This is how Spring starts.

First, the rain stops. Abruptly, and without warning, you wake up one day in September to the feeling that you could survive the day without a jacket and a scarf. Always a feeling, though, never a certainty: Christchurch will always leave you guessing until about four minutes after you’ve definitely and irrevocably left the house.

Two brothers, both princes, had an argument.

Two beautiful maidens had been presented to their father, the Sultan, by the ruler of a neighbouring land (a custom which is, naturally, abhorrent to us now, but was certainly acceptable to the princes, and, as it happened, the maidens in question). The argument, then, was over to which prince (or princes), the maidens should be wed.

I lose count of the number of times I enter passwords every day. Sure, there are a few brave souls trying to fix that, but it’s a way off yet. I still think, though, that for all its ubiquity, login is broken.

I’m not necessarily talking about interfaces here (although I’ve seen some truly egregious specimens): I mean the word “login”.