Which are you?
The population of the world (according
to Humphrey Lyttelton) is divided equally between those who are
nature's prefects and those who are forever snotty-nosed kids.
Perhaps when quoting that I should
say... “those of us who are forever snotty-nosed kids.”
Rocket science...not rocket science,
is it?
Apparently rockets travel according to
their mass and thrust, obeying Newtonian, Classical, physics. Sure,
it can take a couple of guys who are handy with a sliderule, but it's
all predictable. Mars will be in a certain place at a certain time,
with absolute certainty. All you have to do with the rocket is hit
it.
The quantum physics world is one where
you would launch your rocket with a 50% probability of it arriving at
Mars, and a 50% probability of it arriving at Venus, and no way of
knowing which it was going to be.
Schrodinger's biographer, John Gribbin,
writes about rocket science the way rocket scientists might write
about bridge builders, and how bridge builders might write about us
lot in normal city, scratching our heads as soon as the Ikea flat
pack is opened and the instruction leaflet unfolded.
Hologram for a King
There's plenty to recommend Dave
Egger's book. Including a lesson in stripping prose down and leaving
only driving forward momentum. A book about a changing world, post
credit-crunch, and how us fifty-somethings can struggle with it.
Kitchen inspiration
I often wake up with odd thoughts.
Today's was a menu based on the six nations rugby fixtures. Scotland
v Italy, and France v Wales today. The Franco-Welsh seemed the
easiest. Cock au vin avec leeks. Or, I thought, how about faggots
with a rich gravy soaking into the potato gratin they're served up
on.
How about a rich smoked haddock pasta
sauce? Tomorrow there's English sausages with one of those fantastic
Irish mashed potato variations.
Food labels
BLISS, her body already a temple, is
now gluten free and so I'm starting to read the labels on food
packaging. I didn't bother, because my body's more of a
de-consecrated cathedral. One some dodgy beggars have had a few black
masses in.
Sadly, I didn't even smile at the bag
of cashews with the warning: CONTAINS: NUTS. Short and to the point.
They were the healthfood shop type. That was all there was. No salt.
Just nuts, and some air.
We also bought a pot of vegetarian
Bovril stuff (which is actually quite good but a bit salty). There's
a huge long list of ingredients, and the warning is about soy, and
celery. There's all sorts in there, why pick on the celery? Do people
take against celery for some reason? OK for Chelsea fans, obviously.
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