What? Writing an article about ourselves? What kind of nonsense is that? Gavin does not usually yell, nor was he doing so when I told him what kind of article I planned to write. Still, I got it past him, and the editorial board, so let's see if I can get it past you as well. You being the genuine Zimaths fan (another one of those rare commodities not listed on the Stock Exchange) who supposedly requires a feeling for the loving care and tender chaos that goes into each issue.
Here's what happens when Gavin (the Zimaths Editor) approaches our regular writers for articles:
``Erica, could we get your article on the chocolates by next Friday?''
``Certainly not! Why didn't you ask me before?''
``Because even if we
did, you'd only start working on it the night before..."
or more realistically, a week after the deadline.
``Dinoj, have you marked the answer scripts that have been sent in?"
``Marked? Moi? Well... kind of... there was this problem, see... I had to go to the toilet and there wasn't any loo paper in sight... so... you know..."
``Tawanda, when is your article on calculators coming in?''
``That's
hard to tell, either next year or the year after --- I need to find out
how many kids in Zimbabwe have Hewlett Packard machines that draw decent graphs.''
``What about normal scientifics?''
``Those
aren't calculators, they're advanced punching machines!''
``Eduard, how about making your proofs more readable?"
``Readable? But they are perfect! Nice, short, elegant, ..."
``...inunderstandable..."
``Gavin, where are the pictures you want drawn?"
``You're losing it Gavin, you're talking to yourself again."
Et cetera, et cetera.
And then the argument about what goes into the issue. The Editorial Board, bless its fossilised heart, is divided on this. Should we go for brilliantly educational articles which get unread by everyone? Or pander to the more journalistic style which dilutes much of the mathematics in a desperate effort to get more people reading it?
Uhoh. My chief psychologist has warned me that if I diss any other members of Zimaths, my life expectancy is going to be shortened. Instead, allow me to use my vocabulary of four-letter words --- ciao!
