The Alexandrian Greek mathematician Heron—whom we associate with the formula √{s(s − a)(s − b)(s − c)} for the area of a triangle—got involved in a calculation about a pyramid design which led to the evaluation of √(81 − 144). This occurs in his book Stereometria (C. A.D. 75) and to ‘solve’ it the numbers are turned round thus: √(144 − 81), to give √63 which is taken to be . (Is this a reasonable approximation for √63?) It is not known whether Heron made this transpositional error or whether a copier of his work was responsible. This seems to be the first occasion in which the square root of a negative number was stumbled across—a concept not properly understood for another 1750 years!

There is a very easy way to produce the Euler line, using transformational arguments. Given a triangle ABC, let AʹBʹ'C be the medial triangle, whose vertices are the midpoints of the sides. These two triangles are homothetic: they are similar and corresponding sides are parallel, and the centroid, G, is their centre of similitude. Alternatively, we say that AʹBʹC can be mapped to ABC by means of an enlargement, centre G, with scale factor –2.

The question of the convergence of the sequence defined recursively by

for a given complex value of c, and a fixed determination of the square root was posed by Ogilvy [3], and partial solutions have been given by Rohde [4] and Gerber [5].

I first came across these dials at the Old Ashmolean Museum when looking at astrolabes. Miss Kathleen Higgins, then writing a thesis on dials, asked if I could explain the operation of a dial described by Regiomontanus (1436-1476) of which several examples are shown in British and European museums. That was in 1950; since then I have repeatedly tried to evolve an explanation of some way in which dials of this kind may have been invented. Only recently have I been satisfied with my results.

Consideration of the special case in which the centre of the eccentric circle lies on the straight line whose points of intersection with the conic are required.

In what follows it will be convenient to abandon the system of lettering adopted by Boscovich which we have hitherto followed, and as far as possible to use that common to modern text books.

The following problem was proposed by Dormán Luke, Math. Gazette, Vol. XLI, p. 194 (1957):

Inscribe a regular octahedron in a cube, so that its vertices are one on each of six edges of the cube.

Four such octahedra can be inscribed; what is the solid with 32 faces which is common to these four?

Starting with the octahedron, how many cubes can we circumscribe to it in this way?

Again, what solid formed by their vertices encases them all?

The properties of linear, homogeneous, constant coefficient, second order recurrence relations such as

are well known. Consider however the recurrence relation

Such things are rarely studied; it may not be obvious that equation (2) generates a sequence which is periodic with period 9, which is to say that for any initial values x0, x1, the sequence x0, x1, x2, x3, … satisfies xn+9 = xn for every n. This article records some discoveries which resulted from an attempt to understand this interesting fact. These discoveries open up a field for exciting, elementary, but by no means trivial, investigations.

When one first comes across the formulae

one is immediately struck by the fact that the second sum is the square of the first. The usual methods of proof give no reason to expect that the sums will be related in such a pleasant and easily memorable way; one is left with the impression that this is a happy accident. The following proof may give some entertainment because it throws light on this point; it emerged unexpectedly out of the tortuous process of making up a question for a recent Scholarship examination.

Consider the problem of defining a continuous function f(x) which agrees with factorials at integers. There are many possible ways to do this. In fact, such a function can be constructed by taking any continuous definition of f(x) on [0,1] with f(0) = f(1) = 1 (such as f(x) = 1), and then extending the definition to all x > 1 by the formula f(x + 1) = (x + 1)f(x). This construction was discussed by David Fowler in [1] and [2]. For example, the choice f(x) = ½x(x − 1) + 1 results in a function that is differentiable everywhere, including at integers.

However, this approach had already been overtaken in 1729, when Euler obtained the conclusive solution to the problem by defining what we now call the gamma function. Among all the possible functions that reproduce factorials, this is the ‘right’ one, in the sense that it is the only one satisfying a certain smoothness condition which we will specify below. Admittedly, Euler didn't know this. It is known as the Bohr-Mollerup theorem, and was only proved nearly two centuries later.

First, a remark on notation: the notation Γ (x) for the gamma function, introduced by Legendre, is such that Γ (n) is actually (n − 1)! instead of n!. Though this might seem a little perverse, it does result in some formulae becoming slightly neater. Some writers, including Fowler, write x! for Γ (x + 1), and refer to this as the ‘factorial function’. However, the notation Γ (x) is very firmly entrenched, and I will adhere to it here.

Of all the changes that have taken place in the mathematical curriculum, both in schools and universities, nothing is more striking than the decline in the central role of geometry. Euclidean geometry, together with the allied subject of projective geometry, has been dethroned and in some places almost banished from the scene. While educational reform was certainly needed there is always the danger that the pendulum may swing too far the other way and that insufficient attention may be paid to geometry in its various forms. Much of the difficulty here centres round the elusive nature of the subject: What is geometry? I would like to examine this question in a very general way in the hope that this may clarify the educational reasons for teaching geometry, and for deciding what is appropriate material at different levels.