Sunday 18 March 2001
Cracking the code
I've just finished reading The Code Book by Simon Singh and enjoyed myself thoroughly. Its written with a clean, clear style, and reflects both the author's and the various 'code-breakers' enthusiasms in a most infectious way.
I've previously read about many of the codes and cracking thereof, most particularly the Enigma machines, the role of the people of Bletchley Park in WW2, and the British Secret Service. (Recommended Reading: Enigma, Robert Harris; A Man Called Intrepid, William Stephenson; Between Silk and Cyanide, Leo Marks)
Its totally fascinating stuff, honest, no matter how dry and teddibly stiff upper lip British some accounts seem to be. The cryptanalysts and 'the girls' listening in to the Germans and transcribing the codes were heroes, working under unbelievable pressure and racing the clock against the dogs of war and threatened Nazi invasion of Britain. Must have been a total hothouse of barely restrained lunacy.
What most intrigues me is how the majority of 'the girls' were from very upper class backgrounds (exclusive private schools, the Season, think Sloane Ranger). I wonder if that was a conscious employment policy? Perhaps because they were well educated, yet fairly thick and unquestioning nonetheless. The great teeth and legs and polished exterior may just possibly have been a factor too.
The men on the other hand were a bunch of loonies. Sure they were geniuses and highly educated, but in contrast to the girls they were a mixed bag - neurotic, weedy, exceedingly eccentric academics.
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I’m now onto ‘The Language of the Genes’ by Steve Jones, which is pretty simplistic but nice. And I am madly reading through Jessie’s archives, I’m totally hooked, and if she isn’t at the very top of your bookmarked OLJ lists, along with Jen, then you need help. I love those two. I've even been overcome with a desire to dye my hair pink. Please. I’ve spent the last year getting it back to its natural colour (after approximately 15 years of abuse) and I’m trying to grow it long again too. Its finally looking all happy and healthy and curly and bouncy. Dye it pink indeed. For the love of miscellaneous pagan gods. Sure I wanna move to New York or Boston. But I’m not doing the hair thing.
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I had a really great gym session this morning. I go about four times a week to do a programme of weights and floorwork, plus I do yoga and Pilates at home. All this has nothing, and I can’t stress this enough, nothing whatsoever to do with appearance or weight control. It has to do with wanting to be physically strong, not musclebound, but able to lift things and do tasks around the house without causing grievous bodily harm to self. It has to do with having a properly functioning, smooth running body, with power and resources to call on when the need arises.
Sure, with regular exercise comes more efficient metabolising of food intake, and often different food needs (as opposed to wants; broccoli vs. Snickers). So I can eat whatever I like, whenever I like, and I don’t gain weight. I don’t deprive myself of the Snickers; I just don’t always want them. I’m more likely to crave pasta with fresh tomato sauce and a big green salad than hot chips. I weigh only 4 kgs more than when I was 14 years old -–and that was pre-puberty & pre-gym, so weight is hardly an issue. Being strong, fit and powerful is the issue.
Then there’s the mental/psychological pluses; regular exercise encourages the release of endorphins, otherwise known as happy hormones or the body’s natural morphine. So you feel better about yourself from the inside out, not just in a superficial way. (Cue rendition of "I feel pretty, oh so pretty, I feel pretty, and witty and briiiight")
So yeah. It has been a bit of a production, finding the right balance in my programme, almost like cracking the code of my own body’s balance.
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After gym I headed into town for a little shopping … I was naughty and bought a couple of books (oh, okay, so it was three), plus I found the most perfect pair of black Ralph Lauren jeans, resisted the temptation of instant gratification, and put them on lay-by. And another little purchase which I can’t talk about here just yet, but which is Very Exciting Indeed.
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Today was also Day 8 of No Painkillers At All, so I am feeling very proud of myself. For me, today was a full day; a good session at the gym, trudging around town for ages, then coming home to cook good food, all without heavy duty painkillers. Although I did wake up with spasming neck muscles but managed to settle it down with heat and a little self massage, before heading to the gym which stretched out some of the kinks. Also somewhere in the day was a lovely long phone call to Sam which left me feeling all warm and fuzzy and languid. Sigh.
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