Back at Home

I have been at home for about 10 days now. I went to buy some euros today as I decided I should probably at least make some effort to plan this trip to Frankfurt. I don't think I want to go anymore, I am going to be loads younger than anyone else and massively underqualified. At least if anyone asks me questions in the "discussion" parts I can look blankly at them and hide behind the fact I don't even have a maths degree. That or I will just burst into tears and run out of the room. That is of course provided I actually make it to where ever I am meant to be going- that will be barrier number 1. I think I will not think about it for a few more days and then panic about it the night before.

I am annoyed that all the episodes of Poirot have been removed from youtube, I don't really know what I'm expected to do now with my time. Luckily I have a contingency plan: ANGEL. So, having spent quite a few days watching back to back episodes of Angel (note: superior in every way to Buffy), interspersed with Die Hard 1, and turning into a nocturnal creature I decided that I would go for a run today. Obviously under the cover of darkness. I think I would rather risk being attacked than have people see me huffing and puffing after a slow jog lasting about 3 seconds. I managed to run for the grand total of how ever long it takes for my ipod to play "Be Prepared" from the Lion King twice. I really like that song, whenever I hear the part that says "and where do we feature?", "just listen to teacher" I always think of Severus Snape and it makes me laugh. Anyway, I don't think I'll be going for a run for a while again.

PART 3: Breakfast and a shooting party

Poirot looked into the mirror above the sink in this ensuite bathroom. He smoothed his moustache with the tips of his fingers, curling the ends carefully. As he regarded his reflection intently he thought back to the dinner of the previous night. “There iz something most strange about these people” be muttered to himself, closely observing the curl of his moustache. And with a final slight twitch of his nose he left his room and descended the elegant stairs to breakfast.

As he entered the breakfast room Miss Ruth greeted him, “Good morning Monsieur Poirot”
“Mademoiselle.” Poirot made a little bow in the direction of Miss Ruth.
“I trust you slept well?” enquired Lady Cheerton conversationally, pouring Poirot a cup of tea.
“Very well, I thank you,” replied Poirot, accepting the cup and tottering delicately over to an unoccupied seat where he ostentatiously shook out his napkin, sat down and tucked the napkin neatly over his chest in one fluid motion.

Next to him sat Dr Gangle, also with his napkin firmly attached to his chest. In front of him an empty plate.
“You are not eating monsieur?” enquired Poirot
“Oh yes, I’m just waiting ..” began Dr Gangle
“ For what my old bean?” asked Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton
“Well, the maid” responded Dr Gangle, apparently confused
At this words the Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton and Lady Cheerton burst into ringing laughter. Finally, dabbing a tear from her eye with a corner of her napkin Lady Cheerton spoke, “Breakfast is always self-service.”
“At least in Britain” said Professor Yorde, from the other side of the table
“If it’s good enough for the Queen, it’s good enough here at the Old Rectory” huffed the Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton.
“Of.. Of course” stuttered Dr Gangle, wringing his hands slightly and looking feverously down at his empty plate.
Poirot, suddenly thinking back to something which happened the night before, looked at Professor Yorde. He was staring, slightly open-mouthed at Dr Gangle, as if he had suddenly realised something.

At this moment Captain Severs entered the room, “Oh jolly good, breakfast,” he cried, smacking his lips together and rubbing his stomach in anticipation.

After a few more minutes of arrivals a quick scan of the room told Poirot that all the guests from dinner the night before were present except for the one notable absence: Patricia Fansmield.

The final arrival to breakfast was Dr Lilac. As soon as he entered Poirot noticed dark circles around his eyes. He hovered momentarily by the door looking nervous before taking a seat opposite Poirot. He seemed to twitch awkwardly and more than once Poirot saw his flinch slightly after making eye contact with Trevelyan, who sat at the other end of the table, cooling drinking from a cup of black coffee, no hint of discomfort on his impassive face.

“Are you quite well, Dr Lilac?” asked Dr Anne as she poured herself a cup of coffee and took the seat next to him.
“Oh yes, I am quite well. I thank you.” spluttered Dr Lilac. He had seemingly not noticed the arrival of Dr Anne, and jumped slightly.
Dr Anne looked at Dr Lilac, her eyes wide with concern. “John..,” she said in a low voice as she reached out her hand to place it on his forearm, but before she could he pulled his arm away violently simultaneously tugging his shirt sleeve roughly down over his wrist.
“John..?” Dr Anne repeated his name again, in the same low voice and this time Poirot detected a tiniest hint of desperation in her voice.
“Please, Dr Anne, I’m fine… really,” on his final word his voice relaxed, although he continued to clutch at the cuff of the left arm of his shirt.

Poirot looked across at Captain Severs, he had apparently noticed nothing of this rather odd behaviour and was tucking into a hearty portion of bacon, beans and scrambled eggs, “By Jove, I can’t even count the number of beans on my plate” he cried.
“That would be because you served them yourself” remarked Professor Yorde dryly, turning sharply to look at Dr Gangle, who immediately looked down at his now full plate and busied himself positioning food on his fork.

“I’ve arranged for a shooting party to go out after breakfast. Would you care to join us Mr Poirot?” asked Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton.
“Mais non monsieur, zee shooting, eet iz not for Poirot. I think I will stay and catch up on my reading.”
“I need to review my papers for the coming seminars, so I’m afraid I’ll have to give it a miss” said Professor Glasgow, draining his coffee cup and placing it unceremoniously back onto the table.
“Your loss,” said the Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton cheerfully.
“I also, regret I will not be a member of the party” said Professor Fansmield, “my wife… she feels… a little unwell this morning, and I must attend to her.” He spoke stiffly and there was no trace of concern or affection in his formal vernacular.
“Hangover” whispered Barrat loudly, to nobody in particular. Professor Fansmield shot him a filthy look but made no response.
“Of course” said Lady Cheerton hastily, smiling indulgently over at Professor Fansmield, who returned none of her friendliness and merely turned away.

“So, who exactly will be shooting with me today?” asked Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton, a little irritably, “Dr Lilac?”
At these words Barrat burst into uncontrollable laughter.
“Barrat, what is wrong with you this morning?” demanded Professor Glasgow.
“Oh nothing, nothing” said Barrat hastily, before lapsing once again into a fit of giggles, “I was just thinking that it would all depend on if you’re shooting-up by the woods.”
“Of course we’re shooting near the wood” cried Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton “What the devil’s the matter with you boy?”
Professor Glasgow glowered at Barrat, “I think you need to do some typing Barrat”
“Of course uncle, of course.” Barrat declined his head respectfully and with a wide grin minced from the room, apparently pleased with the minor disruption he had caused.

“Is he not shooting?” asked Lady Cheerton, tilting her head towards the doorway through which Barrat had just passed.
“Oh no, Barrat is far too delicate a boy for such things. I blame his mother, far too soft with the lad if you ask me,” said Professor Glasgow gruffly.

“And what would you know about parenting?” asked Miss Ruth pleasantly, her eyebrows raising slightly.
“Miss Ruth,” gasped Lady Cheerton, astonished.
“Oh, well… nothing, I suppose” said Professor Glasgow staring open-mouthed at her.
“My apologies Professor Glasgow, it was not my intention to be rude” continued Miss Ruth, still smiling amiably. Lady Cheerton nodded at her, satisfied.

“You have no children?” asked Professor Yorde, not raising his eyes from the newspaper he was staring intently at.
“I am not a parent, no” replied Professor Glasgow slowly, each word spoke with a decided deliberation.

There was a moments silence before the Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton blustered on. “So, who is coming? I can’t go alone. I need the...” Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton stopped suddenly. His wife regarded him through narrowed eyes, “company.. I need the company.”

“I’ll come” said Professor Yorde, setting down his coffee cup carefully next to his now empty plate.
“Captain Severs?” continued the Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton, looking questioningly towards the Captain.
“Oh yes, a spot of shooting would be top drawer Reverend,” replied Captain Severs, “I’ll go change directly.”
“I’ll be joining you too” said Dr Gangle.
“And I” said Professor Vector.
Poirot looked across at Professor Vector, who stood by the breakfast buffet and thought it very odd that he had not noticed him this whole breakfast time.
“I’ll give it a miss” drawled Trevelyan as the Reverend turned to look expectantly at him.

“Good, then it’s all settled” smiled Lady Cheerton, “I hope you gentlemen catch your prey.”

PART 2: A woman scorned

“Lady Cheerton tells me you are a nephew of zee great Professor Glasgow?” Poirot said to the young gentlemen on his left, whom Lady Cheerton had previously told him was Trevelyan.
“Oh yes, and you are quite right, he really is a wonderful mathematician. I can only hope one day to have half the success in research that he has had,” enthused Trevelyan as he leaned back in his chair removing the napkin from his chest.
“But of course, he iz most famous,” smiled Poirot.

“Mathematically… and otherwise,” interjected a wispy voice. Poirot looked to where the voice had come from.
“Barrat, another nephew of the great Professor Glasgow,” came the voice again. Barrat offered his hand to Poirot across Trevelyan, and as he did Poirot noticed that Trevelyan directed the smallest expression of distaste towards Barrat. Poirot took the offered hand, “A pleasure to meet you. But let me ask, “otherwise”? You intrigue me monsieur.”
Barrat opened his mouth to reply when Trevelyan cut in, “I think Barrat is merely referring to the pleasure our uncle takes in the travelling which being such an imminent mathematician affords. Is that not correct Barrat?”
Barrat bowed his head slightly taking up his wine glass and before taking a sip “Of course Trevelyan, as always you know exactly what I mean.”
Barrat and Trevelyan exchanged an indecipherable look, but before Poirot could comment further a small crash to his left caused him to turn.

To Poirot’s left sat Patricia Fansmield. Throughout the meal she had had her wine glass refilled more times than Poirot could remember and now, as the dessert dishes were being cleared away, the effects were certainly showing. She had, it seems, just knocked over her water glass as she had reached, blurry-eyed for one of the empty wine bottles in front of her. Poirot glanced across the table and caught Captain Severs’ eye. Captain Severs rolled his own and they exchanged a knowing look before resuming his conversation with Dr Lilac and Lady Cheerton.

“Paul. Pauuul!” Patricia slurred shrilly to her husband across the table, her head lolling to one sat and her drained wine glass precariously held in her hand. Poirot looked across to Professor Fansmield, who was engaged in conversation with Professor Glasgow and Dr Anne. Upon hearing his wife he looked up and wrinkled his brow. “Yes, dear” he replied through gritted teeth.
“Paul, will you please stop flirting so overtly with that woman!” Patricia jabbed the air roughly with the index finger of her free hand to indicate Dr Anne, who sat at her husband’s right hand side.
“Please Patricia, if anyone has cause to complain it is certainly not you,” hissed Professor Fansmield never shifting his gaze from his wife.
“I’ve had enough Paul” shrieked Patricia
“For once, I quite agree with you, my dear” responded Professor Fansmield, the tone of his voice remaining dangerously even.

The others at the table all shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Dr Anne appeared to be very much engrossed with her napkin, as she folded and unfolded it nervously in her lap. Professor Yorde had adopted a position not dissimilar to a statue- frozen and apparently under the impression that if he remained perfectly still he would get sucked into no argument.

Barrat, however, was staring at the scene with wide, hungry eyes. He appeared to be almost quivering with excitement at such an outburst. Miss Ruth looked equally as interested, while Professor Glasgow looked extremely uncomfortable. He had turned a deep puce colour and fidgeted constantly, periodically glancing nervously at Patricia- seemingly willing her to be quiet. If that was indeed what he was hoping, it did not happen.

“I don’t see why you have to sit next to her anyway,” continued Patricia.
“If you knew anything about the etiquette of dinner parties you would realise that it is not done for a husband to be seated on the same side of the table as his wife, let alone next to her.” There was a pause before Professor Fansmield added, “as much as he might dearly like to.”
“Well, please excuse me if I’m not as enormously well bred as you, my darling” retorted Patricia, her voice stiff with malice; the term of endearment which punctuated her sentence flew like a dagger through the air.


Professor Fansmield regarded his wife with a look of utter contempt and stood, throwing his napkin to the table, “if you’ll all excuse me, I need a cigarette” and he made a small bow in the direction of Lady Cheerton.

“I’ll join you if you don’t mind,” came the voice of Professor Glasgow.

“Sir, I most certainly do,” responded Professor Fansmield and with that he walked to the French windows and exited into the dark of the night.

Professor Glasgow turned an even darker shade of puce and signalled to the maid to replenish his glass.

A full second of silence engulfed the table before Lady Cheerton, clearing her throat spoke, “I think we ladies should leave the gentlemen to set the world to rights. We’ll take coffee in the parlour.” Everyone at the table rose, and the ladies left, Miss Ruth helping Patricia from the room as discreetly as she could manage.

“Well, quite, yes,” began the Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton once the ladies had left the room, “I think a good stiff drink is what everybody needs.” And he rose to pour large glasses of brandy for everyone, “leave the ladies to their coffee eh?” he chuckled.

The doors connecting the dining room to the drawing room were opened and the Reverend Doctor Kerry Cheerton, followed by Professor Glasgow and Professor Vector moved to seat themselves in old and comfortable looking green leather chairs.

Trevelyan excused himself to go for a cigarette and exited the room in a similar manner to Professor Fansmield, and was closely followed by Dr Lilac, “I think I’ll step out for a breath of fresh air, it is such a beautiful night after all.”

Poirot, Captain Severs, Barrat, Professor Yorde and Dr Gangle remained seating at the dining table.

“Nasty business all that,” commented Captain Severs
“Quite” added Dr Gangle
“Well, it’s only to be expected really” said Barrat
“Really?” said Captain Severs
“Oh yes,” asserted Barrat “it’s plain to anyone they’re not happily married and well, if rumours are to be believed…”
“Rumours?” inquired Dr Gangle, leaning in slightly.

Barrat’s face relaxed into a wide smile as he took a breath, “Word is, Patricia had an affair years and years ago, and well, they’ve never quite recovered.”
“I say, that would explain the Professor’s comment” opined Captain Severs
“But, then why iz eet she who is making zee accusations most wild?” asked Poirot, “eet does not make sense”
“And why was Professor Glasgow looking so damn shifty?” mused Captain Severs
“No, well, Professor Fansmield has since had his own assignations, all in the name of revenge and its left Patricia a bit…”
“Paranoid and consumed with resentment?” offered Captain Severs
“Exactly” smiled Barrat
“But if they do not love each other, why stay together?” asked Dr Gangle, “Surely it’s as simple as reciting A to zee… zed, I mean, zed.”
Barrat, Professor Yorde and Captain Severs looked at Dr Gangle. “But, my dear chap” began Professor Yorde, somewhat incredulously “it’s just not done to get a divorce, not in Britain!”
“Of course, of course, I.. momentarily forgot myself” said Dr Gangle hastily.

Poirot looked at Dr Gangle, he suddenly seemed very flustered.
“What part of the country did you say you were from?” asked Professor Yorde
“Oh, a little place called Englandshire,” Dr Gangl tapped his finger against his union jack shirt unconsciously.
“I see” murmured Professor Yorde.

“It would be better for her to just kill him” chuckled Barrat
“Ahh, but would she have it in her?” replied Dr Gangle, making an effort to recover himself.
Barrat giggled churlishly and took a deep drink from his glass. And before he could say another word a different voice spoke, a voice full of meaning,

“Oh yes, there is nothing more dangerous than a woman scorned.”

No one had noticed Professor Vector approach them from the drawing room, and the seriousness of his tone was a sharp contrast to the capricious tone Barrat had used and the gentlemen fell silent.

PART 1: The guests arrive

The "Old Rectory, England" was thoroughly British in every way. From the Lord of the Manor, the Reverand Doctor Kerry Cheerton, right down to the 'made in England' that was stamped onto the back of Lady Cheerton's silver WI badge. Situated in the isolated, yet idyllic village of 'Deptmath' (voted 4th best village in the country) it was the perfect hollow for the world's greatest mathematical minds to share their research.

To mark the beginning of another celebrated series of seminars the Reverand, as was customary for a man in his position, welcomed all the prominent members of the village to join him for a weekend of merriment before the week of intellectual nourishment. The meals were organised, the wine cellar was replenished and duly the guests arrived.

Poirot observed his surroundings as he entered the drawing room, accompanied by his associate. Smiling pleasantly, a small plump woman approached them, "Ahhh Monsieur Poirot, such an honour for you to join us here up at the Old Rectory, England. I was so pleased when I heard you were in the area."

"Madame, zee honour, eet iz all mine" responded Poirot, taking the lady's hand in his. "Let me introduce to you my associate Captain Severs," he continued gesturing towards the dashing English gentleman to his left.

"Lady Cheerton, I am delighted"

"Captain Severs, I'm so happy you could join us. Now, I don't suppose you're much acquainted with any of our illustrious guests messieurs" said Lady Cheerton as she motioned to the serving maid to bring across drinks.

"Mais non, madame." Poirot accepted a small Bailey's.

"Well," began Lady Cheerton, lowering her voice to a conspiratory whisper, "let me fill you two in." Poirot and Captain Severs glanced at each other and leaned slightly inwards to hear Lady Cheerton. "The lady... for want of a better word... standing alone by the window, is Mrs Patricia Fansmield." The two gentlemen looked towards the window and to the the woman to whom Lady Cheerton alluded. Patricia Fansmield, stood in a pair of fitted pedal pushers, a large glass of red in her left hand and a sour expression on her face. "Her husband, Professor Fansmield stands over there, with the taller gentleman, Dr Yorde and my ward, a Miss Jenni Ruth," Lady Cheerton pointed to the other side of the room at the (finite simple) group of order 3. Professor Fansfield had an authoratitive presence, despite his height and stood listening to Miss Ruth talk animatedly, dressed in a casual cream jacket and holding some folders. Miss Ruth was tall, towering over Professor Fansmield while Dr Yorde merely looked bemused and had a lost air about him.

Poirot continued to survey the room. In the centre stood a larger collection of people, and in the furthest corner, huddled away, and apparently having a heated discussion were another two gentlemen. "Zee gentlemen in zee corner" enquired Poirot, "who are they?". "The older gentleman is Professor Vector: Russian, very foreign" replied Lady Cheerton, pausing a second ro wrinkle her nose slightly and let the "very" linger in the air "and the other gentleman in Dr Gangle. I don't know much about him, he's new to the village. Nice enough," she shrugged. The two gentlemen appeared to have stopped arguing as the younger of the two swung around, revealing a Union Jack shirt and marched towards the group at the centre. Professor Vector remained in the corner, following the younger man with a hard, communist gaze. Poirot turned his attentions to the middle as Lady Cheerton continued with the descriptions "My husband, of course, the Reverand Doctor Kerry Cheerton, Lady Anne, Dr Lilac and the nephews of Professor Glasgow: Barrat and Trevelyan"

"Professor Glasgow?"
"Yes, the gentleman approaching Mrs Fansmield"

And as they observed, a rotund man ambled towards the surly woman at who remained at the window. He drank a cocktail decorated with a miniature umbrella and many kinds of fruit and he held a copy of Burden and Faires under his right arm. "That is Professor Glasgow."

"Ah, but of course. I 'av met him, in Sicily"
"Yes, he spends a great deal of time there"
"I say," said Captain Severs, "isn't he the chap who revolutionised solving a system of equations numerically? What was it again? A x equals to ..."
"B." concluded Poirot
"Yes, that's the chap"
"And rumour has it that at the coming seminars he plans to announce his ideas for A x equals to C" smiled Lady Cheerton
"No! You're kidding!" cried Captain Severs
"I'll tell you something, there's not a mathematician in this room who wouldn't kill for that research" opined Lady Cheerton.

A gong sounded, "Dinner everyone" chimed Lady Cheerton, and the guests made their way to the dining room.

Street Theatre

Today I walked into town and I enjoyed several hours watching some street theatre. There was some festival in the centre of Durham (these things always take me by surprise) and they had invited some circus acts. I saw a pair of acrobats; Jacob and Sophie and they were fantastic and there was the "amazing gareth" who juggled with a sword and a an actual chain-saw. It was really all very good.

Since returning back to my room I have not done any work but I slept for a while and am now watching my 4th episode of Agatha Christie's Poirot, "Adventure of the Italian Nobleman." I love how shows set in the 1930's are so stereotypically British. Everything is just so proper, and chats take place over tea served in china cups with matching saucers and people die just from a tumble down the stairs. The only crimes are crimes motivated by inheritence or to cover up scandals of illicit children or jewel robberies and murder is almost always conducted by poison painstakingly injected into a chocolate or the victim receiving a blow to the head with a bust. Insults like "You Brute!" and "You Swine" are banded about and whenever the murderer is revealed their accent changes from that of an upper-middle class gentleman to that of working class dialect. You've just got to love the British class system and all the traits associated with it. David Suchet is really very amusing as the pedantic, hypochanriac Poirot.

Now perhaps it is time that I exercised my own "little grey cells"... n'est pas?

A load of complaints

I think my advisor is trying to make up for the fact he hasn't been here for many many weeks by seeing me every second of the day. That doesn't really leave alot of time for productive work, nay work- yet he does not realise this. He will ask me if I've made any progress on what we talked about previously and my insides scream "No.. because I've barely left your office long enough to walk to my room and turn straight back around, let alone investigate the results of my computer code!"

I think I would like a break. I mean a proper one. Not a few hours where I don't work and just feel guilty about not working. I want at least a week. I can't wait to go home for a bit. My sleeping pattern is becoming disturbed again. I woke up late today as I fell asleep last night between 8pm and midnight and then got up to simultaneously run some tests and watch "The Bourne Ultimatum." I quite liked this film actually, even though I am not convinced I understood it- everyone looked the same to me. I also hand-washed some clothes, but just like in some awful sketch show everything white is now tinted pink. I don't even know how this could have happened as I wasn't even washing anything even remotely red! I also had to steal a washing rack under the cover of darkness to hang them on. It wasn't actually theft, more re-location of things around college. I'm also still waiting for Alan to come to tea.

So I didn't make it into the department until late and then I just had a really long coffee break, which spanned 2 hours. Then I hid from my advisor for a bit, systematically refreshing my inbox, praying he hadn't emailed me to tell me how crap I am/tell me he wants to see me, waiting until I could legitimately go home. I don't know why I do that; not let myself go home until after 6pm. Sometimes (ok, alot of the time) it's not even as if I'm doing anything other than lying with my head on the desk listening to depressing songs on YouTube, but if I stay in the department until 6pm I can somehow convince myself that the day wasn't a total write-off.

I think I might have actually been doing something today as suddenly my friend Amrita (Masters' student) came to join me and I realised it was 6.40pm . She was a bit upset as she'd just had a meeting with her advisor. We agreed that there is something very disheartening about sitting next to your professor for a few hours and having him tear apart your work. What is quite annoying is when you're both thinking about a problem and your professor is making "dum-de-dum" noises. What are motivational noises for him, are distracting noises for the student and soon all you can think about is the noise he's making.. and it has long since gone from your head what you're actually trying to do. Then he'll look up and say something along the lines of "come on, it's your work" and you just look blankly at him, while he makes a mental note (if you're unlucky it'll be verbal) that you're mentally sub-normal. Speaking of looking blank my advisor said I would have to give a talk on what I have found. Well now.. that will be short. Sometimes I think he says these threatening things just to watch me panic. One of these days it will backfire though and I'll actually have a heart-attack.

Eating habits die hard

My advisor thinks I'm an idiot. I was in his office this evening and I thought I saw something at the window (turns out it was a particularly large moth) and when he looked and couldn't see anything he said "did you see your own reflection?". Honestly, he must think I'm so stupid! I am not 1)5 years old 2)a dog and I can distinguish between my own reflection and something else. Although.. perhaps this may work to my advantage.. it is always best to keep expectations low.

I also think my advisor has been talking to the lecturer who quizzes me on my eating habits as today he presented me with a prepared lunch, which he branded a healthier "variety". That joke did win me over though. I can't work out whether he brought me food because he's worried I am slowly becoming malnourished or so that when I miss a meal staying in his office for hours at a time he doesn't feel guilty. I phoned my mum and she launched into her "well... what are you eating? You have to start eating properly? I bet you're so pale. etc" speech. In the end I only got her to stop when I promised to go to the doctor's to get tested for anaemia again. I'm probably not doing to do that though: I rarely walk into town to get food.. I find it unlikely that I will walk in to go and be told that I need a balanced diet. I already know that- I just find it tiresome to put into practice. I think I'll wait until I try and give blood again and then see if they send me away.

We had an interesting chat today (my advisor and I, not my mum and I) as to why the zeta(1) terms disappear in the depth 2 coproduct and seemingly not in the depth 3 coproduct. Today I had worked out the closed form for such terms and tried to look for relations between the MZVs, but to no avail. It threw up some very interesting questions though and a conjecturally nice idea that as large numbers get "pushed to the left" in permuations of of 3-digits numbers the coproduct of this MZV gets less "symmetric." So we lose symmetry in zeta(5,3,3) compared to zeta(3,5,3).It really is so interesting and I intend to run tests in higher depths to see what goes on. And actually zeta(3,5,3) is rather special, well, it is my favourite as it has no Double zeta term in the coproduct terms involving zeta(1). (Actually I worked out zeta(a,b,a) will never have any double zeta values in the coproduct terms involving zeta(1)).

Security man was fully clothed again tonight. Good.

The Return of the advisor

Huzaar... finally my advisor returns from the field. I presented him with everything I had done, he didn't seem too upset, so it was ok really. He gave me a few more ideas to think about. I need to try and convert my recently developed "intuition" for the calculating of the coproduct of the Multiple zeta values into some sort of picture, and then hopefully look for Knot patterns. I also need to look for collections of MZVs of higher weight that give a particularly small coproduct. I also want to learn about the Riemann-Roch Theorem. My advisor says that it is not especially relevent to what I am doing but in the paper "Double zeta Values and modular forms" [Herbert Gangl, Masanobu Kaneko, Don Zagier] the rough statement of Theorem 3 reads:

The values \zeta(od,od) of weight k satisfy at least dim S_k linearly independent relations, where S_k denotes the space of cusp forms of weight k on \Gamma_1.

Informally a cusp form is a modular form that vanishes at a cusp, and apparently one calculates the dimension of spaces of cusp forms via the Riemann-Roch theorem. So, it seems to me that the Riemann-Roch theorem is somewhat relevent. Anyway, I would like to know about it as it seems particularly fascinating. It will however require a brush up on differential forms, sections and the exterior algebra. Perhaps I ought to discuss these topics here, just to make sure I do know what is going on with them.

I managed to get up quite early this morning; the fear of being evicted scared me awake and I managed to leave without seeing anyone from the college. I am now in the departmental computer room, so I will stay here sufficiently late so as to avoid seeing anyone. Plus, they can hardly throw me out past midnight: that would be insane.

A Questionable Antipode Map

I needn't have worried about not getting a ticket for Bond, as there were only 7 of us in the entire screen. As predicted the rest of the audience were middle-aged lone-travelling men. I think one of them was mad, or at least was under the illusion he was in his own living room as whenever Sean Connery made some witticism he would cry out "oh.. classic Bond" or similar. In short we had a running commentary of this man's local opinion of the film. The cinema attendant seemed to tar us with the same brush and I'm quite convinced he would have seeled the room and released toxic nerve gas into it if he had had the option. I also think he would have been justified. So on the whole it was quite a good evening.

I went to the department on the way home and finished off my chapter on the Hopf Algebra of Iterated Integrals. I think I have made up what the antipode map is, it makes sense (to me) but I'm not sure if the Hopf Algebra is allowed to be involutive, as it is with my antipode map. I'll see what my advisor says about it. As I left the science site, though, I walked straight into a stationary truck. I was really annoyed, they shouldn't just leave trucks about in the pitch black where people can just walk into them. I could have been knocked out and died, or worse I could have been knocked unconscious and then that would have led to a really embarrassing scene when someone found me. Although god knows it wouldn't have been security that would have found me, I can only imagine what they do when they're on duty, but this evening after I returned from my prescribed long walk around Durham the college security guard was just standing only in his boxer shorts, smoking in the reception. Ok, number 1; it is illegal to smoke in that building and number 2, where were his clothes? Being repressively British I merely said hello, ignored his naked attire, and hoped he didn't think I had said hello in any other than my usual way. Although, why I worry that the unprofessionally naked security man should think I said hello in a non-usual way is ridiculous. I really hope that this isn't some sort of test the college are setting for me to see if I complain. I mean, he was breaking the law smoking. Oh, I hope they don't come and knock on my door tomorrow and evict me because I was technically complicit in a crime. I'll go to the department early to avoid them, and I will not bypass reception.

I could go to my advisor's office and wait for him to return, but I'd probably be waiting days. He did say he'd be back, first on the 10th August and then the 19th August... now..who knows? He doesn't seem to be too concerned with how my project is going. For all he knows I just used a highly erroneous antipode map!!!! Oh, he is going to be so disappointed with me when he comes back. I'll probably crack and scream "what do you want from me!!?". If I do do that I had better make it very clear that it is a rhetorical question though, as I absolutely do not need from him a list of things that he actually wanted me to do...

Overhauling my notation

As a subtle revenge plan on my advisor (who has now been missing in action for approaching 6 of the 8 weeks of my project) I am overhauling my notation, making my work impregnable to anyone other than me. Actually, I am just using the notation that I used as I went along and am just not converting it back into that used in the Goncharov paper. I personally prefer it, but then I would have to as it is my own idea behind it.

I'm waiting for LaTeX to compile. I seem to spend alot of my (work) time waiting for programs to compile. I have spent alot of time over the last couple of days talking to Ruth. I really like Ruth, she is the only thing keeping me sane here. She has so much time for people and I really admire that about her. Currently she is concerned that she is not a good enough mathematician and that she should just give up and become a nurse. We fantasised what it would be like for a while just doing a 9-5 job and being able to "switch off" when we got home. The unfortunate things about maths is that it will creep up on you even when you don't want it to; like in the middle of a film or a conversation. One thing I am sure about though, is that Ruth is a good enough mathematician not only to survive, but to do interesting things.

It's Saturday again now... my how these days just roll by. So the question arises, what shall I do tonight? Well today, I have a plan. I am going to watch a newly restored print of Sean Connery's Bond "Goldfinger." Well at least I hope to. There may be a run on tickets and I don't think I can rely on going alone to get one as I fully imagine the screen to be full of lone-travelling middle aged men. At least there won't be teenagers. I have checked the cinema timetable and the only alternative is the "Bourne Ultimatum" which starts a full 30 minutes before Bond, so hopefully when I arrive for the film there won't be any loitering children poised to make me feel bad.

Speaking of children making me feel bad, the NAGTY children had their leaving party last night. I think the college should definitely put up notices about these kind of events as I walked straight into it in my pyjamas on the hunt for Sprite. Honestly, you should have seen some of the looks I got. To combat this I didn't get Sprite but opted for an overtly labelled alcoholic drink. Ha.. I'm old enough to buy alcohol, so have fun and sit there drinking your "pop" judging me.. I can just legally block it out with mind-altering narcotics. So this group of children left.. but were replaced almost immediately by another load of them. I feel like there is some peverse American TV show casting them for my own personal nightmare.

Contempt loves the silence

Ok, so if I absolutely can not live in a Jane Austen novel then I think I'd like to live in 1200's England. Subject to certain conditions of course. Those being that it is exactly like the life that is portrayed in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves, that I am Maid Marion, that I can wield a sword well and that I am not subject to the pesky script where Marion has to marry Robin Hood. I would marry the Sherrif, and obviously the Sherrif of Nottingham would be Alan Rickman. And also there would be acceptable/excellent waste-disposal and medical facilities. And I'd have an internet connection.

Other than that I am sure I could survive the 1200's. I think I'd be quite good on a farm or something. I could be the person who works out where to put the fences, or counts the animals and keeps a record of them. I wouldn't want to work with them, or get too close to them. Although I once let a baby cow lick my hand, which was like velcro. It was quite cute and I think I could maybe pat the animals on the head, if there was fence between me and them and I was sure there was no chance of zoonosis and that they couldn't kick me.

Right, enough thinking of this. Back to work...

Chocolat and Chocolate

I didn't even go into the department on Sunday. In fact, I didn't even leave my room. I barely left my bed. I opted for "Chocolat" and chocolate and mused the day away feeling jealous of ladies in Jane Austen novels. Ladies in Austen novels are all effortlessly beautiful and gentlemen just fall in love with them with absolutely no encouragement other than a smile and a glimpse from under thick, perfectly curled eyelashes. I realise that this isn't real life, or that it probably is not a fair representation of real life in the late 1700's but I wish it were and it gave me something to while Sunday away being bitter about.

Monday followed with indecent haste and I toyed with some work. Well, toyed is the wrong word, I obviously mean grabbled with some work. It is annoying that any result I actually get I have to fight tooth and nail for, why can't, just once, a result pop out? But no, I am still waiting for that glorious moment when something works first time.

And it's Tuesday. I am trying to undo the errors I made yesterday. If I'm lucky I can catch them all today and then have only wasted 2 days. If I'm unlucky.. I'll be working on it for the forseeable future.

Dogma

"Dogma" is a fantastic film. Alan Rickman is very amusing in it, but I would definitely still have really enjoyed it even if he hadn't have been in it.

Today I have almost not done anything mathematical and for the first time in quite a while I didn't go back to the department in the evening. I decided that instead of not really doing any work in a work environment I would admit to myself that I'm not going to do any work and just enjoy the time. So I stayed in my room and I watched "Swimfan" and "Dogma." I went to investigate the wereabouts of the Daily Mail in the college and the visiting children all looked at me like I'd walked off another planet. I actually live here, if I want to walk around in my pyjamas I absolutely can. And I just know they hid the Daily Mail!

Today when I was in the department, a middle aged foreign man asked me what my plans were. As this was a rather vague question I just said "well I plan to go home and eat." And he launched into a speech where he said that he could tell I was "isolated" and "liked to be alone" and that if this continues I "won't ever get married." And he wasn't even my mum!!

Ain't nothing but a fruitcake!

I think that I have emerged from some terrible state of depression that was "last week." Today I feel happy(ier). My code, although not ideal, does what I want it to do and I am pleased with it. The sun is shining, the birds are singing.. etc. Actually the ducks are quacking, and really loudly. It's like they're shouting at each other at night.

I keep watching a very hilarious parody of Hogwarts set to the song of "Which Backstreet boy is gay?" by Weird Al Yankovich. It's just so funny.

I have done exactly no work today. I have stared at two equations, trying to verify them or otherwise... but I don't actually know what one piece of notation means; making it a somewhat impossible task.

You can't fight the tears that aren't coming.

I haven't felt at all well today and I spent the afternoon asleep. I felt all empty inside. I feel a little better now, I realised I hadn't eaten properly in a few days, so I rectified that. Sort of. I really must remember to eat. I suppose part of it was worry as well. I seem to be worrying alot recently, mainly about my project. I had emailed by advisor yesterday to tell him what I have done and I am very much concerned that his response will be something along the lines of "Oh my goodness.. you are so stupid! Why on earth have you done that?!" or "Ok.. so what else have you done? You've had 3 weeks... a slug could have done what you've done in 10 minutes!" He won't be impressed, but I just don't want him to be visably angry/annoyed/disappointed with me. Not when I have tried and I am proud of what I've done. Well, maybe proud is too strong a word- I am pleased that I have have ideas and made steps to implement them. Despite the fact that alot of them have gone vastly wrong I have a decreased sense of self-loathing that I kept going. I have only a very fragile grip on this feeling though and I don't want my advisor to come back and alert me to how rubbish I am. I already know that thank you and I absolutely do not need it highlighting!

Waiting...

Yesterday was very hot and the college was flooded with NAGTY children. I think I was delirious in the afternoon and I did something I regret. However, I do not wish to divulge it here. I thought, given the afternoon's lack of productivity and somewhat questionable behaviour that I would not be in the "zone" last night. (The "zone" being the mindset where nothing matters but the task in hand. And time just flys by and you suddenly emerge wondering why there is no music playing, when it finished hours ago. ) However last evening I did find myself in this place. It was mainly however fruitless.

I had told myself that if my code showed absolutely no promise by today then I would rethink the problem. Thankfully, the code is now calculating something. Yesterday it definitely wasn't doing anything and I couldn't work out why- but then I had a moment of realisation when I recalled I had changed notation a few days ago and had not switched parameters accordingly. So now it's doing something. I can say with absolute certainty that it is not correct, but I at least have something to build up from. Now comes to more arduous task of trying to find the errors. My program is now 17 pages of A4 long and I can not really remember what every little bit does... this will be very heavy weather.

I have spent today trying to eradicate the errors in my code. It is such a long process and I see very little results. It was all too much for me about mid afternoon when I couldn't work out why something was being multiplied by 2 for seemingly no reason and I just had to sit in the courtyard area to pull myself together. I did manage to hold back the tears, mainly. I have since worked out what happened, but again I have hit another stumbling block.

I need to not think about this code before I sleep as this morning something very bizarre happened. I dreamt that someone was shouting the first few lines of my program to me through the window and clearly this was upsetting for me so I must have left my room. I woke up on the bathroom floor at 6am. I am really glad no one found me; this is one massive risk of communal living.

I spoke to my parents today. I must never, ever tell them what I do to pass the time.

And I'm waiting again. I have decided to be positive though. There is a nice quote that I have to keep telling myself to stop myself from giving up, "Success is the ability to go from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm." Unfortunately I think this was written to console those who are not successful, so suitably I have adopted it as my maxim.

I don't want the world to see me (I don't think that they'd understand)... (Sense and Sensibility)

High heeled shoes are an absolutely ridiculous concept. They are just shoes with long spikes attached to them. Why? I walked into town to get a film listings guide from the cinema and saw several women tottering around in stupidly high shoes. Clearly they were in pain and I have no idea why they would want to put themselves through it. I think if everyone sat down and thought about them we could all agree they are utterly pointless and pain-inducing. It is so much easier to walk around in a flat-bottomed shoe.

It is Saturday night (technically Sunday morning) and I am in the maths department. I am clearly living what I imagine to be every mathematics undergraduate's dream. I suppose it doesn't matter that it's Saturday night, as I have done this for the past n nights, so why should this night be any different? Perhaps it is because Saturday night is supposed to be synonymous with fun? Well, maybe I am having fun. Just a really subtle kind of fun that is invisible to the naked eye. If we looked at the situation under a highly powerful microscope we may beable to detect it. I wonder if there is a poor soul over in the physics department thinking exactly the same thing. If there is, (s)he would have the equipment to test it. What can I do here in the maths department? Idealise myself as a graph and work out my Euler characteristic? Oh no...that does nothing!

I suppose I am having fun. I am:

1. Waiting for MAPLE to compile and run (and then display [in the best case scenario] an incorrect piece of data or [in the worst case] an error message)

2. Watching the same Alan Rickman clip from Sense and Sensibility over and over and over again.

3. Systematically refreshing facebook to see if anyone else out there has no social life.

Yes, that sounds like a party. Maybe if I developed a drinking problem this would all be easier!

If you want it to be good..

I had forgotten that in college people just walk into your room, uninvited at positively indecent hours. And by that I mean that this morning a cleaner just marched into my room at 9.30am this morning to change my rubbish bag. I don't like it. I also will have to investigate finding better food preparation tools. I don't like I can eat out of tin cans for the next month, however optimal I am making my washing up. Tomorrow I will go in search of a microwave or a toaster. I will have a decent meal of toast and warm spaghetti hoops yet!

I am really annoyed with MAPLE. I can't believe it doesn't have a built-in procedure to give multiple "nexts." So I have had to write a really convoluted piece of code to get around it because I don't know how to do anything efficiently in it. The whole program is now about 7 pages of A4 long when printed and is massively inefficient. It is taking 40-ish minutes to run! This is not good. It would be better if the results were right, but unfortunately, that is not the case. I have decided I will continue to plough on with this idea until the end of the weekend. If, by then, there are no hints of possible success I will re-think my notation. I really really hope it doesn't come to that.

I am feeling a bit lost at the moment. It's so lonely here and I just want to go home. I want my mum to cook me food and I want to watch a film with my brother and dad. I want to go out with my friends and I want to go to sleep not worrying about MAPLE. I don't want to feel constantly on the verge of tears.

Jo told me that she had her most frustrating day with her project today. Apparently the code she has to test wasn't running properly and her phD student spent 2 hours looking at it. Oh dear. That's what I feel like very day, except I don't have the luxury of a phD student to help and my code is just a load of rubbish that I've written myself, so I have no idea even if it's supposed to work. I want Colonel Brandon to want to marry me.

Far Away (Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves)

I managed to refrain from going home with my dad and have now moved into college. I am living in the small area reserved for postgraduates and it is all quite dismal. My room is actually quite large, but unfortunately (read as devastatingly) it does not have an internet connection. Also the kitchen is practically non-existent. It appears to have only a blender and a rice cooker and emits a curious, but disgusting smell. I dread to think what the people living around me are cooking up in there. It made me glad that I opted to buy powdered milk instead of actual milk as I don't think I'll be storing anything in that fridge. So I'm not sure what I'll be eating for the next month. Tonight I feasted on bread dipped in cold spaghetti hoops, and it wasn't that bad. On the up-side this means minimal washing up (i.e. none), on the down-side this makes me rather pathetic: a twenty-one year old sitting on the floor dipping bread into an open tin. My mum can never find out.

I suppose the lack on internet connection may force me to do a little more maths, which at this stage, can only be a good thing. I am now doing my best to interpret the notation I have devised into a generalised coproduct, but I am starting to doubt if this will work, and I begin to wonder if the notation I have laboured so hard over has been a complete waste of time. It would be very disheartening to have to re-think what I have done. However, for the moment I will remain positive and pretend the reason my idea isn't working is more due to my deficient MAPLE knowledge, rather than a flaw in the main idea.

I went to the cinema again. Finally, a positive to going alone- I got the last ticket to see "The Simpsons Movie." Ha Ha- a family ahead of me was turned away. I win. However, the film was not so good, but never mind., it served its main purpose as an activity to fill a gaping hole of an evening and that was all that I was looking for.

I found a really amusing clip of Alan Rickman being interviewed. He was on an american chat show and the host asked if he'd like a cup of tea and he replied:

"In America? I'd die!"

God, he's so funny.

Lazy or stupid?

My dad came to visit today, as tomorrow I have to leave my house. I had a really nice day. Obviously I gave myself the day off. I think I'm probably abusing the fact that my advisor is away as I seem to be giving myself many, many days off of late. Indeed, last week I gave myself 6 days off to visit a friend in Stratford-upon-Avon. But, I suppose what my advisor doesn't know won't hurt him. I am torn on what card to play when he gets back and I show him a definitely-smaller-than-he-expects amount of work: do I admit to being lazy or do I pretend that I am even more stupid than I am and claim it look me weeks to understand/do the work? "I worked really hard, Scout's honour". Lazy or stupid? Lazy or stupid?... That is the question. Maybe I'll spend a few days comtemplating that.

I really don't want my dad to leave tomorrow. I don't want to leave my house and go and live in college on my own. I want to go home with my dad. It will be all I can do tomorrow not to jump into the car with him, email my advisor to tell him I can't cope, I am insanely stupid, I'm dropping out of university and I'm going home to regress back to my formative years, in which state I plan to remain for the duration of my life.

To console myself, or torture myself perhaps, I am repeatedly watching Alan Rickman tribute videos on YouTube. I don't think this is a good idea:

(Pictures of Alan Rickman being happy with women)+(Sad song)+(Lack of ability to do one's project)= Mental break-down

This is an equation I plan to prove by exhaustion.

It's ok, it's not real life

Today I cleaned the house from top to bottom as I have to move out on August 1st. I pretended I was a cleaning robot and it worked quite well actually. I think I will always pretend to be a robot when I clean. It helps to think alot about angles and lines. A robot would definitely think about how to optimise their cleaning capabilities.

I found a video on YouTube today. It is "In Demand" by Texas. I know it's very bad to be so jealous of that woman, but I can't help it. I want to sit in a car with Alan. I want to tango with Alan. I damn well want Alan to smell my hair! But I will learn not to get upset about this. And indeed there are several reasons why;

1. The video isn't real life
2. The video isn't real life
3. The video isn't real life

Seriously, thank god the video isn't real life.

Alan, MAPLE and a cinema trip

This is a picture of Alan Rickman saying, "Hey, I'm relaxed.. I'm not always a villian- look at me pulling off a white, unbuttoned shirt."

Today I worked out why my MAPLE code was previously going so horrifically wrong. I had defined a permutation function (giving a set of permuted matrices) in a procedure and had another procedure depending on elements from this set (each time referring to the previous procedure). However the end result gave a different answer every time I ran the procedure and I think it was because each time it ran the procedure it conducted the permutations over and over again so when I was referring to elements in the set, sometimes they were the same and rarely were all the elements actually caught. So I fixed that and I am now getting nicer outputs. So hopefully I have generalised the generating functions for MZV's. Now comes the more difficult bit of writing a procedure to select required coefficients.


This is a picture of Alan Rickman being incredibly mysterious and sexy as Severus Snape. He is so beautiful. It's the dark hair, the dark eyes, the mouth, the height, the stature, the voice, the voice...

I went to see the latest Harry Potter film yesterday. It was alright, but I obviously will never like it as much as the book, as there is no way that the details that make the book so consuming can be done justice to in a mere 3 hours. I went on my own, due to lack of friends here, and the woman who served me made me feel quite humiliated. I asked if there were any tickets left for the film and she said "How many do you want?" and I replied "one." She could have left it at that, but oh no, "Just one!?!" she bellowed, causing the teenagers behind me in the queue to giggle, whilst I murmered a "yes" through gritted teeth and handed over my student card. Honestly, I do not need to be made to feel a complete and utter loser for going to the cinema alone. Anyway, there is nothing wrong with going to the cinema alone, it is a solo activity to sit in a cinema theatre and watch a film, in fact it is more on a hindrance to have people there. God, what do they want from me? Do they actually want me to have "REJECT" tatooed across my forehead so they can just point and laugh without having to wait for me to ask for a single ticket? It's not like I'm going bowling on my own. And I hate how teenagers hang around in massive, intimidating gangs- I never did that when I was younger. I hope they all feel embarassed too when they grow up and are forced to go to the cinema alone. Maybe next time I'll jst wait for the DVD release....

Alan Rickman

I'm not going to linger on the point, but I think I have fallen in love with Severus Snape. No, actually I think I will linger on the point. I could pretend that I have not been filling my hours thinking how unbelievably super he is and creating highly fantastical scenarios where we could meet, but that would be a lie. In an ideal world he would come and sweep me off my feet and we'd go and live in the wizarding world and be mathematicians and be really happy. And obviously he would not be dead and he would be Alan Rickman.

I really love Alan Rickman's voice. He is quite possibly one of the sexiest men in the world. May we also remember him in Robin Hood Prince of Thieves. He was by far the best person in the whole film and I have no idea why Marion would choose Kevin Costner over Alan Rickman. That is absolute insanity. She probably had no choice, due to script or whatever, but she could have put up a little less of a fight when he wanted to marry her. He's also very good in Love Actually. When I say "very good" I mean he is very attractive, but I do not like his character- he makes Emma Thompson cry, which isn't really on. I'm almost certain he wouldn't make her cry in real life though.

When I'm not busy lusting after Alan Rickman or any of the charcters he plays, fictional or otherwise, my project continues. It's actually, dare I say it, going ok at the moment. I have managed to generalise a particular proposition and in the not too distant future (hopefully within the next week) I will be in a position to glean from this the generalised generating series. Woop Woop. It would be really exciting if Alan Rickman were a mathematician and we could talk about my project, or if he were an expert on MAPLE and were really interested in MZVs. Then, I think, my life would be complete. I just really like Alan Rickman.

"Look..at..me"

I really like Severus Snape and I am so pleased that he was truly good. I felt very sad when Snape revealed that he had loved Lily Potter always.

****

"Hide them all, then," he croaked. "Keep her-them- safe. Please"
"And what will you give me in return?" Snape gaped at Dumbledore, and Harry expected him to protest, but after a long moment he said,
"Anything."

****

"After all this time?"
"Always" said Snape.

****

For me, these were the two most moving moments in the entire Harry Potter series.

Angry

I am very angry! The college is rubbish. Firstly they do not reply to not one but multiple emails concerning pressing issues such as accommadation. Secondly they keep you waiting for over 40 minutes while they are on break (and this wasn't even a lunch break). Thirdly they seem to want to leave me homeless. Fourthly they just send back parcels with the couriers despite my having told them not to and then they lie about having received a parcel in the first place! This led to a 46 minute telephone version of tennis where I had to ring the company sending me the parcel then UPS repeatedly as they both kept telling me conflicting things: too short tracking numbers, numbers that aren't even tracking numbers and of course I never spoke to the same person more than once and the whole thing was very tiresome. And now the parcel won't even arrive until Monday and who knows what the college will do with it then? Probably burn it.

And now I have finally arrived into the department to find I didn't attach my MAPLE file to the email I sent myself so I can't even do anything here. Well I'm not damn well leaving- I'll just rewrite the code, or else sit in front of this computer seething. I need coffee and if that woman in the cafe looks at me like I'm something that has just crawled from under a stone to disturb her very pressing task of "sitting and looking mutinous" when I ask for it I... well, I'll just be as polite as always, but rest assured I will be thinking angry things. When will she realise it's her job to get the coffee and stop resenting the students?! Aghh

A sociable evening

It has been a sociable evening. The other project student, Jo asked me to dinner at her house. As I didn't know where she lived she wrote a set of directions for me, which I proudly announce, I managed (eventually) to follow. Obviously there were a few minor errors, but I did not crack under the pressure. I feared I would subliminally sabotage my trip, just to excuse myself from a situation where I would have to make conversation with a person I do not know very well and a person I have never met before (Jo's housemate James). However, it was alright. The meal was very nice, obviously Jo is a very good cook and the conversation was not stilted. I have the after event paranoia now, where I dwell on the fact that they may have hated me and thought I was an utter weirdo. I imagine I came across as a little strange, but hopefully not TOO strange. Hmm... I bet they're laughing at me right now!

On average the last two days have been quite productive. Yesterday, I feel, was very productive but today was not- so overall it's ok (or at least that's what I tell myself.) Tomorrow, I have decided, will be productive. I absolutely will do alot of work and not be lured into playing online tetris.

Britain's Next Top what?

During the exams I became addicted to America's Next Top Model. Having exhausted all the cycles I have started to watch the new series of Britain's Next Top Model. I am so disappointed. As annoying as I found the girls in ANTM they at least all seemed to have really desired to be models prior to the competition, whereas in BNTM the producers appear to have collected girls from a variety of holes from around the country. The majority of the girls have awful tempers and their language is punctuated with slang and crude vocabulary. I'm not sure what they are all competing for, but by the looks of the contestants it won't be anything to be proud of... I really hope that people do not watch this programme and think that it is a fair representation of British females.

I am constantly bemused by the judges choice of expressions in all Top Model programmes (trust me, I am no stranger to the shows.. I clearly have a lot of time to waste). The judges periodically tell the girls to "serve it", "work it", "bring it", "be fierce" and all sorts of odd things. I don't understand why no one turns around and demands to know what this undefined article "it" is- how can anyone possibly "serve it" if they don't know what "it" is? To me fashion is portrayed as a very strange thing in these shows. If fashion is trying to "work it" in a dress that has a fake fin attached to it whilst standing in contorted positions, looking "fierce" then I happily embrace a fashion-free existence!

Minor success

I'm going to be ill, I can just tell. I feel weak and tired. I also can't work out how to make the heating come on. I can't believe I have lived in this house for almost a year and don't know how to make the water warm- how has that happened?

Mathematically, today was a minor success. I have figured out the programming problem I was experiencing. Well, it's more that I have figured out a way to get around the problem, rather than figured out what was wrong- but that will do for now. Hopefully, as a result, I can progress a little further.

It's quite interesting, when working in the library, to look at the way that people always like to work in the same place. For the past 5 days I have sat at the same computer and each day exactly the same people have sat around me. I wonder how many of them are actually working or pretending to work, like me.

Feelings of guilt

Today I have done absolutely no work. Instead I have sat for many many hours reading an e copy of the latest Harry Potter book. Apparently. Whether it is the real version or not, it had me gripped, and was a fantastic read. I really like reading Harry Potter, when I first read a new one of them I find myself in the dilemma of wanting to make it to the end, just to find out what happens, but never actually wanting it to finish. I suppose that always happens with a good book though. Several of my friends reprimmand me for reading them, saying they are "for children" and "a poor man's rip off of proper stuff in that genre," and that attitude irks me: that's the whole point. I like to read them because I don't want a challenge, I just want a thrilling tale to escape into, and I'll thank others to not try and lessen this escapade by trying to put the books down.

But now the feelings of guilt... I hate feeling guilty about not having done any meaningful work and I hate how the only way to quash the feeling is a hefty dose of unadulterated slave labour. So slave labour it will have to be... I met with the other project student and it has left me feeling a little sad. She was explaining how each day she goes into the department and meets her advisor and he tells her what to do and then she sits at her computer and starts running the tests &c and if she has any problems her advisor is literally a few metres away, or she can go to the phD student to whom she has been assigned. I know I shouldn't expect to receive alot of help, but it would be nice to have that level of encouragement, especially with the programming. Oh well, less complaining.

I am also really annoyed with the weather. I feel like the weather is tricking me. It seems that in the early afternoon (I would say morning here, but that would be a lie) when I leave the house, it is quite nice and so I am lured into believing that the day will be relatively sunny and leave without a coat. But lo, the sky darkens and cracks and I am yet again forced to march home in the pouring rain with neither coat nor umbrella.

I also have to go food shopping soon. I have been putting that task off for a while now, but I have literally a tin of beans and some jif lemon, and a meal that does not make. I should develop a food pattern I suppose- but it's all just such a hassle and I think I'd just rather not eat! I wish there was just a pill I could take en lieu of a meal, that would suit me fine.

The efficiency of my life

Today has not been a good day. I woke up, much later than planned, to the beeping of my carbon monoxide alarm. It seemed to be low on battery so I changed them and went to the department.

MAPLE was being rubbish. I can't work out what to use for an anticommutative product and so all my calculations are wrong. I tried to plough on, but for some reason I just couldn't concentrate and so instead opted for wasting alot of time reading online comics. I find I can waste alot of time reading the archives of http://www.xkcd.com/, and it's surprising how many of them I can relate to: I spend quite a lot of time thinking about the efficiency of my path.


I really need to start organising my days better. Tomorrow, I will definitely be in the department for 10am!

So I arrived home, having achieved very little. I checked the CO alarm and it started beeping furiously. Panicked to see the display at 192, I immediately phoned British Gas. After being given a list of safety instructions;

1. Stay out of the house
2. Do not light naked flames
3. Do not use any electrical appliances

I was left to sit outside my house and wait for the on-call engineer to arrive. When he came we went inside [note: the first thing he did was to turn on a light!] and I was a little concerned to see that the count had returned to 0 and the alarm had stopped sounding. Eventually, he established there was no leak and told me with a smirk that I had pressed the test button instead. It was deeply embarrassing and after a little laugh at my expense he left. Is it weird that I wish there had been a leak? Not a serious one, but just a little one so that I had a reason for my call. It really annoys me that I am so terrible at dealing with things.

Straight up, now tell me..

I have clearly previously underestimated the musical genius of Paula Abdul: "Straight up" has to be one of the best songs I have listened to on youtube for the past few weeks. It may even make it onto my Ipod play list.

I remain alone in my house and I am quite enjoying it. No one comments about my eating and sleeping habits, or lack of both. Plus I think i'm getting better at cooking; I have very much mastered noodles and I really like beansprouts. I probably should branch out and try different food stuffs but Waitrose is too far away and I find it very boring at the supermarket. The supermarket is full of people living actual lives, putting things like greek yoghurt and humus into their baskets and walking very slowly, carefully inspecting tins and bread. I feel like shouting at them "it doesn't matter if the milk goes out of date in one week or one week and a day, you and your family will have finished that and several more before then, now move out of my way!!" It would be alot better if shopping were done in the style of Supermarket Sweep, it would be more fun and quicker. Obviously without the novelty inflatables- I think they would distract and I would once again leave the supermarket without having purchased toilet roll.

The maths is going ok. I'm making my way through "Galois symmetries of fundamental groupoids and noncommutative geometry" (Goncharov). It is making sense slowly.. almost painfully slowly actually.. but nevermind. I have managed to successfully derive the coproduct generating function for MZVs of depth 2 and hope to look in the not too distant future at higher depths. However a massive problem at the moment is my complete lack of computer knowledge. Ideally I would have put all this into PARI gp but so far,

PARI gp: 17
Me:0

and I am being very harsh with PARI's score there! My laptop runs on Windows and so I can not figure out how to do anything with PARI gp. Obviously I only discovered this fundamental flaw after several painstaking hours trying to make the damn code work. As soon as I started to yield results I discovered I did not know how to save it, then it wouldn't let me cut what I had done out and save into a different program. So I thought "ha, I'll just never turn my computer off".. but then my computer crashed!!! So MAPLE it is, good old MAPLE- surely it won't let me down.

My project advisor has left for a month now; this worries me slightly- who is going to tell me what to do? Who is going to look over what I've done and point out all the ridiculous arithmetic errors? I asked what he wants me to achieve while he is away with the intention that I could haggle down the expectations. In a happy situation I would be busy generalising... we'll see what happens..

Out of my mind

Today I have been thinking about double shuffle relations between MZV's (multiple zeta values). There is an excellent paper by Kentaro Ihara, Masanobu Kaneko and Don Zagier "Derivation and double shuffle relations for multiple zeta values" on the subject. I think that I have understood the idea of the harmonic product and the shuffle product and now I am trying to get my head around regularisations of MZV's. So I'll see how that goes in the next few weeks...


Yesterday the local Amnesty International group and the university Amnesty chapter organised a peaceful protest against Guantánamo Bay. The protest involved 8 people being dressed in orange boiler suits and masks to represent the UK 8. I spent a few hours asking people to sign the petition, http://www.amnesty.org.uk/petitions3.asp to join Amnesty in urging US President George W. Bush to close Guantánamo Bay and ensure that all detainees are either released with full protections or charged and brought to full and fair trial in the US courts. Overall, the day was successful: many signatures were collected and more importantly I feel alot of awareness was raised. The most fulfilling part of the day was when young children came up to ask about what we were doing and seemed genuinely interested.





However even with suntan lotion I have fallen foul of the powerful rays of the sun. Hopefully the pain and redness will fade soon, to leave a glowing, sun-kissed tan.. although I doubt it...

The etiquette of street walking

This morning I decided that I do not own a large enough Russian-English dictionary, so I marched myself into town to get one. On my way home I found myself in a situation that I really dislike: a long straight pavement and 50 metres ahead of me a person walking towards me. Immediately I start to panic.

Now I never know what to do when I walk past people on the street. I never know whether to look at the person or to not to look at the person. Its the agony of two people walking in opposite directions about to pass each other. I see the person and I know that they know that I've seen them. And it is never seems right/possible to make eye-contact for those painful 20 metres before the cross. I develop a nervous head twitch where I pretend to have noticed something very interesting on the side of the road, but I have to keep looking back at the other person to see if they are looking at me. Or I pretend that I am thinking about something intently so develop the "glazed over" expression of "I'm looking right through you and don't know you're there." I look at my watch/phone/anything to hand, just to have something to look at that is not this other person. I always worry that the music on my Ipod is too loud and that the peron will hear me listening to Wham and think that I am a very tragic individual. I also worry about my walk- am I walking too bouncily? Is the other person thinking that I am walking too bouncily?

And the other person never seems to be as uncomfortable with this situation as I am.

I can ignore the person and walk past them like they don't exist. Smile at them and run the risk of them not smiling back or worse just staring at me like i'm mad and that smiling at people in the street should carry a minimal sentence of 6 months at a suitable institute to rehabiliate you back into normal society. Or I start to smile at them, but get scared and it instead looks like I'm smiling manicly at a piece of litter on the ground.

And then once the pass has happened I breathe a sigh of relief and then look up.. only to see another person and have the whole trauma happen again.

There is of course the other option of just crossing street. But then I have to entertain the idea that the other person knows that I have crossed the street just to avoid the pass.

I think the government should adopt one way pavements- it would save me a lot of anxiety.