Skip to main content

A one hundred and fifty day lockdown

You can't have read much of my writings if you do not know that numbers are close to my heart. And today has a big nice round number attached to it. We are all familiar with the Google search engine. Most of us will use it today. The name is a mis-spelling of the name for the number you get when you multiply 10 by 10 one hundred times. The name Googol is the term for that number. For a brief period of time, it was the biggest number with a name.

But after Kasner and Newman came up with that name, they rapidly came up with Googolplex which is the number you get when you multiply 10 by 10 Googol times. We can in our Parliament make the Googol, if not the Googolplex real. There are 129 MSPs. If we allow people to sit randomly in seats, how many possible outcomes are there?

The first person to sit down can choose from 129 available seats. The second person can choose from one less, 128 seats. But the first person left 128 possible arrangements of the remaining seats. So the number of possible choices when these two people sit is, 129 times 128. And so it goes on with the total options being 129 times 128 times 127 .. and so on until it's .. times 3 times 2. Thus we know that the number of options are bigger than a Googol. And we can know that without doing any sums. How?

We know a Googol is 10 times 10 done one hundred times. Think only about the first 100 MSPs to sit down. The choices up to this point are 129 times 128 .. etc .. 31 times 30. So every single one of the first one hundred steps in the calculation uses a number that is bigger than 10. So we know the final answer is bigger, much bigger, than a Googol. I leave you to work out that the final answer is much, much less than a Googolplex. And again no sums are needed.

All of which is about reminding ourselves that maths is simply about thinking.

Today's special number? One hundred and fifty. This diary piece is the 150th in the sequence. And will add to the around one hundred and seventy thousand words which have preceded it.

With Charles Dicken's Tale of Two Cities containing 135,000 words and George Orwell's Animal Farm under a mere 30,000, my diary is now reaching for the upper reaches of literary effort. But much more to the point, the Parliamentary demands on my time are rising sharply. So, the daily effort of between sixty and ninety minutes hitherto devoted to these scrivenings has to be redirected.

I started because of being asked to write a one-off article. It morphed into a daily personal therapy session that helped keep me relatively sane during lock-down. And seems to have been relatively well-received by the several hundred people on my distribution list.

So what next? I have found that writing something book-length is quite straightforward. One does it a bit at a time. And I have a couple of other projects I now intend to pursue away from the public gaze.

But the diary will live on as a twice-weekly account of all things related to my Parliamentary life, or otherwise dragged back into the front of my mind from deeply hidden memories, by it. The plan is to publish for Tuesday morning, before the Parliamentary week really starts, and Friday evening as a reprise to be read over the weekend.

Even that is a temporary form just as the whole enterprise has been since the first day on 19th March. For my move from Holyrood and representative democracy is already twinkling on the horizon and will require a further adjustment in late spring next year. Not just regarding the diary, but many aspects of my day to day life and objectives.

Thank you for reading. But keep reading. Less often. But more words.

That's the first 150 days locked down over.

Much better than 150 days locked up.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

At home but also working in Parliament

Yesterday was both a good day and a disappointing day. The sun was scorching hot, and although we had our morning tea outside, we had to sit under the parasol. Even our cats, who love basking in the sun, retired to shady spots. The herb garden - can something much less than a metre square be a garden? - makes progress and I chewed my first bit of fennel frond as a tasty mouth freshener. I look forward to shortly stepping out to cut chives for salads, scrambled eggs and the like. And a top day for exercise too. Just under 12 miles' walking. At that distance, a break about half-way makes sense. The country kirk at Ordiquhill provided a step to sit on for 10 minutes in the shade for a drink of water and eating a satsuma. The kirkyard is signposted as part of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission network and also has a War Memorial within it. One name on the Memorial is a family name for my spouse, her grannie was a Lobban, and it prompts me to add Alexander Lobban to a list...

Clarity of vision

I remember standing at a bus stop in Aberdeen when I was a student in the 1960s and realising that I could not quite read the destination on the front of the approaching bus very clearly. I did nothing about it. I was 20 years old and immortal. In 1970 the Commonwealth Games came to Edinburgh for the first time. We got tickets for various events. On one occasion we travelled from Linlithgow, where we had not long bought a house, by train. There was a station adjacent to Meadowbank stadium. But it was a slow journey. So when we later attended some of the badminton competition in an evening, we drove in our elderly car. It may have been that there simply were no trains at the required times. I just don't remember. The drive home predated the building of the motorway between Edinburgh and Linlithgow and was a twisty-turnie local road. It was slightly alarming. I found myself seeing two lines in the middle of the road. Not the normal double white line that prohibits drivers from ...

Numbers

The exercise regime continues. Yesterday's walking came to a total of 7.84 miles. That included a new route of 6.9 miles which I walked continuously, and briskly, for a bit over two hours—feeling both virtuous and properly muscled-tired. Can feel muscles tightening in the legs. Besides providing some new scenery, the walk also threw up a wee mystery. At five points over about half a mile, I spotted what one might almost imagine as a large washer nailed into the tarmacadam. Now it is often said that the Scots invented the modern world. And with some due cause. But it turns out that tarmacadam was a Welsh invention not as I had always assumed, a Scots one. Edgar Purnell Hooley patented tarmacadam in 1902 and with the founding of the Tar Macadam Syndicate Ltd in the following year, took control of the commercial exploitation of his idea. Something we are a bit less good at than we need to be. Selling our ideas? - yes; keeping control? - rarer. It does turn out that the Scots w...