You’d think in this day and age, when we can transmit pictures of our breakfast to the entire world in nanoseconds and send a drone to look in your neighbours back garden, that it would be possible to determine whether this was a photograph of my great Uncle Albert. If artificial intelligence had more than a smidgen of good old fashioned common sense, surely it would be able to say if that is great Aunt Rose Ellen and little Ivy Miriam sitting with him. Don’t get me wrong, there are programmes that you can acquire, programmes that will measure the key distances between nose mouth and eyes and investigate the average diameter of each left nostril. And what did such programmes tell me? They suggested that the soldier was my Uncle Harry who only ever played a piano keyboard in anger, that the young girl is my granddaughter, Alethea, and - most bizarre of all - that the lady is my grandfather, Albert Beanland. I give up!
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