreement on the other side and a badge on the front. And as for the lunchbox? IT BLEW MY MIND but do you mind if I have one side for the stuff I want to eat (lunch, otherwise known as cupcakes) and the other for, like, my badly made sandwiches?
I also got a valuable insight yesterday into teenage imaginings of World War One. A creative literature piece my friend was marking ended with:
My legs and remaining arm were blown free from my body. After the war was the most depressing time. I missed my limbs. The nurse just sat outside, smoking.
[note: Stef informed me the first limb was lost earlier in the one-sheet-of-A4 tale]
Can't wait for the future.