Read Online May Contain Nuts by John O'Farrell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: John O'Farrell
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tut and shake his head in disappointed pity. My husband considered himself something of an intellectual. When he watched University Challenge or Mastermind , he usually got the answers wrong, but still took pride in the fact that his wrong answers were the same as the wrong answers given by the super-brainy contestants. This evening he would have no reason to feel smug. He would mark my paper and force himself to say, âWell done. A perfect score,â as he tried to remember why it was he felt a vague sense of disappointment. I finished the decimals and fractions and moved on to the next section.
âWhich are the next two numbers in this sequence: 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17 ⦠?â OK, I thought, not immediately obvious, but these things are always very straightforward â itâs just a question of working out a pattern. Now, let me see ⦠the numbers increase by one unit once, then by two units twice, ah yes, I see the pattern, now it will be increasing by three units, three times, will it? No, it wonât; damn. OK, there must be some other sequence ⦠I reread the question just to make sure I wasnât missing something obvious.
Ah, Iâve got it. If you add 2 and 3 you get the next number, 5. So if I add 3 and 5 I should get the next number, which is ⦠shit, itâs 7. They must mean 8, it must be a misprint ⦠Every time I tried to listen to my own quiet thoughts it was like there was a car alarm going off in another part of my head, and ten minutes later I was still staring at the numbers until eventually they blurred into dead meaningless shapes. Ugh, it is SO unfair, I sulked to myself, infuriated by being forced to endure extra maths homework like this. My headwas resting on my hand and my arm was slumped resentfully across the desk. I let out a long grumpy sigh. I ran my fingers through my hair and noticed a few flecks of dandruff fall onto the test paper. Dandruff, urgh, how long had I had dandruff ? There was none on my shoulders, but by vigorously scratching my scalp I was able to send a few more tiny specks of skin tumbling onto the exam paper. I adjusted the spotlight slightly to get a better look and tipped up the paper to pour the collection onto the desk. There were a couple of dark hairs in the mix and one that looked albino white. It wasnât enough that I was going grey, now the grey hairs were falling out as well. I was slowly turning into one of those old ladies with thin white hair and a shiny pink scalp clearly visible underneath. I might as well buy a tartan shopping trolley and fill it with half-price loaves of sliced white bread to empty out on the edge of the common for all the pigeons.
âYouâve had twenty minutes,â called David through the office door. âYou should be on section two by now!â
âThank you, darling!â I shouted, sticking two fingers up at the closed door. I quickly brushed away the fascinating detritus of my scalp and returned to the paper. I was miles behind. I was not even halfway through section one. I left the stupid number sequence question with the obvious misprint and moved on to some straightforward percentages. âIf Simon has 7 apples, Peter has 6 apples and Jennifer has 11, what percentage of the total number of apples does Peter have?â Easy. There are 24 apples altogether, and Peter has 6, so to get the percentage you just multiply that by 24 and divide by 100, which gives ⦠1.44 per cent. Hmm, that doesnât sound right. OK, it must be the other way round. It is 24 divided by 6, times 100, which gives you the answer ⦠400. Peter has 400 per cent of the 24 apples. This was serious now. I was going todo badly. I wasnât anxious about the test I would be sitting for Molly just yet â strangely, that felt too far away to worry about right now. It was Davidâs likely reaction to my failure this evening that I couldnât bear to contemplate. The prospect of him
âWhich are the next two numbers in this sequence: 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17 ⦠?â OK, I thought, not immediately obvious, but these things are always very straightforward â itâs just a question of working out a pattern. Now, let me see ⦠the numbers increase by one unit once, then by two units twice, ah yes, I see the pattern, now it will be increasing by three units, three times, will it? No, it wonât; damn. OK, there must be some other sequence ⦠I reread the question just to make sure I wasnât missing something obvious.
Ah, Iâve got it. If you add 2 and 3 you get the next number, 5. So if I add 3 and 5 I should get the next number, which is ⦠shit, itâs 7. They must mean 8, it must be a misprint ⦠Every time I tried to listen to my own quiet thoughts it was like there was a car alarm going off in another part of my head, and ten minutes later I was still staring at the numbers until eventually they blurred into dead meaningless shapes. Ugh, it is SO unfair, I sulked to myself, infuriated by being forced to endure extra maths homework like this. My headwas resting on my hand and my arm was slumped resentfully across the desk. I let out a long grumpy sigh. I ran my fingers through my hair and noticed a few flecks of dandruff fall onto the test paper. Dandruff, urgh, how long had I had dandruff ? There was none on my shoulders, but by vigorously scratching my scalp I was able to send a few more tiny specks of skin tumbling onto the exam paper. I adjusted the spotlight slightly to get a better look and tipped up the paper to pour the collection onto the desk. There were a couple of dark hairs in the mix and one that looked albino white. It wasnât enough that I was going grey, now the grey hairs were falling out as well. I was slowly turning into one of those old ladies with thin white hair and a shiny pink scalp clearly visible underneath. I might as well buy a tartan shopping trolley and fill it with half-price loaves of sliced white bread to empty out on the edge of the common for all the pigeons.
âYouâve had twenty minutes,â called David through the office door. âYou should be on section two by now!â
âThank you, darling!â I shouted, sticking two fingers up at the closed door. I quickly brushed away the fascinating detritus of my scalp and returned to the paper. I was miles behind. I was not even halfway through section one. I left the stupid number sequence question with the obvious misprint and moved on to some straightforward percentages. âIf Simon has 7 apples, Peter has 6 apples and Jennifer has 11, what percentage of the total number of apples does Peter have?â Easy. There are 24 apples altogether, and Peter has 6, so to get the percentage you just multiply that by 24 and divide by 100, which gives ⦠1.44 per cent. Hmm, that doesnât sound right. OK, it must be the other way round. It is 24 divided by 6, times 100, which gives you the answer ⦠400. Peter has 400 per cent of the 24 apples. This was serious now. I was going todo badly. I wasnât anxious about the test I would be sitting for Molly just yet â strangely, that felt too far away to worry about right now. It was Davidâs likely reaction to my failure this evening that I couldnât bear to contemplate. The prospect of him
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