I quite enjoyed this article by Glyph. It pins down quite well what makes me somewhat concerned about the "autoformalisation" hype in the mathematics community. Mathematics has, up to now, considered all communication (beyond obvious cranks) to have some degree of good faith. The use of LLMs in mathematics have the potential to turn all of mathematics into an adversarial "find the flaw" game. I don't want to participate in an intellectual field like that.

I know I'm becoming a broken record in collecting anti-LLM articles and talking points, but it really is an article of faith for me.

My partner will be studying at the University of Canberra so I went on a little tour of their campus with her. There seems to be a mob of Kangaroos (is that the right collective noun?) that lives on the campus there. They are the grey Kangaroos that can be seen elsewhere in Canberra, but that doesn't stop the males from being intimidating both in size and musculature. I was also struck by how small the campus is in terms of buildings for the amount of space it occupies. A much smaller scale operation than the Australian National University seems to be.

NUNC scio vere, quia misit Dóminus Angelum suum: et erípuit me de manu Heródis, et de omni expectatióne plebis Iudæórum.

This morning at All Saints Ainslie I was the cantor for the morning mass, and with a soprano Cindy Chen (who was playing the organ for the other parts of the mass), we sang a 13th century English "gymel" piece, arranged by yours truly (I don't have a recording sadly):

Jesu Cristes milde moder stud biheld hire sone o rofe that he was ipined on.	Jesus Christ's mild mother stood and beheld her son on the rood that he was pinned on.
The son heng, the moder stud and biheld hire childes blud wu it of hise wundes ran.	The son hanged, the mother stood, and beheld her child's blood as it from his wounds ran.
Neue blisse he us broute that mankin so dere boute, and for us gaf is dere lif.	New blessings he to us brought, for mankind so dearly bought, and for us gave his dear life.
Glade and blithe thu us make, for thi swete sones sake, edi maiden blisful wif.	Glad and blythe thou us make, for thy sweet son's sake, noble maiden, blessed wife.
Quen of evene for thi blisse lithe al hure sorinesse and went hur yvel al into qud.	Queen of Heaven, for thy blessedness lightens all our sorrows and turns our evil all into good.
Bring hus, moder, to thi sonne, mak hus ever with him wone that hus boute wit this blud.	Bring us, mother, to thy son. Make us ever with him one, that he bought with this blood.
Amen.	Amen.

I returned to the church in the evening for Evensong. We sang Stainer's Hail, Gladdening Light as usual, as well as Phillip Moore's third service for the Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis. For anthem, we sang the first of Parry's Songs of Farewell, which we had previously performed at our recent concert: My soul there is a country

My soul, there is a country

Far beyond the stars,

Where stands a wingèd sentry

All skilful in the wars:

There, above noise and danger,

Sweet Peace sits crown'd with smiles,

And One born in a manger

Commands the beauteous files.

He is thy gracious Friend,

And—O my soul, awake!—

Did in pure love descend

To die here for thy sake.

If thou canst get but thither,

There grows the flower of Peace,

The Rose that cannot wither,

Thy fortress, and thy ease.

Leave then thy foolish ranges;

For none can thee secure

But One who never changes—

Thy God, thy life, thy cure.