Pablo’s First Christmas

9 Dec

Here’s a competition I couldn’t resist. Children’s writer Susanna Leonard Hill has launched her fourth Annual Holiday Contest – a December tradition that has hitherto passed me by. The task this year: write a children’s story of 350 words or less in which wild weather impacts the holidays. Here’s my effort:

 

Pablo’s First Christmas by James Lloyd (349 words)

Like most parrots, Pablo had never heard of Christmas. After all, not many animals celebrate Christmas in the wild and windy jungle.

But, one December, Pablo had a rather unexpected adventure.

It all began when he was out looking for some breakfast. He’d just spotted some nice, juicy mangoes when a hurricane appeared out of the blue, ripping through the trees and sucking him into its spiralling winds.

Whooooosh! Before he knew it, Pablo had been carried high above the clouds, and when the hurricane finally died down, he found himself in a quiet, suburban street. Christmas lights shone overhead, and the ground was dusted with a layer of fine, untrodden snow.

“How pretty!” said Pablo, smoothing down his feathers. He peered through the window of the nearest house. Inside was a beautiful Christmas tree, glittering with baubles and tinsel, and around it were three children, excitedly opening their presents. Rich smells of roast turkey wafted through the letterbox as Pablo watched them play, but as much as he wanted to join in, he was already missing his home.

“Brrrr,” shivered Pablo. “It’s much too cold here for a parrot. I’m going to go home and show all the other animals how to celebrate Christmas.” So Pablo spread his wings and flew off towards the jungle.

When Pablo arrived home a few days later, the other animals hurried towards him.

“Where have you been?” they asked.

“Well, you’ll never guess,” said Pablo. “A hurricane swept me away to a cold, faraway place where they celebrate Christmas.”

“What’s Christmas?” they asked.

“Oh, it’s amazing,” said Pablo. “There’s snow and there’s lights and the humans all give each other presents.”

“And what do they eat?” asked the lion.

“Roast turkey,” said Pablo. “It smells delicious!”

“You know, there aren’t any turkeys in the jungle,” said the crocodile, a mischievous glint in his eye. “We’ll have to find another bird instead.”

Pablo noticed that all the other animals were looking in his direction, their mouths drooling.

“Oh guuuuys!” said Pablo. “Come on!”

And from that day on, he never mentioned Christmas again.

 


Check out all the other entries on Susanna’s blog here.

Sam at the Window

7 Jul

I recently finished a children’s story called Sam at the Window. Most of it was written a year or so ago, but I’ve just had it illustrated by a wonderful artist called Stefania Manzi.

The story’s about an old fisherman who spends his days watching the world go by from his window, until his routine is disrupted by the appearance of a pint-sized Viking warrior… you can read it below (click the ‘full screen’ icon in the bottom right to make it bigger).

 

Newton’s Apple: Fact or Fiction?

6 Jun

We all know the story. A young Isaac Newton is sitting in his garden when – plonk! – an apple falls onto his head. As the scientist rubs his sore scalp, an idea enters his mind – could the same force that brought the apple plummeting to the ground also explain the motions of the Moon and the planets? In that instant the theory of gravity is born! At least that’s how the story goes. But did this cranial collision ever really happen?

Is Newton's apple just a maggot-infested myth? (credit: dreamiurg)

Is Newton’s apple just a maggot-infested myth? (credit: dreamiurg)

Newton’s famous apple incident is an event that – if true – pretty much kick-started modern science. By inspiring Newton’s theory of gravity, it laid the foundations upon which countless great minds have built their ideas. But did Newton really develop his theory after seeing a cascading apple? Or is the whole tale just a maggot-infested myth that’s been passed down through the years? I decided to find out.

The case for the fruity legend

Probably the most obvious place to look for evidence would be Isaac Newton’s own journals and notebooks. But alas, Newton never mentioned the apple in any of his writings. Instead, we must turn to a man named John Conduitt, who wrote about the incident some 60 years later. Conduitt, a politician by trade, was Newton’s assistant at the Royal Mint and the husband of Newton’s beloved half-niece, Catherine Barton.

In his Draft account of Newton’s life at Cambridge, Conduitt describes a fresh-faced, 23-year-old Isaac Newton returning to his mother’s Lincolnshire home in 1666 – not because he missed his mum’s cooking, but because the plague had forced Cambridge University to shut down. There, Conduitt wrote, “whilst he was musing in a garden it came into his thought that the same power of gravity (which made an apple fall from the tree to the ground) was not limited to a certain distance from the Earth but must extend much farther than was usually thought…”

So Conduitt may not describe Newton taking an apple to the head, nor even that the scientist actually observed the falling fruit, but he at least makes a pretty strong reference to it.

Woolsthorpe Manor - Newton's Lincolnshire birthplace (credit: David Ireland)

Woolsthorpe Manor – Newton’s Lincolnshire birthplace (credit: David Ireland)

Around the same time, the French philosopher Voltaire was also helping to perpetuate the fruity legend. In An Essay Upon the Civil Wars of France (1727), he wrote: “Sir Isaac Newton walking in his gardens, had the first thought of his system of gravitation, upon seeing an apple falling from a tree.” Voltaire probably heard the story from Catherine Barton, whom he described as Newton’s “very charming niece”, when he visited England in the 1720s.

But the strongest evidence for Newton’s apple comes from another of Sir Isaacs’s close friends, an antiquarian called William Stukeley. In 1752, a quarter of a century after Newton’s death, Stukeley published his Memoirs of Sir Isaac Newton’s Life. Truth be told, it’s a rather drab and long-winded account of the scientist’s life (though we do find out what the great scientist had for breakfast: “an infusion of orange peel in boiling water”, apparently, “with bread & butter” functional yet tangy). But there on page 15, in a beautifully handwritten script, is an anecdote that waters the mouth more than a freshly-baked apple pie…

William Stukeley's handwritten apple anecdote

William Stukeley’s handwritten apple anecdote

One spring day in April 1726, Stukeley visited an 83-year-old Newton in Kensington, London – at that time situated in the countryside. The two men spent the day together, profiting from the fresh air and chatting on into the evening.

“After dinner, the weather being warm, we went into the garden, and drank thea [sic] under the shade of some apple trees…,” recalled Stukeley. “Amidst other discourse, he told me, he was just in the same situation as when formerly, the notion of gravitation came into his mind. ‘Why should that apple always descend perpendicularly to the ground,’ thought he to himself, occasion’d by the fall of an apple, as he sat in a contemplative mood. ‘Why should it not go sideways or upwards but constantly to the Earth’s centre?’”

So, while drinking this cup of ‘thea’ in the dusky evening light, an elderly Sir Isaac actually recounted the falling apple story to his friend Stukeley. The famous apple! From the horse’s mouth!

A mouldy tale?

But can we really trust Stukeley? After all, he was a very good friend of Newton and may have been tempted to mythologise the scientist. As Scott Berkun, author of The Myths of Innovation, writes: “biographers, certainly in 1720, are not objective reporters running around checking facts. They are often fans of their subjects, as Stukeley was of Newton.”

And why would Newton have waited 60 years before sharing the story with someone? One explanation may be that he saw a falling apple in his youth and gradually embellished the story over time. It’s easy to see why it’d be such an attractive tale: a simple visual metaphor for his “Eureka!” moment; a humorous way to explain how gravity works. And then there’s the fact that Newton was deeply interested in religion, so the nod to the Garden of Eden’s forbidden fruit might have appealed to him.

But even if Newton did observe a tumbling apple in 1666, it’s highly unlikely that he developed his theory of gravity right there on the spot. At some point, though – and this is what fits in nicely with the apple story – he came to realise that the same force which governs the acceleration of objects towards the ground also reaches far out into space. It wasn’t until 1687, some 20 years after the alleged apple incident, that Newton published his universal law of gravitation, showing that the orbits of the planets around the Sun – and the Moon around the Earth – could be explained by the bodies’ mutual gravitational attraction.

The Moon's orbit - beautifully explained by Newton's law of universal gravitation (credit: wvs)

The Moon’s orbit – beautifully explained by Newton’s law of universal gravitation (credit: wvs)

One thing we can be sure of is that the apple never struck Newton on the head. That detail was added by a later writer, Isaac D’Israeli, who evidently had a penchant for slapstick comedy. But that hasn’t stopped the story from entering popular consciousness. Woolsthorpe Manor, Isaac Newton’s birthplace and the home he returned to in 1666, has since become something of a pilgrimage site for starry-eyed physicists. In the house’s garden, visible from Newton’s old bedroom window, is said to be the very apple tree that the young scientist sat under nearly 350 years ago.

The apple tree under which Newton is said to have sat. The tree was reportedly re-rooted after a storm toppled it in 1816 (credit: dexter_mixwith)

As for the apple itself, the tree at Woolsthorpe Manor produces a rare variety of green cooking apple known as ‘Flower of Kent’, which has been described as mealy, sharp, and quite flavourless. So if Newton really did see one fall to the ground, he probably didn’t enjoy eating it.

Ultimately, perhaps we’ll never know the full truth behind Newton’s apple. Maybe we should trust those anecdotes provided by his friends. Maybe, in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t really matter. After all, Newton went on to develop his theory of gravity in the end, apple or not. One thing’s for sure though – we should be glad that it was Newton sitting under that tree. Anyone else would have required a whole barrel full of fruit…

This blog post is based on an article published in the June/July 2013 edition of Guru magazine… download the magazine for free here!

Recent writings…

9 Feb

Some of the recent writing shenanigans that I’ve been getting up to…

  • I’ve written an article for the ever-brilliant (and now Wellcome Trust-funded) Guru magazine about the science of dancing. Guru is well worth a look if you haven’t checked it out yet… plenty of thought-provoking articles to get your teeth into (and it’s free to download as well). The February/March issue is out now.

Science of dancing

  • The March 2013 issue of BBC Focus magazine features my interview with Silas Beane, a theoretical physicist who thinks he’s found a way to test the idea that we’re all living inside a Matrix-style simulation. Mind-bending stuff…

Living in a simulation?

  • I’ve also been finding time to write a few short pieces of fiction, including “Little Death” (the story of a trainee Grim Reaper), a poem about history called “Hitler was a Milkmaid” and some other bits and bobs.

Yappy New Hear!

30 Dec

A very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to one and all!

And so ends another year. WordPress tells me I’ve written 21 blog posts in 2012… not exactly a mind-blowing number maybe, but one I’m pretty happy with given that 2012’s been a year of new jobs, house moves, and stockpiling for the impending apocalypse (!).

Anyway, here are my blog posts that have had the most views this year, in case anyone’s stuck for some holiday reading…

And to finish off 2012, here’s a beautiful science-themed artwork by an illustrator over in the US called Scott Benson, featuring a quote from the late, great Carl Sagan…

Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known

'Somewhere' by Scott Benson

‘Somewhere’ by Scott Benson

See you in 2013!

An Inventory of the Invisible

11 Nov

When you come to think of it, so much of the important stuff in life is invisible. Time. Gravity. Thoughts. The human genome. Atoms. Energy. Electricity. The past. The future.

In this animated TEDTalk from 2009, comedy writer and TV producer John Lloyd gives a guided tour around everything that’s impossible to see. It’s well worth 9 minutes of your time, being as witty and stuffed full of quirky facts as you’d expect from the man who’s behind the endlessly brilliant TV show QI.

“We can see matter, but we can’t see what’s the matter.”

Frankenstein: the Birth of a Monster

30 Oct Birth of Frankenstein

When it comes to horror stories, Frankenstein is probably the most famous of them all. Mary Shelley’s gothic masterpiece has sent shivers of fear through generations of readers, inspired countless adaptations, and become the gold standard for tales of terror and suspense. It’s a story that becomes even more unsettling, though, when you realise it was inspired by twitching corpses, violent volcanoes and disturbing nightmares…

Mary Shelley’s famous novel barely needs an introduction. Its protagonist, Dr Victor Frankenstein, is fiction’s original ‘mad’ scientist, dedicating himself to chemistry at university so that he can learn how to create life out of inanimate matter. The being he cooks up, however, is repulsive:

“His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his hair was of a lustrous black and flowing; his teeth of pearly whiteness; but these luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, … his shrivelled complexion and straight black lips.”

Dr Frankenstein looks with horror upon his monster (credit: Theodore Von Holst’s frontispiece to the 1831 edition of Frankenstein)

Disgusted, Dr Frankenstein deserts his horrible creation – but the monster will come to haunt him for the rest of his life. First, it murders Frankenstein’s little brother; then, when the scientist refuses to create a female companion for it, it kills his closest friend and beloved wife too. Distraught, Frankenstein vows to take revenge and pursue his monster until one of them is dead. But the scientist fails in his mission and, after months of pursuit, he dies from pneumonia near the North Pole.

When Mary Shelley began to write her spine-chilling story, she was just 18 years old and without a novel to her name. So what inspired her nightmarish tale? In an introduction to the book’s third edition in 1831, Shelley finally explained how she “came to think of and to dilate upon such a hideous idea”. As it turns out, the true story behind Frankenstein is even more intriguing than the novel itself, involving electrified frogs, reanimated corpses, and a rather strange summer holiday…

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