Carefree Conversations

Of late, I and my pub mates have grown tired of all the consistent doom and gloom so prevalent in today's media reports. So at last Thursday's get together at The Three Q's we all decided to explore the lighter side of things, and forbade any mention of ebola, ISIS, the wonder of Zimbabwean democracy or, closer to home, gas plants and the valiant and increasingly successful attempt of Ontario to emulate the financial position of Greece.

Present were John Digg, who farms the property next to my own, Alice Deptford, a truly adept economist, and Dr. Phillip Pratt, Head of the Philosophy Department at the University of Toronto, and simply a gem when it comes to an interesting conversation.

And an interesting conversation  was the aim of this evening's outing, along with the proviso that the topics should be of the light-hearted, even fluffy variety.

Once we were ensconced at our table, with pints ordered and fetched by Professor Pratt, Alice began by suggesting that some of the most interesting discussions she had ever had centered around those  things that had one meaning, but could be reached by any number of approaches, whether mathematical, metaphorical, logical or historical.

This seemed to be heading directly into obscurantism, so I asked Alice, "I think some examples might help."

"Second that," said John. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I think," replied Alice, "that I may have described the matter in overly complicated terms. All I meant was that a given topic always has many sides to it, all of them valid, and none of which takes away from its central meaning. So if we have an equation that states that ten plus three is equal to five plus eight, or nine plus four equals six plus seven, it doesn't matter to the end result, that is, thirteen.

"So what you're saying, Alice, is that regardless of the roads taken, providing that individual numbers one to twelve are used, the answer, thirteen, will always be correct."

"You have it. Now if you apply that thinking to the making of, say fettuccini alfredo, you will --- yes, Phillip?"

Dr. Pratt had been unusually quiet through all this, and one wondered just why. Or at least I did.

"There is," Pratt said, "one other aspect to your example. A rather interesting one, if I may be so bold. I note that one equation has not been brought forward for use as an example, to wit, "eleven plus two" is equal to "twelve plus one." Any reason for this, Alice?"

"Yeah. I didn't think of it. Why is this so of interest?"

"Look at the two sides of the equation. Note anything odd?"

Silence around the table until John Digg piped up, "Anagrams. 'Eleven plus two' is an anagram of 'twelve plus one.'" He sat back, took a good draught from his pint, and looked mighty pleased with himself.

"Puts the icing on your cake, Alice, does it not?" I put in.

"That it does. Now take fettuccini alfredo, forget about anagrams and pretend that ......."

And this is why I treasure these little get-togethers.