“Our next calendar year 2025 is a mathematical wonder,” informs Peter Bridgwood of Leichhardt:1) 2025,itself is a square,45 x 45= 2025.
2) it is also a product of two squares,9² x 5²= 2025.
3) it is also the sum of three squares,40²+ 20²+5²= 2025.
4) and remarkably it is also the sum of the cubes,ofall the single digits,from 1 to 9,1³ + 2³ + 3³ + 4³ + 5³ + 6³ + 7³ + 8³ + 9³= 2025.”
“Good grief,Monday,December 30,and no missives from Port Macquarie? Where have all the writers gone?” asks David Prest of Thrumster. “With apologies to Peter,Paul and Mary.”
“In 1960,while in Wagga Wagga for our intercollegiate rifle shoot,I was nominated as the designated (teetotal,aged 19) driver of a Humber Super Snipe,a large,luxury car,owned by a classmate’s mother,” writes Dave Williams of Port Macquarie. “It had four very similar and large pedals:from left to right,dip switch (C8),clutch,brake,accelerator. I frequently changed gear with the dip switch,and the gearbox strangely permitted this,noise-free.”
Heather Harman of Tuncurry knows not to mess with the kid:“While having breakfast,my nine-year-old grandson was told,‘You sound like a broken record!’ When asked if he knew what that meant,he said:‘Yes,it’s when someone runs faster than anyone has before.’ Out of the mouths of babes.”
For reasons that will become obvious,this post-Christmas missive will remain anonymous:“I normally write thank-you letters for Christmas gifts. But what is the protocol when the gift is the same item you gifted them a year or two ago? Do you pretend you haven’t noticed (and have them think they got away with something because you’re a gullible idiot)? Do you call them on it (and have them think you are an ungrateful sod because it’s a quality and reasonably expensive item)? Or do you embrace it,and turn it into a sort ofSisterhood of the Travelling Pants perpetual gift? Asking for a friend.”
We thought the poetry had ended with Putin (C8),but Granny reckons this one from Richard Stewart of Pearl Beach is bang-on:
It’s five days after Christmas.
And all down the street,
the red bins are out,
and gosh how they reek,
Prawn,lobster and oyster shells,
in 30 degrees heat,
Makes walking the dog,
not a task for the meek.
Column8@smh.com.au
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Include name,suburb and daytime phone.