Without looking for sources - so I could be totally wrong - I believe that it did darken proportionately and that light meters would register that. However, human eyes are not light meters and adjust to the dimmer light without you knowing.
I am - in the UK - and I think that it should be opt out rather than opt in.
The original type of coat that would have been worn when riding was the Great Coat - which did cover the whole body, down to the ankles (and included the front of the body much better than a cloak). Those would have been worn by military officers, particularly.
Those were fine for riding, but then if you were off your horse and end up in the newly developed trench warfare - starting from around the US civil war onwards - you ended up wading through mud which got caked to the coat. So then they started cutting the coats shorter and they became Trench Coats.
"customers weren’t willing to pay for the added cost of cleaner fossil fuels." says CEO of company that made $36 billion in profits last year.
You'd need to refuel at some point and I expect that refuelling whilst in motion would probably hit some legal issues.
And then, assuming that you overcame that, in the UK at least, you'd need at MOT test at some point, which would have to be at an approved test centre, so 3 years at the absolute max - although I expect tyres etc would need attention before that.
Hell, that's going back a way. I don't think that I have heard one of those since the 90s. They really haven't aged well - not that they were exactly the height of PC humour back then.
What's the difference between a shopping trolley and an Essex girl?
A shopping trolley has a mind of its own.
This is a noted issue with Ticks. When removing them, unless you do it properly, you may end up with the mouthparts left embedded in your skin.. However, even with those, the body will usually deal with it without too many problems.
Mosquito proboscii are much smaller and so I would not anticipate any issues for anyone with a functioning immune system to deal with without ever noticing.
I don't think that I ever did feel like a kid when I went back to my parents for Christmas. Instead, it felt cloying, cluttered and claustrophobic - and as far as I can tell, it is entirely coincidental that all three of those start with 'cl'. I felt out of place and constrained and it seemed irrelevant to anything else in my world. Mum and my siblings were all doing their usual things, but I felt in the same stiff, un-natural position that 'posh' visitors were always put in back when I was living there as a child. There was a sense that it was all a performance for my benefit - but one that never really convinced.
An isolated shingle spit nature reserve. We'd lost mains power in a storm some while back and were running on a generator. Fuel deliveries were hard to arrange. We'd finally got one. We were pretty much running on fumes and another storm was coming in. We really needed this delivery.
To collect the fuel, I had to take the Unimog along a dump track and across 5 miles of loose shingle - including one low causeway stretch through a lagoon that was prone to wash out during storms. We'd rebuilt it a LOT over the years. On the way up, there was plenty of water around there, but it was still solid.
I get up to the top ok and get the tank full - 2000L of red diesel - but the wind is pretty strong by the time I have. Half way back, I drop down off the seawall and reach the causeway section. The water is just about topping over. If I don't go immediately, I won't get through at all and we will be out of fuel for days - maybe weeks. So I put my foot down and get through that section only to find that 200 meters on, another section already has washed out. Oh shit.
I back up a little but sure enough the first section has also washed through now. I now have the vehicle and a full load of fuel marooned on a short section of causeway that is slowly washing out. Oh double shit. Probably more than double. Calling it in on the radio, everyone else agrees and starts preparing for a pollution incident.
In the end I find the firmest spot that I can in that short stretch and leave the Moggie there. Picking my route and my moment carefully I can get off that 'island' on foot - no hope with the truck - BUT due to the layout of the lagoons only to the seaward ridge, where the waves are now crashing over into the lagoon with alarming force. I then spend one of the longest half-hours I can remember freezing cold and drenched, scrambling yard by yard along the back side of that ridge and flattening myself and hoping each time a big wave hits.
The firm bit of causeway survived and there was no washed away Unimog or pollution in the end - and I didn't drown either - but much more by luck than judgement.
These days I am in a position where I am responsible for writing risk assessments and methods statements for procedures like this. It was another world back then.
- At work - recruiting another team member, so we are not all constantly plate spinning and I might actually have chance to spend time planning.
- At home - finally getting the pictures etc up on the walls.
- Nationally - voting the Tories out.
Whilst I am sympathetic to the overall aim of this, things like this:
She would have expected people to name figures such as Quintus Lollius Urbicus, who became governor of Roman Britain
...do stand out as being a a bit unrealisitic. I mean, how many governors of Roman Britain of any race or nationality can the typical Briton actually name? I'd be surprised if it was more than 1 and probably less than that.
And if the expectation is that anyone would know of this guy only because his chief contribution to history is "being black" then I am not sure what we are gaining here.
In my experience, there are three types: