Why the Robots Think I’m a Robot

Apparently I write like a machine. I’m 71. That’s not an excuse. It’s the explanation. In the 1960s I attended a grammar school in Wales, where spelling and grammar were, quite literally, beaten into you. You learned to write correctly because the alternative was a ruler across the knuckles. It’s not a teaching method I’d recommend, but I’ll grant it this much: it worked. Correct English stopped being a choice and became a reflex. From there I joined the army and trained as a Radio Telegraphist. Accuracy wasn’t a nicety in that job. It was the whole point. A garbled signal isn’t just untidy, it can get someone killed. You learn very quickly to say exactly what you mean, in the clearest possible form, with nothing left to guesswork. That habit doesn’t switch off when you leave the job. I transferred to the Military Police and eventually became an SIB investigator. Formal, structured, precise report writing was my daily work for years. Every statement had to hold up to scrutiny. Every…