Chapter 5: Trigonometry

..and the search for a husband

About six years ago I taught myself how to do trigonometry. I was working on a construction site, and decided I wanted to be a civil engineer (seemed easier than labouring).

For months I had made an effort to get to know my colleagues, the labourers, the slingers, electricians, tunnelers, scaffolders, the traffic marshals, truck drivers, the civil and mechanical engineers, the crane operators when they dropped in to move stuff, the drillers when they bought their massive equipment.

The project was to dig a tunnel under the Thames with the goal of finally fixing London‘s sewage problem (yes, there is one).

I paid special attention to what both the civil and mechanical engineers did on site. Occasionally when I went to different sites or the central control office I would meet trainee engineers, some of whom had worked on big projects abroad where they were responsible for building bridges.

In my last newsletter, The Art of Writing I wrote about building bridges through writing, with the hope of reversing the turning tide that was the Nationality and Borders Bill. What both civil engineering and campaigning have in common is that there is or should be something tangible at the end. I’m obsessed with making tangible outcomes. Things that last or can be built again from their foundations if need be. Because the foundation is strong.

Eventually a civil engineering apprenticeship came up that I could apply for. If I got it I would have to move to Leeds but before I could get it I needed to do a test. A trigonometry test.