In Rudolf Steiner’s lecture series ‘World Economy’ he speaks of those people who have no particular skill to offer the world. We live in a time when the manner in which humanity has evolved raises challenges to itself, and does so on account of widening perceptions. In and of itself, this brings people into situations that would never have been possible in the mediaeval cultures. This was a time when humans made everything they needed: and if you wanted a purple edging for your toga, you had to spend a substantial amount of money to obtain it. The edging might cost three to five times what the rest of the garment cost.
Note: this is about mathematics. It is not intended to tax you in the way school demanded of you.
We’re taught at school about the ratio of the diameter of a circle to its circumference. Roll a plate on its side and having marked a point on its perimeter, the length it travels by the time it reaches that point again is around 3.14; actually it’s a fraction more. But with a dinner plate of 30cms diameter the difference would be a little over half a millimetre. Not enough for any serious schoolchild to worry about. “A little over three” would suffice here.
The Difference Between Chicken In London And Budapest.
It was a long time ago, when a friend from uni was a little boy and was sent to stay with his grandparents in Hungary. This would be in the sixties, when the eastern part of the capital, Budapest, was still semi-rural. Laszlo – Les to his friends who couldn’t pronounce his name – wondered what the brown fluffy birds were that ran about the streets. He was told that they were chickens. Baffled at this, he asked why they didn’t have plastic wrappers.
There was a businessman whose factories and warehouses were busy and his lorries ran day and night. Few could equal his business acumen or his imaginative solutions to problems. His offices bustled with typists and telephone receptionists; his clerks had adding machines. Everything that in the early 1930s was up to date, modern.
Well, this is a fillet, bought at my local supermarket. So the kind producers of this delicacy added some water for its comfort. Obviously they are fish lovers, subscribers to the RSPCF (the Royal Society For the Protection of Cruelty to Fish, a fictional variant of the RSPCA which cares for animals.) There’s also a nice little absorbent pad for the fish to sit on.
Providing life’s little niceties is what supermarkets are all about, isn’t it?
It was on Saturday evening I was on my way to see my friend Hendrik, and I was at the station waiting for the train. It was a little before sunset, to my right there was the last of the sun. A series of bright orange streaks on the misty horizon. Looking the other way, I could see the silver skeins of the tracks disappear into the distance, along with the never ending progression of the catenary masts.