Extraordinary numbers

[desperance]

I like numbers. I always have. (My dad was an accountant, my granddad was a bank clerk, and you can tell me it's not genetic all you like, and I just won't care; numbers are good to me, and that's that.) But here is a number that I just think is extraordinary.

All throughout the writing of this book, I have been saying two things, to myself and to anyone who feigned any interest at all: that I was aiming at 450 pages, and that that would be 150,000 words.

I have just completed page 450. Guess how many words, by a precise Textmaker count? 149,990. How good is that?

The only trouble, of course, is that I haven't finished the book. But they never do come in on length, any more than they do on time. Everything Takes Longer, in all possible meanings of the words.

You'll excuse me, if I duck out now to go finish my chapter.

Comments

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Yes, that Pitman. On Grandma's 90's birthday, my aunt arranged for some local bell-ringers to do one of his peals at Bristol cathedral. We all solemnly turned up and listened for quarter of an hour or so (out of the three hour total) and went "Hm, yes".

Ach, what else could you do? Change-ringing is not about an audience, it's about the changes: maths expressed in sound. You might as well listen to a dial-up modem.

Mind, I once had a conversation with a friend about the effects of change-ringing on the English landscape. It was a wonderful conversation. We were out in the wilds on a canal boat and we were very, very stoned, and these bells were clamouring across the country and it was all so very, very right...

Grandma used to proof-read his compositions.

Now that is the higher mathematics and the higher love, expressed in a single action. Heroic, in a word.