The Soggy End of Science
Gravity Fields Science Festival draws to a close for another two years. Attended some wonderful events, talks and demonstrations, some over my head, some within my grasp, but all fascinating. I was excited to discover where Sir Isaac Newton carved his name in the old hall of the Kings School, centuries ago. His portrait hangs on the wall, as does that of another famous old boy: William Cecil, Lord Burghley, appointed Secretary of State and Lord High Treasurer by Queen Elizabeth I. (See Extra.)
Grantham has done another great job of putting together a fine festival. I do wish the science and maths bits of my brain worked better, but no-one can be good at everything. So instead I'll share a poem that I wrote some years ago. It did appear in a children's anthology and, offhand, I can't remember which one, but its being in print suggests I'm not alone.
THE SOGGY END OF SCIENCE
I’m sitting at the soggy end of science;
Can’t grasp how it works, but value each
I try to understand
But my brain is in defiance,
So I’m fumbling at the foggy end of science.
I’m stumbling at the sticky edge of science;
Though fascinating facts intrigue my mind
I’m not up with the intellectual giants,
I try to follow theories
But my brain shows no compliance,
So I’m tripping at the tricky edge of science.
(c) Celia Warren 2016