Siege

It's been a while since the last assault. You begin to think maybe it has gone away. But, if you listen carefully, you can still hear it moving around outside. You look out the window, and in the pale moonlight you see the trees swaying as it moves through them. A fingernail scratch on a blackboard shiver runs up your back. You instinctively fold your arms across your chest and give yourself a squeeze. There's a hollow howl as it rushes around the house. You know it's going to attack again. It's only a matter of time.

The windows in the dining room rattle. It's changed the direction of its assault again. You've heard it as it's moved around the house, probing, looking for that weak spot which will allow it access; the windows in the lounge, the kitchen, the main bedroom. It's shaken the back door numerous times. It's relentless. If there's a way in, it will find it.

And you know that, sooner or later, you're going to have to confront it. It's not something you like to contemplate - the very idea makes your blood run cold - but, you know it has to be done. Life must go on.

You replay the daily routine of your life. Breakfast, shower, dressing for work. All too soon, it seems, it's daylight, and you find yourself standing at the front door, mentally preparing for the onslaught when you open it. With a final shiver, you hunch your shoulders and step outside.

It comes at you in a rush. It's stronger than you anticipated, and it almost takes your breath away. It attacks your face. Your eyes are watering and closed to slits. You can feeling it tugging at your clothing, yanking at your hair. It's as if it's determined to prevent you reaching that sanctuary which is your car.

It's alive, malevolent, merciless. And it is oh, so cold.

It is the south wind.

London.

While ever there remains in this world people who are free to think for themselves, these cowards will continue to skulk in the shadows.

Let's ensure that is where they stay.

Tomah es tay. Eh hah tomoh tekay.

Okay, You Found It. Now Please Put It Back.

According to legend, Archimedes was taking a bath when he suddenly chanced upon the solution to a task he was set by the king. He was so excited by his discovery that he forgot his situation and ran naked through the streets of Syracuse, shouting "Eureka! Eureka! (I found it! I found it!)"

What he had actually discovered was what is now known as Archimedes Principle, a mathematical equation relating to mass and bouyancy.

Maybe it was a common thing, in the Third Century BC, for naked men to run through the city streets, yelling, but imagine if Archimedes had done that in today's society.

Think about it. One day, as you're going about your normal daily routine - doing the shopping, paying bills, minding your own business - some bloke comes running down the street naked, shouting "I found it! I found it!"

How would you react? Confronted with such a spectacle, you would inderstandably be quite stunned, right? Would you then look away, pretending you hadn't noticed him, hoping like hell he doesn't come up to you and force you to pay attention? Or would morbid fascination not allow you drag your eyes away? Like at an accident when you know you're going to see something ugly, but you've just got to look anyway.

Then comes the speculation. Just what is it the chap has supposed to have found? That which he is currently displaying to the world at large? And if that was the case, why is it he hasn't found it up until now? Also, making allowances for the current temperature, is the object of discovery really anything to get that excited about? And why does he think we might be interested?

I think it would be safe to say that ninety-nine percent of us would come to the conclusion that the bloke was under the influence of some kind of drug, illegal or otherwise. It would also be reasonable to assume that the authorities would soon show up and deal with the situation, taking the poor fellow away, and that would be the last we hear of it. One can only assume that he had been taken somewhere he wasn't a danger to himself, or to others.

There are probably a lot of secondary school maths students who wish that was exactly what happened to old Archimedes. It might have saved them from ever having to calculate the area of a circle.

But you do have to wonder, don't you? It has been said that genius is society's accepted face of insanity. But, just exactly how many of us today would recognise a naked man shouting about his principle as genius?