Wet enough to grow rice

In recent weeks the weather has said, "Try a bit of this," or "try a bit of that". We've had snow and sleet, sunny warm days and wet dismal ones. Two thunderstorms came and went and as for wind; it has either been calm or enough of a gale to force the trees to curl their roots into the soil for fear of taking off. Yet the spring plants are doing just what they should, catkins are hanging from their twigs and there is a good mountain of frogspawn in the ponds. The little ones were delighted at the weekend as we took over a pair of white ducks from the owner of the last house before the bridge. They have settled well, except that certain little people won't leave them alone - the novelty may pass. A less welcome visitor has been a fox. Not only have we heard it (a bin tipped over) and the unmistakable bark, but yesterday morning we found some hair on the edge of the wire fencing at the chicken enclosure. So we also know Mr or Mrs Fox is taking an interest in our fowl. Naughty!

If every readers visit London it is worth going to Hays Galleria, using many of the buildings from the old Hays Wharf, where in the 19th century, ships from around the world would unload foods for the nation. Today there is an amusing sculpture as a centre-piece. Note the chain. We could probably calculate how much iron wire is needed to make a given length of chain. The Pulse will work on this little problem - with or without any help from younger family members who may or may not think they are good at maths - and report back in a later blog.

The questions the little ones come home from school with amaze The Pulse at times. This week it is how many grains of rice in an egg cup? "That will take forever," was the resigned comment. Then we will have to make the task easier, was the learned response from His Seniorship. "By breaking a large task into smaller steps." So the packet of rice was duly found in a kitchen cupboard, together with an egg cup. With a teaspoon and a small slip of card handy the scientific work could begin. A spoonful of rice was levelled with the card and the contents laid out on the table. Patiently the counting began and an answer obtained. Flat teaspoonfuls of rice were then transferred from the packet directly to the egg cup until it was full. Having a second person standing by avoided any miscounting. Now all we need to do is multiply the number of grains in one teaspoonful with the number of teaspoons needed to fill the cup. "I knew that all along really, was a confident year 5 reply; I just wanted to know whether you knew." Cheeky!

You could get lost in there

This family's occasional foray upcountry to visit kin during a holiday period came about last week, and among the endless games of football, looking - again - at family photos and exchange of news about those not present, there were also welcome walks in the fresh air which took everyone who chose to away from the fireside (perhaps these days it should be called away from the radiator-side!) The expansive hills and dales and the crisp cold of the post-snow previous week, did everyone's lungs a power of good. The little ones and their many cousins frequently came upon what they described as lop-sided trees: those which produces masses of branches and twigs on one side of the trunk, but next-to none on the other side. This is a product of the strong prevailing winds, the direction from which is plainly obvious. It struck The Pulse that, for the most part, we see trees as mainly symmetrical plants with the trunk as roughly in the centre, giving equal support to all of the branches, no matter in which direction they spread. Presumably this gives rise to the stick-and-blob paintings with which very young children see trees. So it comes as a surprise when these short trees are encountered, understandably leaning away from the forceful wind. They are certainly far from a satisfying symmetry.

Children love huge numbers, even if they do not fully understand their magnitude. Give them a massive number and put it in some context, and listen to the reply: "Wow!" They are truly impressed. So it was that The Pulse read out an article as we sped home on one of those speedy trains run by National Express. In China there is a bazaar - a kind of market for business people. It contained masses of small manufacturing firms all anxious to sell every imaginable product to every imaginable customer business. Sixty thousand little firms. The halls of this extraordinary marketplace spread over an area the size of 800 football pitches (try 40 pitches long and 20 deep). It is said that a prospective buyer spending only three minutes with each of the manufacturers and who spent eight hours at the market each day, would need to spent more than a whole year to make his or her way round the lot! Makes you wonder about the size of the car park, doesn't it.

Snow and floods - what a week!

Well, the school managed to stay open all week, and opportunities were taken for a little creative sculpture - groups of children made their own snowmen around the edge of the small playground. It seems that science experiments were also undertaken about the way snow melts and what happens when it is squeezed hard. The Pulse so wishes he was learning science in a primary classroom again. Mid-week the little ones went armed with a pair of stories about the snow on Thursday morning.

This week everyone is trying to cope with the flooding which inevitably comes with the slightly higher temperatures and continuous rain. All over the world people have to learn to cope with it. Families spend the holidays by and in the largest body of water on the planet; the little ones spend half their lives in the summer months either at the swimming pool or by or in the nearby river. It is just that large volumes of water where they are least expected cause the problems which damage homes and sweep away farm animals. But it shouldn't be a surprise, since all of the usual places around here have their usual share of excess water - including down by the bridge and halfway down the Pulse garden. The chickens are presently on their perches or the upper level, but were seen earlier pecking while wading on the floor. So the water didn't seem to worry them.

The Schools Secretary of the government yesterday announced that school children (why doesn't he doesn't just say children as all children are school children?) should take up cricket to improve their maths. "Playing the game helps develop skills such as managing statistics and working out sums under pressure." Quite. But that can apply to many sports and other games but The Pulse agrees with the principle. Playing games and sports certainly helps this family, and quite apart from score-keeping and the inevitable arguments, everyone is healthy - most of the time - and relaxed. Since the youngest is joining the local juniors cricket club this season he will soon want to be impressing the rest of the family with his current batting average.

Sliding all the way to school

Snow comes as a great excitement to children and as an irritant to many adults. If they can't get to work then they may not get paid, or if they do it is often at the expense of a considerable amount of time and effort before repeating the agonising travel in the evening. Both working adults here, the parents of the little ones, seemed extra tired last evening. Fortunately the little ones attend school in the village and many of their teachers live within sledging distance, as it were. The family received an internet alert via the school's website to say the school would open for those who could make it, but urged parents not to deliver their youngsters by car. The Pulse, the little ones and a few of their friends began what became a slow but enjoyable expedition down via the bridge to the school, where the caretaker had cleared a path and laid down some road salt. Yesterday continued as normal for about two-thirds of the children. [So, how many is that for a school of 275 children?]

The chickens were attended to as usual when school was finished. A bucket which had filled with water over recent rains was standing near the shed and this was to be used today to clean down the concrete floor which covers part of their run. Next to it was a bucket placed there on Sunday. Yesterday evening it was full - of snow. The older one lifted both buckets and immediately put them down again. She was surprised that the snow bucket was much lighter yet was just as full as the other. "But snow is made of water too," she said. Of course snow is made of something else as well, and that something else is much lighter. Air. We could measure the difference The Pulse suggested. The difference in mass was staggering, nearly a quarter. Then the younger one pressed the snow down hard and collected more snow from outside until no more could be fitted in. Even then there was a small difference. Their mum called out to inquire whether the chickens had been fed yet. Oh yes, that's what they went out for. As the younger one prodded the broom at the wet concrete he pondered: if snow is lighter than water, is a bucket full of ice also lighter? Hmm, we will have to find out - but not this evening.

At the third wet stroke ...

Another wellington boots and umbrella morning as The Pulse walks with the little ones to school - we are practising some times tables as we walk. Games like, can we say the six times table backwards before the next lamp post? Another good one is for The Pulse to say some numbers and they have to call out which table they are in - except that occasionally numbers like 51 and 13 are thrown in to keep them extra alert. There are always two breaks in this routine; one is at the bridge where there is time for reflection (literally), to watch the water flow and the moorhens, swans and coots going about their daily routines. Then there is the essential purchase of the daily paper. Avid readers of this blog will be perplexed because the paper boy (actually paper girl at present) makes her daily drop at the house more or less in time for breakfast. This extra read is taken when the opportunity offers, for a longer read and a more or less straightforward crossword puzzle.

The poster outside the shop announced that octuplets had been born to a mum somewhere in USA. The older one stared and murmured something like, "what? Eight of us to the same mum. How will she cope?" To which yours truly responded, "difficult enough with just a quarter of that number." She smiled coyly.

As we reached the beginning of the green school fence we looked across at the sun dial installed a few years back by the PTA. We all agreed there didn't seem much point when the weather is like this. "Why do we have to put up with all this rain?" asked the younger rhetorically. The Pulse answered anyway. Something to do with it being the same for snow, heat, wind and anything else - nowhere is perfect, and in any case we have waterproof skins and we can dry our clothes; no damage done. Staring more closely at the dial little one the younger: "so you tell me what the time is then?" At that point the bell was rung by one of the year five children without a coat on and the next generation trooped in to dry their clothes and practise their six times table.

In case anyone outside of this soaking wet corner of the UK is remotely interested there was a substantial majority vote against anything which included road humps. So, for the council it's back to the drawing board.

[Sun dial at Milton Keynes]

Vote for the good guy

A well-reported event on Tuesday had commentators completely flummoxed. Viewing the assembled populace in the winter cold for the inauguration of the 44th American president, one BBC commentator hazarded a guess at one million, maybe two. Well, one million people is a lot of people to misjudge. If the Pulse attended a sports event and estimated a crowd of 500, maybe a thousand, that's probably acceptable. But to be wrong by a million? Round the kitchen table that evening a grown-up discussion on the subject (the little ones were in bed by this time) resolved that sight estimates of a million people are almost impossible, let alone any larger number. It makes us wonder whether those who know about these things are able to employ any technology to count heads.

It's voting time in this provincial parish - it's all about whether or not the village wants speed humps, chicanes and "gateways" - those white open fences on either side of the road at the boundaries of the village, usually in conjunction with signs which say "Welcome to our village; please drive carefully." Of course, the little ones have a view on this, and they are split down the middle, which creates healthy arguments but at inappropriate times. They are making a prediction on the outcome of the vote and are already predicting who they think will not vote at all. It's a straightforward yes or no, even though some residents The Pulse has been talking to want something, but not what is proposed. Since only adults on the voting list can vote the top two classes at the local school are having a vote of their own based on a certain amount of evidence from traffic surveys, opinion polls outside the local shop last Friday. The policeman came along yesterday to talk to them about speed guns and other wizardry now employed to pull over motorists getting too excited about their speed. Their teacher even worked with a group of them to work out speed through the village over a measured distance and a stop watch. The only problem was, over half of the cars they started to measure turned in at the new car park! Seems there's a lot of maths in a hot issue like this. Anyway, everyone in this particular neck of the woods will have to wait until next Monday to discover the result.

A bucket of the white stuff

Well, at last The Pulse can wish everyone a Happy New Year. The little ones are back at school, their parents are at work, and yours mathematically has the house to himself for another hour or two. Instructions have been left, however, to finish moving all of the Christmas decorations into the attic space; next time we look at them the little ones will be another year older - mind you, we'll all be another year older!

One shop we nearly passed last week when we visited town was a seasonal one - a kind of pound shop but mainly games, toys and Christmas things we could buy ready for next year. One item we came across was a book of tear-off bingo slips. Suddenly, The Pulse had one of those rare but brilliant ideas. By using a column at a time this was great practice in mental addition and subtraction. So each evening we all tear off a slip and sit wherever we are comfortable and calculate all sorts of permutations of numbers which appear on our slips. The older little one can work additions horizontally where there may be three or for numbers to add; the younger one circles any of the units digits and multiplies by the other numbers. Ten minutes and then it is often time to eat. Look out for these books.

Everyone enjoyed themselves playing in the snow last week. While it snowed most years on several occasions when The Pulse was in short trousers, it is rare these days for there to be enough of the white stuff to build a snowman with, let alone an igloo. For some reason we worked out how many snowballs it would take to fill the empty bucket standing near the garage. "We've got to each have a guess first." Needless to say none of us was really really close, but it was great fun counting - every ten snowballs we added a small handy and empty plant pot to the pile in case we mis-counted. Returning to collect the bucket for a washing task yesterday evening we discovered that the bucket was slightly less than half-full of water. Now there's a thing. The cat was thirsty? The sun has evaporated some of the water? Someone has used it? Well, there is an explanation and we are talking volume here; air as well as snow. Any ideas? The little ones want to try this investigation again under more controlled conditions - their science lessons obviously come in handy - but The Pulse's estimate is that they will have to wait a very long time.