l A FEW weeks ago, I reflected on how computers had completely changed our lives. I recalled how teachers had once informed their charges that these magical machines would liberate Mankind from the drudgery of work, heralding an Aquarian age of leisure and pleasure.

Talking to some friends the other day, the subject cropped up again. One of them recalled not only those fanciful 1960s days when anything seemed possible, but also remarked on a journalistic institution that was killed stone dead once visual display units replaced pencil, notebooks and typewriter.

The liquid lunch. Yes, I remember them well. Nowadays, no one can risk feeling drowsy at one's desk - and, in any event most companies would never tolerate over-indulgence at lunchtimes. But once upon a time...

l JUDGING by the number of mink I see on my travels along the Severn and Teme, it would appear that these voracious members of the weasel family are now firmly established in our river systems.

I've also noticed a sharp drop in moorhen and mallard fledglings. Those little black and gold feathery balls used to be a familiar sight either crossing from one bank to another, or hugging the reedbeds under the watchful eyes of the parent birds. Of course, such matters cause problems for protectionists such as myself.

I've spent many an hour watching mink and must confess that they are an odd mixture of menace and beauty. But I fear these devastatingly efficient predators are treating our waterways as one endless food store - a bit like the seagulls on our streets. So something may have to be done.

I don't like the idea of them being killed, so I was wondering whether they could be humanly trapped and relocated somehow.

Perhaps readers might like to write to the letters page of this newspaper with suggestions that don't involve a bloodbath of some sort.