Showing posts with label flowers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label flowers. Show all posts
Friday, June 10, 2011
An odd enticing flower
On the radio she explained that when the bee was attached by its head to a toothpick with dental glue, it was able to fly through a virtual reality, and from this they were able to learn how the bee could navigate the dimensions of this virtual reality which, for all we knew, could have been a featureless concrete plain with the odd enticing, or even very crudely imagined flower.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
The handstand
My father has been unable to find any trace in the records of St Paul’s College of one Eddie Flowers who, at the end of 1946, or so he recalls, caused a commotion by climbing onto the steepest roof of the college and then, after scaling the tallest and most rickety of its nineteenth century chimneys, performed a handstand between the chimney pots.
The fact that Eddie, as my father remembers, had been sent from England to Australia during the last year of the war was in itself suggestive of privilege, he says – a fact which could only point to the likelihood that this Eddie Flowers was the son of Tommy Flowers, the man who designed the Colossus computer and who therefore, according to my father, single-handedly saved the Allies from an inevitable and inglorious defeat.
Only the son of such a war hero, sent out to Australia for his safety but always conscious of the greatness of his father’s deeds – deeds which he could never be allowed to forget – would have had any need to show off on a chimney in this way, my father says. My father – himself once an expert on computers – is still hoping to find another witness to the handstand and, from this, some confirmation that his conjecture is right.
The fact that Eddie, as my father remembers, had been sent from England to Australia during the last year of the war was in itself suggestive of privilege, he says – a fact which could only point to the likelihood that this Eddie Flowers was the son of Tommy Flowers, the man who designed the Colossus computer and who therefore, according to my father, single-handedly saved the Allies from an inevitable and inglorious defeat.
Only the son of such a war hero, sent out to Australia for his safety but always conscious of the greatness of his father’s deeds – deeds which he could never be allowed to forget – would have had any need to show off on a chimney in this way, my father says. My father – himself once an expert on computers – is still hoping to find another witness to the handstand and, from this, some confirmation that his conjecture is right.
Monday, September 8, 2008
The boat is filling with water
As I approached his room in the nursing home on Father’s Day, the masculine words of a television documentary pressed from the room, louder than anything else in the corridor: Barnes and Clark have slumped lifeless in the cockpit and the boat is filling with water…
The fact that he, too, lay as if lifeless, his feet stretched out before him on the bed, his eyes half closed either in concentration or in sleep, made me hesitate just a moment before entering with the flowers.
The fact that he, too, lay as if lifeless, his feet stretched out before him on the bed, his eyes half closed either in concentration or in sleep, made me hesitate just a moment before entering with the flowers.
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