In Jonathan Swift's travel book, Gulliver's Travels, the account of his third voyage, to Lakota, I think, left us with the searing memory of the Struldbrugs, people who never died, immortal but not competent or healthy and deprived of most of their rights. That's another discussion. I'm thinking now of the noise-makers, attendants with flapping balloons who reminded people of what they were saying or doing - something like that. I'm in bed in the early morning (4 a.m.) and I'm not getting up to find my copy of the book. My memory will have to serve for now. I thought of this because I have been making lists and checking Stats Canada for some bits of information and thinking this is NOT a paperless society, except that, considering all we have to remember and file and hang onto, I guess it is. I mean, what if our personal flapping noise-maker had to carry it all for us? So I write noodges to myself everyday. I cling to paper, scribbling on the other side of used copy paper, torn into note-sized pieces, easing my consumption conscience. Others, younger than I and less conscientious (?) carry little electronic pads, the present-day equivalent of the flappers. (I'll look them up, soon.) But then what? You have to follow up on the directives, paperless or not, adding more noodges as you go through the day. I'll make a note of Gulliver's Travels and go back to sleep. I hope.