Skip to main content

The jar of sweets game goes large

There's a popular game at fetes where you have to guess how many sweets there are in a jar. Making an estimate like this can be an enjoyable intellectual exercise. In a similar, but more complex, vein, the Cambridge entrance exams and the general exam sat by science students there used to feature fun little challenges. Two still stick in my head. One was A violin plays the A above middle C. Estimate the tension in the string. And the other: Estimate the distance from the North Pole to the Equator around a great circle.

Under exam conditions you just had to use your brain to achieve a result - challenging but fun. (Incidentally, although most people fiddled around with geometric calculations, the second one has a very quick way of coming to a surprisingly accurate answer. Solution at the bottom of the post.)

Now there's a blog dedicated to this kind of mental exercise - and it has a competition at the moment too. Run by Aaron Santos, the blog, A Diary of Numbers features challenges to work out everything from how much he would have reduce the size of the Earth to bring a day down to a second, to how many mirrors it would take to melt an aircraft carrier in a second (rather unnecessarily quick, I would have thought).

These types of calculation are often known as Fermi problems after Italian-American physicist Enrico Fermi, who was famous for his ability to make top-of-the-head estimates that turned out to be surprisingly close to reality. Really, though, they ought to be called Archimedes problems. This isn't just because that idea of melting an aircraft carrier is inspired by Archimedes' plan to use curved mirrors to focus sunlight to set Roman ships on fire. It's also because Archimedes wrote a whole book that addressed such a problem over 2,000 years ago - giving him something of a precedent over Fermi.

The book was called The Sand Reckoner, and in it Archimedes set out to work out the number of grains of sand it would take to fill the universe. I ought to say that by universe, he had in mind something around the size of the solar system - but still it was pretty big. Intriguingly, he worked out values for two universes - the conventional one with the Earth at the centre, and one based on a weird idea from someone called Aristarchus that had the Earth going around the Sun. This is the only reference we now have to this early heliocentric idea.

Archimedes wasn't just having fun, though. He wanted to show you could extend the number system as far as you needed - something rather essential, as at the time the biggest number was a myriad - 10,000. The result is a tour-de-force of Fermi thinking. You can find out more about it in my book A Brief History of Infinity.

Meanwhile, back at A Diary of Numbers, the competition is to win a copy of Aaron's book How Many Licks, and what you have to do is come up with the best estimate for the number of times Mario has been killed in the various computer games he features in. Go to the competition page to see more details and enter.

The trick to working out that distance is knowing how metric distances were first defined. A kilometre was defined as 1/10,000th of the distance from the North Pole to the Equator through Paris. So an immediate and pretty accurate estimate is 10,000 kilometres.

Comments

  1. I've always been puzzled by the so-called Lennon-McCartney Problem. That is, given 4,000 holes in Blackburn, Lancashire, how did they manage to work out how many holes you'd need to fill the Albert Hall?

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Why I hate opera

If I'm honest, the title of this post is an exaggeration to make a point. I don't really hate opera. There are a couple of operas - notably Monteverdi's Incoranazione di Poppea and Purcell's Dido & Aeneas - that I quite like. But what I do find truly sickening is the reverence with which opera is treated, as if it were some particularly great art form. Nowhere was this more obvious than in ITV's recent gut-wrenchingly awful series Pop Star to Opera Star , where the likes of Alan Tichmarsh treated the real opera singers as if they were fragile pieces on Antiques Roadshow, and the music as if it were a gift of the gods. In my opinion - and I know not everyone agrees - opera is: Mediocre music Melodramatic plots Amateurishly hammy acting A forced and unpleasant singing style Ridiculously over-supported by public funds I won't even bother to go into any detail on the plots and the acting - this is just self-evident. But the other aspects need some ex

Is 5x3 the same as 3x5?

The Internet has gone mildly bonkers over a child in America who was marked down in a test because when asked to work out 5x3 by repeated addition he/she used 5+5+5 instead of 3+3+3+3+3. Those who support the teacher say that 5x3 means 'five lots of 3' where the complainants say that 'times' is commutative (reversible) so the distinction is meaningless as 5x3 and 3x5 are indistinguishable. It's certainly true that not all mathematical operations are commutative. I think we are all comfortable that 5-3 is not the same as 3-5.  However. This not true of multiplication (of numbers). And so if there is to be any distinction, it has to be in the use of English to interpret the 'x' sign. Unfortunately, even here there is no logical way of coming up with a definitive answer. I suspect most primary school teachers would expands 'times' as 'lots of' as mentioned above. So we get 5 x 3 as '5 lots of 3'. Unfortunately that only wor

Which idiot came up with percentage-based gradient signs

Rant warning: the contents of this post could sound like something produced by UKIP. I wish to make it clear that I do not in any way support or endorse that political party. In fact it gives me the creeps. Once upon a time, the signs for a steep hill on British roads displayed the gradient in a simple, easy-to-understand form. If the hill went up, say, one yard for every three yards forward it said '1 in 3'. Then some bureaucrat came along and decided that it would be a good idea to state the slope as a percentage. So now the sign for (say) a 1 in 10 slope says 10% (I think). That 'I think' is because the percentage-based slope is so unnatural. There are two ways we conventionally measure slopes. Either on X/Y coordiates (as in 1 in 4) or using degrees - say at a 15° angle. We don't measure them in percentages. It's easy to visualize a 1 in 3 slope, or a 30 degree angle. Much less obvious what a 33.333 recurring percent slope is. And what's a 100% slope