Renault Laguna seen from above on a cold and frosty morning

St Stephen’s tower through trees, North Bath (photographed, at least, on a Friday–@ 15:30, Nov 28)

About a year ago I suggested I might post a fractal image each Friday. What was I thinking?

Well, a combination of guilty conscience about a commitment unkept and this sentence in Didier Sornette‘s cheerily entitled book Why Stock Markets Crash: Critical Events in Complex Financial Systems prompted me to revisit this partial promise:-

It turns out that many of the natural structures of the world are approximately fractal and that our aesthetic sense resonates with fractal forms.

Those who remember my misdirected concern about dangerous trees may appreciate that the oak has been safely pruned, and the only objects falling now are the autumn leaves and occasional acorn.

My recent routine interest in trees, and flora in general, seems closely correlated with a) the acquisition (for no financial outlay) of a Nokia N95 mobile phone containing a 5 megapixel digital camera and b) adherence to the paleo diet. The latter, you might think, is not seriously possible. But putting aside the confirmation bias, it has not been the only manifestation lately of a heightened sensitivity to fractal forms. Spooky.

More, if you can bear it, at my Flickr Photostream.

It had been my intention to take the blog on vacation with me to see what — in a very restrictive sense — ubiquitous computing might feel like. And to see whether a travelogue should ever form part of this miscellany. I bought a 3G dongle (not from a spam email…) and carried more digital and optical equipment than you can point a telescope at. The only things lacking were the skill to use it all and a guarantee of internet connection.

The immediate consequence of an absence of wireless reception beside the remote estuary where we perched for the duration of last week was that for the first little while there was not much to do but stand still. This was a good thing, but as the Knackered family has not stood still for well more than six months of rolling crisis, it was only natural that some of the tangled thoughts of grief found an opportunity to unwind and, for those few early days, occasionally overwhelm.

Road to Nancenoy

But the Cornish peninsula is nothing if not varied. And would a geographer pick an argument with me if I said it may be one of the most fractal landscapes on earth? — whether one is talking about the trees, the rugged coastline, the self-similarities of those flooded river-valley creeks, or the surf as the Gulf Stream makes landfall.

Kynance Cove

Within barely a few minutes’ drive the contrasts can be extraordinary. We’re quite happy with beaches out of season and in most weathers, and now — with the necessary neoprene — the option of body-boarding (and, someday soon, surfing) before supper presents itself.

Kynance Cove

In true amateur form, much of our expedition was inspired by reading Simon Barnes’ book, How to be a Bad Birdwatcher. And with a much diminished self-consciousness, this point-and-shoot ethos carried us through birdwatching itself, astronomy, body-boarding, rowing our own boat up the muddy creek (with paddles, thankfully), and much lower-maintenance-than-usual holiday gastronomy (pasties and fish pies from Gear Farm in St Martin).

Nancenoy

Serpentine rock at Kynance (on the Lizard peninsula)

Helford River

Stonechat

Photo credits: stonechat, Andrew Pescod; aerial view of Helford River, Google ;the rest, Knackered Hack

It’s a little uncanny, about an hour ago I did a Google Images search for romanescu, and then just a few minutes later, the Knackered Hackette opens a marketing email from the folks at Innocent — manufacturers of the smoothie drinks — with exactly the same idea. Talk about self-similar .

With all the discussion of Mandelbrot in Taleb’s book, I had the idea that we might post a fractal for your delight once a week. Perhaps we’d call it “Fractal Friday” — something to look forward to as we wind down for the weekend. Taleb suggests that fractal shapes are good to contemplate — they are restful in their variation, and may stimulate creativity (more on that soon). Our favourite in daily life has to be the vegetable romanescu, delivered from Riverford Farm in Devon, when in season.

Well, Innocent provides this link to a great site by John Walker with some wonderful images of a romanescu cauliflower/cabbage/broccoli (including the one above), and a more technical discussion of fractals than we are capable of.

In the Knackered House all brassicas go by the nickname “Roman Doctor”: somewhere I half-remember reading (this usually means I made it up) that the Romans did not need physicians because their diet was full of life-preserving cabbage. It does not matter whether it is true or not. In our self-experimenting home, unlike the Knackered Hack’s own childhood behaviour, the kids know not to argue when told to eat their greens.