The World According To Damien
in a World gone mad – one sane voice emerges…

Damien on… One For Numerophiles

Incredibly, numerophile is not a recognised word, even though its antonym – numerophobe – IS (although you’ll be hard-stretched to find it in a dictionary). So its journey to recognition begins HERE…

Back in 2009, I purchased a nice digital clock (I even bought a second, to replace it when it conked out – which so far, it hasn’t).

In bright LED 7SDs (which dim between 22:00 and 07:00) it gives you the time (in 24-hour format) plus (with no unnecessary zeros) the day of the week (modern style, with Monday as day 1) then the day of the month and the month itself.

It even gives you the temperature (in degrees centigrade) accurately, thanks to its built-in thermocouple.

Meaning that once every seven years, it can show 22:22, 2, 2, 2, 22.

This is because, on average, the second of February only falls on a Tuesday that often (in fact; every six years, five years, six years and eleven years – the whole repeated every twenty-eight years).

And a few days ago, it did just that – although I had to crank up the aircon to make it happen.

The last time this occurred was shortly after I bought the clock, back in 2010. The previous time had been in 1999 – and the next will be in 2021. Then 2027. After which comes the eleven-year gap – so 2038.

But hopefully I’ll be DEAD by then (otherwise, I’ll be eighty-five – and no-one wants that – unless they’re eighty-four – and perhaps not even then).

Now this is actually a lot like those old cars, where the mileometer (another word only SOME dictionaries acknowledge) turns all of its digits from a row of nines to a row of zeros, every 100,000 miles (one wonders how many drivers have piled into the car in front whilst watching this phenomenon).

The thing is, when the long-awaited Magic Event takes place, the bonnet does not suddenly fly up and the wheels fall off (unless you’re driving a CLOWN car). While it may be fascinating for the driver, the vehicle is oblivious to it.

And likewise my clock; it did not issue smoke and rise majestically into the air, either this time or the last.

But it was still great to see 222222222 on the machine again – albeit for only a few seconds (at which point, the temperature drifted off).

However, I’m not a numerologist (the twits who believe numbers actually HAVE Magical Powers – THAT word is easy to find) so that was as far as it went.

Nevertheless, I’ll be there again in 2021!

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One Response to “Damien on… One For Numerophiles”

  1. My father (a coal merchant) had a mechanical adding machine with panels of numbers for inputting columns of pounds, shillings and pennies. I used to tap the keys until it said

    999999 19s 11-1/2d

    (obviously nobody would ever buy millions of quids’ worth of coal so you did not need another column of pounds).

    l used to press the halfpenny key and all the numbers would go whirrrrrrr flup flup flup flup flup flup flup flup until the machine believed that it was sayng one million. Actually, it was saying blank. In other words, the read-out panel read all zeroes. And I would be pleased at my own cleverness. I had worked out all by myself how to do it.

    I was easily pleased as a boy.

    I never had any girl friends.

    Until Margaret when we were 24.

    But she threw me out.

    Five times.

    If after five times you do not suceed, don’t bother to try again. That’s what I always say…

    I have no idea where Magaret is.

    They do not make adding machines like that anymore because we had decimalisation and computerisation in the 1970s. Today’s children neither know about, nor miss, any whirrrrrrr flup flup flup flup flup flup flup flup games on their space age cyber-tronic decimal pocket machines.


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