The Butterfly Effect

“Does the Flap of a Butterfly’s Wings in Brazil set off a Tornado in Texas?” – Edward Lorenz.

Yes, you are reading the right author and no, this hasn’t suddenly become a blog about science. 

However, this particular post is about chaos and in 1972, Edward Lorenz gave a paper on predictability to the American Association of the Advancement of Science which bore the above title.  The theory is that the flapping wing of the butterfly represents a small change in the initial condition of the air system, which then causes a chain of events leading to large-scale phenomena. Had the butterfly not flapped its wings, the trajectory of the system might have been vastly different and the chain of events wouldn't have happened.  

Here endeth the lesson.

Well, almost.  This can also be very accurately used to describe the law of karma, which, simplified, means cause and effect.  One of my own life philosophies is “What goes around comes around” and bearing this in mind I try to be kind, loving and do good things for people.  As a consequence I am surrounded by good friends, a loving family and I rarely dwell on the bad things that happen in my life.

One friend declared that I was the most optimistic person they had ever met and that if we were drilling for oil and had found nothing 15 miles down I’d be the one that said “Keep drilling”.

Personally, I prefer to think of myself as a realist rather than an optimist, but maybe my realistic beliefs seem optimistic to others.  After all, another friend christened me “Golden Balls” long before David Beckham had that title.  Let’s just say that realistically I’m an optimist and it’s not so much that the glass is half full but more that the glass is full, I’m drinking it and can I have another one please?

Anyway, onto chaos.  Anyone knowing me may think I am an expert on this subject, having been brought up in a house brilliantly described by yet another friend (I have so many!) as having “a general atmosphere of chaos” and also living with my beautiful partner D and her three daughters in a house that is just about as chaotic as it gets.  Throw my three kids into the equation however and it goes to a whole new level.

But even I wasn’t prepared for the situation I encountered a few years back whilst in the middle of the dating scene.

I recall there was one weekend that, on the face of it, had the potential to be legendary from a “Jack the Lad” perspective.  I was very active on the dating sites and it just so happened that I had been emailing several different people and had arranged to meet three of them (not all at once, obviously) but I had one lined up for the Friday night as a dinner date, a second for a lunchtime coffee on Saturday, and the third at a music bar in town on Sunday afternoon. 

On the Thursday, I telephoned my Friday date (we’ll call her Brenda) to ask about the arrangements.  This was the first time we had physically spoken and she was just leaving work.  The conversation went something like this.

“Hi there, is that Brenda?”

“Yeah, ‘ooisit?”

“Sorry?”

“I said who is it?  You ***kin’ deaf or wot?”

“Err… it’s M from the dating site, I’m just calling about tomorrow”

“OH ALLO!!!” <Turns away from phone> “Trace, Trace, it’s ‘im!  That bloke I was tellin’ ya ‘bout”

“I just wondered what restaurant you wanted to go to tomorrow”

“I dunno… McDonalds or Pizza Hut are ok”

“Err… I was thinking more Indian, Thai, Chinese, that sort of place?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah what?”

“Yeah.  Enya them.”

“Well, what do you prefer?”

“I don’ care, all tastes same to me, I don’ like nuffink too ‘ot tho.  ‘Ang on a minute.”   <Turns away again>   “Trace.  TRACE! For ****s sake will you get that ***kin’ key!  We’ve gotta lockup and get outta this ****hole”   <Comes back to phone>   “Sorry ‘bout that.  She’s the gil I work wiv. She’s so fik. Anyway gotta go, I’m lockin’ up, send me an email. Ta-ta.  Fanks for callin’.”  <Click>

This woman must have had a ghost writer.  None of her emails gave any clue as to the fact that she made Waynetta Slob from “Harry Enfield & Chums” sound educated and well spoken.  I certainly did email her, but only to (kindly) cancel the Friday date.

When I returned home I had a call from the Saturday lunchtime companion to say that someone she had seen a couple of times already wanted to make a go of it and so they were going to be exclusive; therefore the lunchtime date was off. 

It was at this point, feeling a bit peeved, that I received an email from someone else who I’d previously tried to contact but had not received a response.  That attempted contact turned out to be the “Butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil”.

This lady (Sam) had made it clear in her profile that her two children would have to come along on her first date which would ideally be breakfast in one of our many local café/restaurants overlooking the sea.  Well, my rules are my rules (see previous blog post "A toe in the water), so I emailed her back and asked if she fancied a breakfast date on the Sunday morning.  We agreed more of a “brunch” and she said she’d arrive at 11, which was perfect as I had to leave at 1 to get to the afternoon engagement.

So – I arrived at about 10:40 and secured a table for four.  There are about 10 of these small places all in a row along the sea front and as it was early summer, they get really busy.  Therefore the sight of a large table occupied by one person drinking tea caused a few angry glances to come my way whilst others waited, especially as the time ticked on to approach 11 and then past it.  My continuing defence of “They’ll be here any minute, I promise” was wearing ever thinner as calls to her mobile remained unanswered and the clocked ticked round to nearer 11:30.  I was just about to give up when I received an apologetic call saying they were just walking along and which one was I in?  My sigh of relief was audible to everyone as I stood up and looked out, signaling my whereabouts.

I believe what happened next can be described as the “Tornado in Texas”.

Sam and her two kids (aged four and seven) came in and she sat down beside me. After the exchange of pleasantries (or should I say pleasantry as it simply consisted of “Hi I’m Sam”) she then proceeded to talk AT me for quite some time without pausing for breath.  I got told the reason she was late (crashed out drunk on her sisters sofa after a too heavy Saturday night, and yes, she did drive to the date) plus every conceivable business problem she had ever encountered in her work which was so dull and boring I can’t even remember what it was but essentially whatever she made, China made more of it and cheaper.  Wow.  What a shocker.

Meanwhile, the two kids are whizzing around like a pair of Tasmanian Devils, grabbing plates, cups and cutlery off other diner’s tables and generally causing mayhem.  Their noise seemed to be unnoticed by Sam who dealt with it by simply speaking louder to make herself heard over the din.  The glances of annoyance I had earlier received from the waiting guests had now turned to stares of rage as they were all looking at me, expecting me to deal with it.

I noticed a gap of literally nano-seconds between sentences and I got in with “Shall we order?  I have to leave at 1 o’clock and the children look as though they may be hungry.” This theory was based entirely on the fact that Formula 1 cars are at their fastest when they are just about to run out of petrol.  I figured if we could get some fuel into them, at least they would have to come into the pits to receive it.

“Good idea” she said and then, without pausing for breath, called out to the waiter “Three full English’s and three teas please. Now, where was I?”

The waiter looked across at me and I mouthed “Make that four” as the second phase of the verbal assault started.

The kids continued to treat the place like a playground until the tea mercifully arrived very quickly. They then came to the table and sat down as Sam continued to vent.  The young four year old boy put two sachets of sugar in his tea before his sister said “Mum, he’s doing it again” and Sam said “Oy!  OY! No! No more sugar.”

“Aw, Mum!”

“Well, just that last one then.”

That happened four more times until he had reached his SEVENTH sachet before the food arrived, which was the only thing that stopped him.

“I imagine he’ll be lively later.” I said.

“Not my problem, he’s at my sisters this afternoon, she can deal with it.  Ha, ha, she won’t know what’s hit her.”

Nice, I thought.  And I somehow suspect that the Texan Tornado had developed into a full blown Tsunami by teatime.

I made my excuses, left and yes, I paid the bill.  Rules are rules.  But it won’t surprise anyone to learn that I didn’t pursue that relationship either and when I got back from the music bar date (which was also a dead loss) I emailed Sam to say that, as interesting as the morning had been, I had actually decided to be exclusive with the lady I’d been with that afternoon and so wished her good luck in the future.

Not as much luck as the next person who decided to meet her though.