No. 9: Numbers
I met a neighbour – he’s about the same age as me - on my early morning tramp around our estate and we agreed about two things. We’re both scunnered with the comings and goings at Westminster and we’re both missing our grand weans.
One of our wee men had a birthday last week. His Ma and Da invited us to a zoom party. We dressed up and had a cake with four candles in our own house. It was a hoot, tinged with sadness. The birthday boy didn’t spend much time on-screen. He was in full Fireman Sam mode and the party was really in Pontypandy. He could be heard, off, rescuing an angler from the rocks when the tide came in, saving a cat off a roof and putting out a blaze at a barn. (Sfx – nee-naw; fire-engine).
When I asked what age he was he said he was a square number. Four. That fired me up. The next day, I got the bag of spuds and put out a line of two, then another line of two underneath and right enough, that made a square. When I put out another line of two it was a rectangle. 6 is not a square number. It’s rectangle number. I said to myself: that wee lad’s on to something here. Einstein and Hawkins better watch out. My neighbour thinks the same. Every grandpa things their grandweans are brilliant.
There weren’t enough spuds, so I drew dots on paper, pretending they were peas. I got 4 lines of 4 making 16, 5 lines of 5 making 25, both square numbers. By the time I got to 81, which was nine lines of nine, I thought to myself – Dave, you’ve definitely gone lockdown loopy. You need to get out more.
So I did 100, ten lines of ten. Yep. 100 is a square number. I looked at all my dots and my squares and admired them. Everyday's a school day, eh. The spuds went the only way they could. As an accompaniment to the bacon and cabbage.
I’m a square number myself. (sfx- tune Beatles when I’m 64 - clarinet only)
Ach, I was never great with numbers. I was better with algebra. The letters, you see. But I wasn’t great there either. I’m struggling with the R number now, a public health algebraic conundrum. It’s about the level of infection. I’m not sure what the R stands for. Restricted? No, that’s drivers. I think it might be reproduction, for the number of times the virus reproduces. The lower the better. Get it under 1. It’s around point 8 at the minute. I wasn’t much good at decimals either. You put that dot in the wrong place and you’re out millions.
Say the R number was point 5. Does that mean a person with the virus could only infect half of you? If that’s true, I’d like it to be the lower half, from my feet up. Save the lungs. And stop just before the watershed, below the waterworks, which are fragile enough at the best of times. And these are not the best of times.
I need to fess up. That was only a point 5 truth earlier. I’m not a square number. I’m a square number plus 1. I told you I wasn’t great with numbers. Is 1 a square number? I’ll leave that one with you. (sfx – more of the full tune)
Broadcast on BBC Foyle, The Breakfast Show, 1.6.2020
Available on BBC Sounds. From 1 55 00https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m000jxlj
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