posted by
azdak at 10:05am on 24/07/2009
Last night we had the most AMAZING storm (amazing enough that even capitals don't do it justice, nor would bolding or italics. It needs curly font and a thousand exclamation marks). The lightning was going off multiple times a second, for over an hour, so there was constant flickering through the windows, as if an old black and white film was being projected against the sky. It was mostly sheet lightning, but ever so often a bolt would escape from the cloud and rip the sky apart, and it was such a mind-blowing display of gratuitous power that I was distinctly awestruck (actually, what it really looked like was as if a party of gods was having a disco inside the cloud and over-doing the strobe lighting, only it made you feel awe that the gods had SO MUCH elecricity at their disposal.) Then the rain started up, and the wind blew so hard that it sounded like hail against the windows, so I went downstairs to check on the animals. We can't have shut the french windows properly, because they suddenly burst open and in the few seconds it took me to close them again, a bucketful of water had been dumped on the floor. It was phenomenal.
I heard on the radio this morning that the storm had made its way across Austria, laying waste to vast tracts of fields, shattering windows, breaking in roofs, an injuring at least 45 people. I can't say I'm surprised. It was one of those "raw power of nature" things.
On a completely different note, I have finally got my hand on "Men of Mathematics", by Eric Bell, which I have been wanting to read for the chapter on Galois. It was written in the 1930s, so its scholarly rigour is not our scholarly rigour (the title alone is a dead giveaway - not a single of one of Bell's men of mathematics is a woman). The introduction, explaining to the common man what kind of creature mathematicians are, is hysterical. This is my favourite bit:
"Another characteristic calls for mention here, as several writers and artists (some from Hollywood) have asked that it be treated - the sex life of great mathematicians. In particular these inquirers wish to know how many of the great mathematicians have been perverts* - a somewhat indelicate question, possibly, but legitimate enough to merit a serious answer in these times of preoccupation with such topics. None."
*[italics mine]
I heard on the radio this morning that the storm had made its way across Austria, laying waste to vast tracts of fields, shattering windows, breaking in roofs, an injuring at least 45 people. I can't say I'm surprised. It was one of those "raw power of nature" things.
On a completely different note, I have finally got my hand on "Men of Mathematics", by Eric Bell, which I have been wanting to read for the chapter on Galois. It was written in the 1930s, so its scholarly rigour is not our scholarly rigour (the title alone is a dead giveaway - not a single of one of Bell's men of mathematics is a woman). The introduction, explaining to the common man what kind of creature mathematicians are, is hysterical. This is my favourite bit:
"Another characteristic calls for mention here, as several writers and artists (some from Hollywood) have asked that it be treated - the sex life of great mathematicians. In particular these inquirers wish to know how many of the great mathematicians have been perverts* - a somewhat indelicate question, possibly, but legitimate enough to merit a serious answer in these times of preoccupation with such topics. None."
*[italics mine]