A sense of community, on Remembrance Sunday

Posted on By Mark Wilson

Every year, on the second Sunday in November, in common with many others up and down the country, the town where I live comes together. In Olney, around a thousand people gather in the Market Place – some in uniform, some in suits, some just in coats and scarves against the November chill.

We come to remember. Some are there for those who fell in conflicts past. Others come to support their children in youth organisations. Some stand beside friends or colleagues. Whatever the reason, we make the time to come together.

As we approach the hour, the traffic stops and the Last Post sounds. Then, as the clock strikes eleven, silence falls. For two minutes, the town pauses.

In that moment, it’s not about politics or religion or background. It’s about shared respect. About community. About remembering what was lost and valuing what we still have – the freedom, the friendship, the ability to stand side by side in peace.

And that sense of community matters more than ever. We live in a time when society feels increasingly divided – when algorithms on so-called social media feed us outrage and misinformation; when newspapers twist headlines to fit an agenda; when too much of life pushes us into an us-versus-them mentality. Yet, this morning, I saw the opposite. I saw a huge cross-section of our community come together – young and old, rich and poor – all standing side by side.

There was representation from the armed forces, police, fire service, youth groups, churches, schools, sports clubs, charities and the Women’s Institute. Each laying wreaths, but all sharing a common purpose.

Even in a town of fewer than 10,000 people, there were faces I rarely see – and some I don’t always see eye-to-eye with. But today, none of that mattered. We were all there for the same reason, and there’s mutual respect in that.

We may be fortunate here – a small market town in what was once Buckinghamshire, close to areas of high employment and relative comfort – but not everyone here has privilege. Some are struggling. Yet today, that didn’t matter either. For a short while, everyone stood together.

This year’s remembrance feels especially poignant. Eighty years since the Second World War, conflict still rages in too many parts of the world. Nationalism is on the rise again – flags waved with more anger than pride – and it’s easy to forget what those who served fought so hard for.

It would have been easy to stay at home this morning. But I’m glad I walked down to the Market Place. Because what I saw was the very best of our community – people united by remembrance, respect and gratitude.

When the Reveille sounded and life resumed, there was a quiet pride. A reminder that community isn’t just something that happens online or when it’s convenient. It’s something we live, together, year after year. And today, it was lived in remembrance of those who served – and those who never came home.

Featured images: author’s own.

The day I forgot my wallet – and it didn’t matter

Posted on By Mark Wilson

Yesterday I left the house without my wallet.

Once upon a time that would have been a disaster – but it didn’t matter in the slightest. I had my iPhone. My Apple Wallet held my train tickets and my virtual payment cards, and everything just worked.

At some point, I realised I’ve quietly crossed the line into a world where my phone is my wallet. It doesn’t just hold my payment cards – it replaces the cards I’d need to withdraw cash too. Which raises a question: if physical cards disappear, will we need NFC-enabled ATMs to keep access to cash alive?

The cashless tipping point

According to UK Finance’s UK Payment Markets 2025 report, cards now account for around two-thirds of all payments in the UK. Cash, once king, has slipped below 10% – fewer than one in ten transactions. Over half of UK adults now contactless payments, including both plastic cards and mobile wallets such as Apple Pay or Google Pay.

The Bank of England says cash won’t die out any time soon, but it’s hard to ignore the direction of travel. Every tap of a card or phone accelerates the shift.

Why cash still matters

And yet, we’re not a cashless society – at least, not officially.

The Financial Services and Markets Act 2023 gave the Financial Conduct Authority (FCA) powers to make sure people can still withdraw and deposit notes and coins. Its new Access to Cash Regime came into force last September.

So even as digital payments dominate, the UK is deliberately keeping cash alive – not for nostalgia, but for resilience and inclusion.

Because while most of us can pay with a tap, around 5% of adults still have no internet access, and many more are what Ofcom calls “digitally disadvantaged” – they’re online, but lack confidence or skills.

Cash also serves as a fallback when the technology fails. Power cut, network outage, or card terminal on the blink – the humble £10 note still works.

Emotional value

Then there’s the emotional side.

The Bank of England points out that many people prefer cash for budgeting – physically seeing money leave your hand is more tangible than a number on a screen.

There’s also the matter of privacy. Every card transaction leaves a digital trail; cash doesn’t. For some, that’s reason enough.

The cost question

One argument that keeps popping up is the cost of card payments. Some businesses still cite high processing fees, especially for low-value sales. Others quietly admit that banking and securing cash costs money too.

And it’s rare to find a truly “cash-only” business these days. In a 2020-21 survey by HMRC, only 1% of small businesses described themselves as cash-only.

The “cash only” question

That 1% does make me raise an eyebrow though.

Whenever I see a “cash only” sign, I can’t help wondering whether every pound is being reported to His Majesty’s Revenue and Customs. It’s probably unfair – there are genuine reasons for preferring cash – but the association is hard to shake.

HMRC’s own research shows some tradespeople see “cash jobs” as unlikely to be caught. Maybe that says more about culture than crime, but it lingers in the background.

Should we mourn the loss of cash?

Personally, I don’t think so.

I like the convenience of digital payments, the security of not carrying notes, and the way my wallet has quietly become redundant. The only time I use cash regularly now is at the local market, where some of the traders are cash-only and others just prefer it. Ironically, I still have some euros in my wallet, but rarely any pounds!

But I do think we need to protect choice. A fully digital economy can’t leave behind those who aren’t ready, able or willing to join it.

The regulators seem to agree. Access to cash is now a legal right, even if accepting it isn’t.

Reflection

Forgetting my wallet was a small thing, but it made me stop and think about how quickly we’ve moved from contactless cards to contactless lives. And as much as I enjoy the convenience of paying with a phone, maybe we should all keep a few notes for emergencies.

Who gets paid when the machines take over?

Posted on By Mark Wilson

Yesterday evening, I was at the Bletchley AI User Group in Milton Keynes. One of the talks was from Stephanie Stasey (/in/missai) (aka Miss AI), titled “Gen AI vs. white collar workers and trad wives – building a robot to make my bed”.

It was delivered as a monologue – which sounds negative, but really isn’t. In fact, it was engaging, sharp, and packed with food for thought. Stephanie brought a fresh perspective to a topic we’re all thinking about: how AI is reshaping both the world of work and the way we live at home.

The labour that goes unnoticed (but not undone)

One part of the talk touched on “trad wives” – not a term I was especially familiar with, but the theme resonated.

If you’d asked my wife and I in our 20s about how we’d divide up household tasks, we might have offered up a fair and balanced plan. But real life doesn’t always match the theory.

These days, we both work part-time – partly because unpaid labour (childcare, cooking, washing, cleaning, all the life admin) still needs doing. And there don’t seem to be enough hours when the laptop is closed.

The system isn’t broken – it’s working exactly as designed

The point I’ve been turning over for a while is this: it feels like we’re on the edge of something big.

We could be on the brink of a fundamental shift in how we think about work – if those in power wanted to make radical changes. I’ll avoid a full political detour, though I’m disheartened by the rise of the right and how often “ordinary people” are reminded of their place. (My youngest son calls me a champagne socialist – perhaps not entirely unfairly.)

Still, AI presents us with a rare opportunity to do things differently.

But instead of rethinking how work and value are distributed, we’re told to brace for disruption. The current narrative is that AI is coming for our jobs. Or a variation on that theme: “Don’t worry,” we’re told, “it won’t take your job – but someone using AI might”. That line’s often repeated. It’s catchy. But it’s also glib – and not always true.

I’m close enough to retirement that the disruption shouldn’t hit me too hard. But for my children’s generation? The impact could be massive.

What if we taxed the agents?

So here’s a thought: what if we taxed the AI agents?

If a business creates an agent to do the work a person would normally do – or could reasonably do – then that agent is taxed, like a human worker would be. It’s still efficient, still scalable, but the benefits are shared.

And, how would we live, if the jobs go away? That’s where Universal Basic Income (UBI) comes in (funded by taxes on agents, as well as on human effort).

Put simply, UBI provides everyone with enough to cover their basic needs – no strings attached. People can still work (and many will). For extra income. For purpose. For contribution. It just doesn’t have to be 9-to-5, five days a week. It could be four. Or two. The work would evolve, but people wouldn’t be left behind. It also means that the current, complex, and often unjust benefits system could be removed (perhaps with some exceptions, but certainly for the majority).

What could possibly go right?

So yes, the conversation around AI is full of what could go wrong. But what if we focused on what could go right?

We’ve got a window here – a rare one – to rethink work, contribution, and value. But we need imagination. And leadership. And a willingness to ask who benefits when the machines clock in.

Further reading on UBI

If you’re interested in UBI and how it might work in practice, here are some useful resources:

Featured image: author’s own.