By L.C Woods
In opposed to the Tide: An Autobiographical Account of a pro Outsider, Leslie Woods relates the attention-grabbing tale of his existence from fisherman's son in New Zealand to go of the Mathematical Institute on the college of Oxford. After beginning at a exchange institution, he received a scholarship to a college, then joined the RNZAF, and later grew to become a fighter pilot within the Pacific. Woods then received a Rhodes scholarship to Merton university in Oxford after WWII. Following numerous years of study in aerodynamics, he grew to become a professor of engineering on the collage of latest South Wales. He additionally had a fellowship with Oxford's Balliol collage and had a consultancy at Culham Laboratory the place he researched the idea of magnetically restricted scorching plasmas. In 1970, Woods grew to become a professor of plasma idea but grew to become disenchanted with the fusion strength undertaking, which he believes survived on exaggerated claims of progress.
Besides recounting his historical past, Woods explains why magnetic fusion has didn't be successful and descriptions the philosophy of technology to which he subscribes. He writes frankly approximately either his successes and screw ups and finishes with an account of his taking on gliding on the age of seventy four.
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Additional info for Against the Tide: An Autobiographical Account of a Professional Outsider
And forget explaining to the Brits. ’ ‘ “Many of the lorries were drays” strikes me as odd. A dray is, as far as I can see, identiﬁed as a cart and associated with being horse-drawn. ’ Two months before his death at the end of 1995, he wrote me a brave letter, warning me that the end of his life was near—his letter ended with: Doesn’t Dr Johnson say somewhere that there is nothing like the prospect of death [to] extraordinarily sharpen the focus of one’s mind? As in so many other respects he is wrong, I’m more woollyheaded, digressive, garrulous, and yet in some way focussed, than ever.
After a few weeks in a hilly suburb called Parnell that overlooked the railway yards, we moved to a house on the edge of a tidal basin at Panmure, about 12 miles south of the city. The basin is about half a mile long and a quarter of a mile wide and is connected to the Tamaki river by a narrow neck, about 30 yards across. At low tide the basin turns into exposed mud ﬂats with only a central water channel remaining, while at high tide there is about ten feet of water covering the mud. This was an ideal position for my father, for at the bottom of our garden there was a stone jetty where he could moor his launch.
After a minute or so I would swim underwater, back to the position where I had last been seen and then come up, pretending to have been down for two or three minutes. I gained a reputation for being a great underwater swimmer until I got caught. The local school used to hold its annual swimming festival in the basin oﬀ the beach. I gained my half-mile swimming certiﬁcate when I was ten, but could have continued swimming for another half mile. Sometimes I would stay in the water until after dark, swimming in the middle of the basin, until I would hear my mother’s anxious voice calling me home.