Auntie Em's House of Cookies

An open apology to @Glinner...

2011-05-17T08:07:00.007Z

Well yesterday was a fun news cycle, wasn't it? What with Nadine Dorries deciding that young girls (only ever girls, apparently) are sexually abused because they just don't know how to say 'no'. *mouthretch*

And, it seems, that DSK appears to have past form but has been pandered to for years. One complainant's mother persuaded her not to press charges because DSK was a friend of the family and an important figure in French politics. *double mouth retch*

A triggery day indeed.

So my twitter feed was mainly full of Dorries rage as I bashed out retweet after retweet about the first story. I was feeling angry and heartsick and a little like I was turning into a cartoon screaming harpy.

Then I saw a tweet from the hugely talented Graham Linehan about the DSK story and I replied with a link to the Guardian piece (linked above) which he retweeted with outraged capslock.

Hard on the heels of my "I'm turning into a screaming harpy" moment, I worried that it looked like I assumed @Glinner was making the exact opposite point to the one he was making. So as I cleaned my teeth (always a great time to try to make yourself understood) I shot off two replies and a tweet:

And off I pop, merrily to bed.

I woke this morning to two replies from @Glinner:

Oh no. Oh no no no. Have I upset @Glinner? I replied saying " It's fine! I took it as one of those pub conversations full of vehement agreement & I appreciate your vehemence on this awful story."

To which @Glinner replied saying, "Yes but I wouldn't yell at someone in a pub either..."

At which point my heart sank. I'm so sorry, Graham. In the unlikely event that you ever read this I want to say that you seem like a thoroughly thoughtful and civilised person. I never thought you were shouting at me (despite the way I phrased it) and I'm sorry if yet another conversation with a random on Twitter has left you feeling a bit deflated with the state of the human race. Please never, ever, ever stop showing your outrage at outrageous things. And keep making the splendid telly.

Thank you.

Tina?

2010-07-21T19:38:00.003Z

Funny, sexy and apparently time-travelled back to 1925 to punk Life magazine...

2d to buy a plate of shin-beef, or more shepherds than Prince Esterhazy?

2010-04-06T13:02:00.005Z

Hansard, 1841, the Copy-right bill[1]. Mr Mucauley speaking:

"And a man is very little moved by the thought that in the year 2000 or 2100 somebody who claims through him will employ more shepherds than Prince Esterhazy, and will have the finest house and gallery of pictures at Victoria or Sydney.

"Now, this is the sort of boon which my hon. and learned Friend holds out to authors, Considered as a boon to them, it is a mere nullity; but, considered as an impost on the public, it is no nullity, but a very serious and fatal reality; I will take an example. Dr. Johnson died fifty-six years ago. If the law were what my hon. and learned Friend wishes to make it, somebody would now have the monopoly of Dr. Johnson's works. Who that somebody would be, it is impossible to say, but we may venture to guess. I guess, then, that it would have been some bookseller, who was the assign of another bookseller, who was the grandson of a third bookseller, who had bought the copyright from Black Frank, the Doctor's servant, in 1785 or 1786.

"Now, would the knowledge, that this copyright would exist in 1841, have been a source of gratification to Johnson? Would it have stimulated his exertions? Would it have once drawn him out of his bed before noon? Would it have once cheered him under a fit of the spleen? Would it have induced him to give us one more allegory, one more life of a poet, one more imitation of Juvenal? I firmly believe not. I firmly believe that a hundred years ago, when he was writing our debates for the Gentleman's Magazine, he would very much rather have had twopence to buy a plate of shin of beef at a cook's shop underground. Considered as a reward to him, the difference between a twenty years' term, and a sixty years' term of posthumous copyright, would have been nothing or next to nothing.

"But is the difference nothing to us? I can buy Rassselas for sixpence; I might have had to give five shillings for it. I can buy the Dictionary—the entire genuine Dictionary—for two guineas, perhaps for less; I might have had to give five or six guineas for it. Do I grudge this to a man like Dr. Johnson? Not at all. Show me that the prospect of this boon roused him to any vigorous effort, or sustained his spirits under depressing circumstances, and I am quite willing to pay the price of such an object, heavy as that price is. But what I do complain of is that my circumstances are to be worse, and Johnson's none the better, that I am to give five pounds for what to him was not worth a farthing.

"The principle of copyright is this. It is a tax on readers for the purpose of giving a bounty to writers. The tax is an exceedingly bad one; it is a tax on one of the most innocent and most salutary of human pleasures; and never let us forget that a tax on innocent pleasures is a premium on vicious pleasures. I admit, however, the necessity of giving a bounty to genius and learning. In order to give such a bounty, I willingly submit even to this severe and burdensome tax. Nay, I am ready to increase the tax if it can be shown that by so doing I should proportion ably increase the bounty. My complaint is, that my hon. and learned Friend doubles, triples, quadruples, the tax, and makes scarcely any perceptible addition to the bounty."

Plus ça change...

[1] The core proposal in this bill was the raising of the length of copyright from 28 to 60 years. In the EU, the term is currently "Life + 70 years" or "Creation +70 years." In the US it's "Life +70" or the shorter of "Publication +95/Creation +120."

Stand up for democracy - debate the bill

2010-03-17T12:33:00.003Z

Poor, long suffering Simon Hughes has got another letter from me (via the excellent http://www.writetothem.com). With footnotes. Sorry Simon, I am an academic after all...

Dear Simon Hughes,

First of all I would like to thank you for your continued hard work on behalf of your constituents. I would also like to express my sincere hope that you will request a debate of the Digital Economy Bill when it comes before the commons, rather than letting it go through in the wash-up.

The internet has become an essential tool for the majority British people, and society and the economy has benefited from this. The bill as it stands is deeply flawed, and will have a damaging effect on innovation, business, and people's ability to take part in civil society.

To take one example, many local businesses are at grave risk if this bill goes though. The cafes that offer free wifi on Bermondsey Street will suffer. Unlike large chains, who can afford to outsource their internet services to a large ISP, these cafes will face disconnection if a single customer is alleged to have misused their internet connection.

The small businesses that are the lifeblood of the area could find themselves without internet access, and with no recourse to an appeal, on the basis of a handful of (untested) allegations of copyright infringement. This would effectively put them out of business.

The bill is flawed in a number of ways, including, but not limited to, the following.

The bill assumes that the "bad guys" are easily traced, because there is one user to each internet connection which, if you consider the shared networks you probably use each day you will realise this is completely naive.

There is no provision for due process. Allegations of wrong doing need not be proven and the user will have no right of appeal. Web connections can be used without the owner's knowledge [1].

I also understand that there is an amendment to enable sites hosting copyright material to be taken down. This is a dreadful which emulates the DMCA in the US. The DCMA has had a chilling effect on the fair use of copyright material for the purposes of comment or criticism[2].

Secondly, just because a domain carries infringing material, it does not necessarily mean that the domain owner is the infringer. Websites are sometimes compromised. A recent BBC survey found that many UK university sites were, without the universities' knowledge, hosting sites that sell prescription drugs [3].

I am not excusing the infringement of intellectual property rights. As both an academic computer scientist and a freelance journalist I am aware of the need for creators of works of the mind to protect their livelihood. But there are existing avenues for redress when infringement takes place and this bill is an attempt to shift the costs of enforcement onto ISPs and individuals. At the same time it risks creating an unjust and unworkable set of laws that stifle small business, innovation, and participation in civil society.

I do hope you will press for a debate. The future of British competitiveness in the digital realm depends on it.

Yours sincerely,

Emma Byrne

[1] http://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/watchdog/2009/10/wifi_hot_spots_not_secure.html
[2] http://www.chillingeffects.org/
[3] http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/technology/8550219.stm

I'll let you know when he gets back to me - he's usually pretty quick. But then he, notoriously, works very hard.

Auntie Em is a Pushy Middle-Class Constituent

2009-11-20T14:35:00.005Z

My local MP, Mr Simon Hughes, will be recieving the following from me (thanks to the awesome Write To Them site.) Because this is going to lead to stupidity like this. (EDIT: I want to make it clear that Simon Hughes is not part of the problem! I'm writing because I'm hoping he will be part of the solution.)

I know I should have rung too. Blame my computer-scientist/academic introversion...

FOR THE ATTENTION OF:

Simon Hughes MP
North Southwark and Bermondsey

Friday 20 November 2009
Emma Byrne
XX XXXXXXXXXXXXX
London
SE1 XXX

Dear Simon Hughes,

I am writing to express my concern about several measures proposed in the Digital Economy Bill, particularly those that allow for secondary legislation to change the Copyright, Designs and Patents act.

These amendments would allow the secretary of state wide ranging powers to define new penalties without parliamentary scrutiny. They would also allow the secretary of state to hand over investigative powers to bodies such as record companies and film distributors, again with no parliamentary oversight. Such powers are exceedingly troubling, as parliamentary scrutiny is essential if legislation is to have any chance of being effective and proportionate.

I have no confidence in the business secretary's understanding of the domain he is seeking to legislate. This proposal comes hard on the heels of the unworkable "Three Strikes" proposal, that would compel ISPs to suspend accounts suspected of file-sharing. This proposal is unworkable on three counts:

It is unjust: the proposal assumes a one-to-one relationship between users and computers whereas in reality most internet connections are shared. This would lead to collective punishment, where a household, business or even a whole town[1] is disconnected from the internet.

It is unworkable: many wireless internet access points are only weakly secured. Illegal downloads may be carried out without the knowledge of the bill payer [2].

It is unenforceable: again, the relationship between users and computers is not one-to-one. A user whose internet access is suspended by one ISP is still free to access the internet via public hotspots, connections in their place of work or education, or pay-as-you-go mobile "dongles."

As an academic computer scientist I consider these proposals to be breathtakingly technologically naive. I hope I can count on you to subject these proposals to the scrutiny they so desperately require.

Yours sincerely,

Emma Byrne

[1] http://www.coshoctontribune.com/article/20091109/UPDATES01/91109015
[2] http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/technology/8305379.stm

"Welcome to Southwark. Fuck you."

2009-10-16T03:53:00.004Z

We just bought an ex local authority flat in the London borough of Southwark. This means that the local council are the freeholders and we are the leaseholders.

I know that dealing with councils can be a world of hurt, and that Southwark has a pretty awful reputation in this area, but I never expected the hell our first two weeks is turning into.

Things began well enough. A form from the council tax department on our first day addressed to the new owners. "Good," we thougt, "that saves a phonecall, even if there is a BOLD, CAPITALISED threat of legal action if tge form isn't returned in 21 days. A little heavy handed but heigh ho."

I've also spent the last few weeks chasing the repairs team to sort out the communal lighting, which needs a bulb changing. I finally got an answer today. It was about a completely different flat with a completely different problem, but hey, 10/10 for being able to send an email (eventually.)

what I didn't realise is how much *better* they are at sending lettters. Second class. In a postal strike. We arrived home tonight to find this cheery missive:

9th October 2009

Service Charges

I refer to the above matter and advise that there are substantial service charge arrears on the above-mentioned property.

Should we fail to hear from [you] within 7 days of the date of this letter [tomorrow. No, today now, fuck] the Council will commence forfeiture proceedings without further notice to you.

Yours faithfully

[peon]

Home Ownership Unit

Which is why I'm awake at 4am, trying to put visions of bailiffs and barristers and locksmiths (oh my) out of my head.

"PS Welcome to Southwark. Fuck you."

[UPDATE] David has been to the council offices this morning to deal with this in his extremely reasonable middle-class way*.

The ex-owner has now cleared his arrears. However, because Southwark Home Ownership Department haven't received information from another department (the department of pointlessly holding shit up?), we don't officially live there yet as far as they are concerned. So they can't write to tell us that the account is clear, or tell us what our service charges will be.

*headdesk*

* "I am trying to solve this with you on a person-to-person basis in an entirely reasonable way. If that fails I will, entirely reasonably, consult your management. If that fails, I will, still in an entirely reasonable manner , consult whatever ombudsmans** are relevant to the matter in hand. After that option is exhausted, I will then, in an entirely reasonable and fair way, put the matter in the hands of my lawyers."

**Ombudsmen? Only the truly middle class know - upstarts like me give ourselves away by mispronouncing these shibboleths.

Auntie Em gets vertigo:

2009-09-18T07:23:00.002Z

David has just taken delivery of a 1TB drive at work. We wondered how long it would take to read a TB disk full of (uncompressed ascii) text. Here are our back-of-the-envelope calculations:

1TB =
10^12 bytes =
8 * 10^12 bits =
1.14 * 10 ^12 characters [1] =
1.9 * 10^11 words [2] =
950,000,000 minutes[3] =
1,806.22 years [4]

[1] Assume 7 bits per ascii character (using the basic subset of 128 7 bit characters)
[2] Assume an average of 6 characters per word
[3] Assume a 200 wpm reading speed
[4] That's reading 24*7*364.25 But give yourself an 18 minute break to account for the accumulated leap seconds

As of May '09, the US Library of Congress has accumulated 100 TB of data. I'm assuming that's not all ascii text though

Just had my mind blown...

2009-09-03T09:29:00.008Z

by this passage in Numbers are associated with different types of spatial information depending on the task van Dijck, Gevers and Fiasa

"When patients neglecting the left side of perceptual space bisect physical lines, they typically shift the subjective midpoint towards the right. Similarly, when indicating the midpoint of a numerical interval (e.g. what is in the middle between 1 and 9?) they overestimate the midpoint (e.g. 7)."

(Emphasis mine!)

Time to get me another doctorate:

2009-08-10T12:02:00.005Z

From the Southern Evangelical Seminary this time!

This is the D.Min. course. You have four things to do: (1) take the final exam (worth 30% of your grade); (2) write a 1,500- to 2,000-word critical review of Francis Collins’s The Language of God -- for instructions, see below (20% of your grade); (3) write a 3,000-word essay on the theological significance of intelligent design (worth 30% of your grade); (4) develop a Sunday-school lesson plan based on the book Understanding Intelligent Design (worth 20% of your grade)

.

Wow - no research, no critical thinking and no pesky originality needed. With a coursework submission date of August 14th I could be a double doctor by September I'm sure. If I could just fight down my gag reflex long enough!

UPDATE: tee hee - it gets better. From the takehome exam:

This exam is open-book, but you must limit yourself to the six books read in class.

Excuse me - I think I just threw up a little in my mouth.

Snitchtown Photo Essay

2009-07-16T10:05:00.001Z

Snitchtown

Fun with Digital Projectors

2009-07-08T09:38:00.002Z

I first saw this video of Peter Greenaway's projection onto Da Vinci's "Last Supper" about a year ago. I'm still astounded by it every time I see it:

Then today I saw this projection by Apparati Effimeri on the side of the Malatestiana castle in Cesena, Italy. Have a look at 2'15" and 3'30". Pink Floyd video much?

"So obviously far from any known terrorism profile"

2009-07-06T16:14:00.006Z

Lord Carlile's otherwise encouraging review of the anti-terrorism laws contains one rather odd finding.

According to the Guardian

"The latest police figures show that 117,278 people were stopped under section 44 in 2007-08, of whom 73,967 were white, 20,768 were Asian and 15,218 black."

Lord Carlile points to these stop and search statistics as evidence that some people are being pulled over to 'balance the books.'

"I have evidence of cases where the person stopped is so obviously far from any known terrorism profile that, realistically, there is not the slightest possibility of him/her being a terrorist, and no other feature to justify the stop."

He describes his own experience of stop ans search "sinister" and "intimidating" and told Radio 4's Today Program:

"I'm a grey-to-brown-haired white male, I'm 5ft 10 ins tall, looking extremely conventional."

Neil Lewington is another chap that fits that description. On the 29th of June he was arrested on an unrelated matter (abusing a train conductor) and turned out to be carrying "viable, improvised incendiary devices," to target "non-British" people.

The police are now warning that the is an increased threat of right wing bombings after "England’s largest seizure of a suspected terrorist arsenal since the IRA mainland bombings of the early 1990s."

Lord Carlile's position, stop and search is ok as long as it is targeted at those who "look like" terrorists, is nonsense on the face of it: you can't tell by looking who the terrorists are. One of them might well be a "grey-to-brown-haired white male... 5ft 10 ins tall, looking extremely conventional."

Protest is not a criminal offence...

2009-06-29T11:19:00.004Z

...official.

'The report describes the policing of the G20 protests as a "remarkably successful operation"... "Aside from a few high-profile incidents, the policing of the G20 protests passed without drama," say the MPs.'

I'm sure they went on to add that the 1930s were a "remarkably peaceful decade. Aside from one high-profile incident, the decade passed without drama."

Oh frabjous day!

2009-06-29T07:23:00.001Z

Someone I greatly admire really likes something I did.

All artsy-caftsy like...

2009-06-28T15:36:00.003Z

I finally finished my SoFoBoMo book. I decided to take the text of Cory Doctorow's essay Snitchtown, which, as with all of his work, is released under a creative commons license.

The SoFoBoMo website limits me to a 15MB upload, and the compression algorithm in Preview squashes the file rather brutally from 44MB to <1MB, so I'm also sharing the larger version here.

All the photos are available under an attribution, non-commercial, sharealike licence here.

For my next trick, I plan a new embroidery project. Keep in mind the fact that the last embroidery I did was my counted cross-stitch "buggy BASIC" sampler for the UCL CS panto. This time I plan to stretch myself a little.

For a long time I have been in awe of the drawings of neurons Santiago Ramón y Cajal, painter, gymnast, blower-up of shit and neuroscientist. See, for example, this observation of a Purkinje cell from a cat:

"Kitteh can has new-ron..."

The thought of trying to do this as counted cross stitch makes my toes curl, so I spent a coupla hours yesterday making myself a transfer with a hot-iron transfer pen.

I ended up with one good transfer on canvas. I also have one ok-ish spare that I'll happily give to anyone else at the intersection of the sets "textile nerds" and "neuroscience nerds"[1]. See here for details.

[1] This makes the rather bold assumption that this set is not a singleton...

Someone at the Telegraph is an illiterate moron

2009-06-23T13:56:00.003Z

University of Leicester Press Office:

"Promiscuous men more likely to rape"

Daily Telegraph:

"Women who dress provocatively more likely to be raped, claim scientists"

Women who drink alcohol, wear short skirts and are outgoing are more likely to be raped, claim scientists at the University of Leicester.

And yes. It's the same study. Nice gender-reassignment job in the headline there.

Full disclosure: I met Richard Alleyne during my fellowship at the FT. He was intelligent, friendly and supportive of the fellows. I remember him confirming the advice that a story should always lead with the "what the fuck?" Bizarrely, he seems to save the "what the fuck" until the end:

Using a sliding scale of sexual coercion from one to 27 where one was being allowed to enter the women's house to 27 being rape, they assessed how far men would go before "calling it a night".

Many men admitted they would go to within a point of rape before realising the girl was not interested in sex.

As a result, I'm really hoping that the egregious slant in this piece is the result of an editor's butchery. Because seriously. Yuck.

Oh yeah - and the sub-editor that wrote the sub-headline? Lying shithead. Let's review:

Daily Telegraph:

"Women who drink alcohol, wear short skirts and are outgoing are more likely to be raped, claim scientists at the University of Leicester."

University of Leicester:

"Alcohol, however, had the opposite effect than predicted, with participants more likely to coerce women who were sober rather than drunk."

Yup. Never let the truth get in the way of a good story, Telegraph. Well. Fucking. Done.

Offences, Criminal and Disciplinary

2009-06-22T09:15:00.004Z

Imagine wanting to publicly criticise the government (tricky I know...). Now imagine being told that you couldn't do so unless you consented to be photographed and videoed whilst doing so. Imagine too that the people carrying out this overt and intimidating surveillance took steps to conceal their identities. Imagine further that, when asked to identify themselves, the photographer's associates grabbed your throat, tied your arms behind your back and wrestled you to the floor before locking you up for four days.

West Yorkshire police officers, carrying out "Forward Intelligence" at a climate change demonstration did exactly this to Val Swain and Emily Apple on the 8th of August last year. What is more, they videoed themselves doing so. The two women locked up for four days before being released without any charge. Now the Guardian has the FIT's own video of the incident and serious questions are being asked[1].

The officers in charge may wish to refer to the annual review of anti-terrorism legislation recently completed by Lord Carlile QC, whose [PDF] report said:

"It should be emphasised that photography of the police by the media or amateurs remains as legitimate as before, unless the photograph is likely to be of use to a terrorist. This is a high bar. It is inexcusable for police officers ever to use this provision to interfere with the rights of individuals to take photographs...

"Police officers who use force or threaten force in this context run the real risk of being prosecuted themselves for one or more of several possible criminal and disciplinary offences."

Quite.

[1] Unfortunately they're being asked of the Independent [sic] Police Complaints Commission. The same IPCC that, in conjunction with the City of London Police, issued a series of "move along now, nothing to see here" press releases anout the death of Ian Tomlinson after an assault by a policeman.

The same IPCC that had to do a reverse ferret over whether or not there was CCTV footage of that policeman assaulting Ian Tomlinson shortly before he died.

The same IPCC that tried to put and end to the Guardian's investigation of that same event by complaining that the paper was "doorstepping" Mr Tomlinson's family.

"The deputy editor-in-chief who met him declined and pointed out that the Tomlinson family at that moment were in another part of the building, talking to Paul Lewis, the reporter who had driven the story, and publicly thanking the paper for its help." (Nick Davies, The Guardian, 27 April 2009.

The investigation into Ian Tomlinson's death is now being lead by the IPCC.

Art is theft

2009-06-18T11:55:00.002Z

And there are plenty of photographers leaving their cookies on the windowsill to cool[1].

The Guardian has a series, My Best Shot which showcases photographers' favourite works, accompanied by a short article about how the photo was taken.

I love Thomas Joshua Cooper's picture. It joyously breaks the rule about using an object to give some sense of scale. I can hardly tell if this is a crystal under a microscope or a mountain seen from a helicopter. The ambiguity makes me tingle.

Likewise the PhotoSynthesis blog showcases some of the best science photography on ScienceBlogs, with a different scientist curating each month. April was the turn of molecular entomologist and keen photographer Alex Wild. These photographs document some previously unseen behaviour: flies mugging ants for their food. And there are some stunning images in this essay on the dangers of anthropomorphism in science photography.

[1] This crap metaphor courtesy of high octane dental painkillers. Sorry...

Magic Fountains, Barcelona.

2009-06-04T12:31:00.001Z

I don't care if it is cheesy. The son et lumière at the Montjuïc Park Fountains made me very happy indeed.

Barcelona Champions League Victory.

2009-06-03T11:36:00.003Z

We were staying in a hotel just behind the Placa Catalunya and to managed to experience the joy of the final achievement of Barcelona's historic "Triplete" (winning the domestic league, the cup and the Champion's League).

It's the most wonderful time of the year!

2009-05-15T14:00:00.002Z

No, not Eurovision, though equally baffling and capable of inducing eyestrain. The VSS annual meeting, and the Neural Correlate Society release the results of the Best Visual Illusion contest. Enjoy!

Robot Scientist meets the press

2009-04-02T11:58:00.010Z

I am writing this at lunchtime on Thursday but can't post 'til midnight because of the embargo (ah Clive, how well you trained me!). The Robot Scientist paper comes out on the Science website tomorrow, and in the journal soon after.

My former colleagues at Aberystwyth have been busy giving interviews and being filmed/photographed for the last couple of days. There's a science wire service I'm still subscribed to after the BSA Media Fellowship and I'm really excited, because they've just put out the first comment I've seen from someone not on the team!

I can't wait to see the coverage tomorrow. I have no idea how well the story will be treated - but I did suggest a headline for the press briefing paper: "Robot Scientist beats humans to new knowledge" so I hope that angle gets covered, rather than robots to put scientists on dole/cure cancer/kill everyone with GM yeast.

Using AI, knowledge about the domain and a lot of lab automation kit the Robot Scientist managed to discover (for itself) the previously unknown function of 12 genes in brewer's yeast. The robot starts with some knowledge about the yeast metabolism and is allowed to design experiments on yeast with genes knocked out. It uses what it learns from those experiments to design another set of experiments, then another, until it finally figures out what the gene does.

With more than 6,000 interesting genes in yeast alone, that would take humans years: the robot can run 24/7 (in theory) and run thousands of experiments in parallel. If the robot just did those experiments combinatorially, that would still take more years than we're likely to have left on this planet - so the AI for hypothesis generation and experiment planning really comes in handy!

The paper.

UPDATE: My favourite writeup is this from Clive Cookson at the FT. It's sober, well informed and distills what the work really achieved. I'm defnitely buying a copy of the pink 'un today!

One of the best writeups so far, from the land down under: Sydney Morning Herald

MSNBC also has a pretty good take on it.

Auntie Beeb has done a good job too.

And my personal favourite writeup from a blogger.

The G20 Climate Camp

2009-04-01T18:14:00.006Z

After following the G20 news on Twitter most of the day I decided to stop off in the city to check out the Climate Camp.

It was a peaceful, relaxed and cheery affair. There was a heavy and visible police presence, though they were largely good humoured. One or two even consented to be hugged by some of the protesters. I'm sure I even saw one smile.

It was heartening to see charities, churches, trade unions and other random people come together for the cause of getting climate change back on the agenda.

St Ethelburger's in the City, in the middle of the climate camp, shows its support

Just outside the riot police were massing:

It seems they were just waiting for the working day to be over, and interested bystanders and lightweight participants like me to have left the area. Twitter is abuzz with news that what was an entirely peaceful and well-run camp, with tents, a compost loo, a commissary and a medical station has been overrun by the riot police in a little under a few minutes.

*sigh*

I should have known that violence-junkies like this never go disappointed:

Update:

I underestimated the resolve of the campers. They have refused to be provoked, and through the twin powers of peaceful resistance amd samba music they are holding firm for now. Wish them luck.

Florida Stone Crabs: An apology

2009-03-27T07:49:00.004Z

I travel on my stomach: I've never been to a country without learning how to ask for something I've never eaten before[1]. On my recent trip to the US I tried the local delicacy[2]: the Florida stone crab claws.

They were delicious. I must have looked like a slavering monster wrenching the all-too-easily identifiable limbs to pieces before devouring them (sharing a table with a vegetarian always alerts my to my deficiencies in both moral and actual fibre.) It never occurred to me to ask what they did with the rest of the crab.

Watching QI the other night, I found out. Apparently the stone crab can lose its claws and they grow back: a feature that stone crab fishers exploit. Apparently it is recommended that they leave the crab with one claw so it can defend itself against anything that wants to eat the rest of it (how thoughtful!)

This made me feel worse than if my crab had been rapidly dispatched and popped in a pot: some poor maimed crustacean was shuffling around the Florida seabed whilst I nommed its no-longer-appended-appendage.

I now feel even worse: research by Queen's University Belfast has found that the stone crab's hermity brethren can feel and remember pain. Which means that there's a good chance my poor claw donor saw the net coming and thought, "Oh no. Not again." Only in crab, obviously.

Florida stone crabs: I'm sorry. I hope the claws are growing back nicely. If you'd like me to come and open some oysters for you, I'd be happy to help. It's probably no comfort but you were delicious.

[1] Most surprisingly delicious thing I've had - stuffed pigeon in Egypt. Most amazing street food: brik in Tunisia.

[2] yes, they have them. Stop sniggering my judgemental European friends.

Auntie Em gets a stylist?

2009-03-25T13:14:00.004Z

I used to have a good hairdresser (Scottish Ruth, with the broken central heating, where did you go?) but in the three years since I last saw her I have had maybe two haircuts that I've liked. Now, OK, I only get my hair cut every two months (rather than the magazine-mandated six weeks) but that's still approximately 16 hair cuts to which the response was "oh well... it'll grow out."

I was bemoaning this to friends who have very good hair a few weeks ago and one of them advised me to get a stylist. I balked at this because, living in London, a stylist to me is someone takes 10% of your month's salary to do what the hell they want to your head. Because obviously they're far better placed to know what you want than you do: they're stylists goddammit. And they're all based in these scary salons that make me feel like that bit where Julia Roberts goes shopping in Pretty Woman, but without the warm glow of self-esteem that apparently comes from having borrowed a rich punter's credit card.

Eight weeks have rolled by since the last trim and it's time for a haircut. I've decided I'm bored of growing it: I've been trying to look professional and sober in a premature gesture towards possibly becoming a lecturer, and really it doesn't suit me at all (the hair and, possibly, the career plan.)

I know the style I want - I accidentally got it by some fluke a few years back but have lost the sole photo of it. It's best described as "messy" but that doesn't seem to be enough to go on. Google image search wasn't helping: one more picture of Reese Witherspoon with her artfully tousled frikkin red-carpet locks will kill me. I have a life, not a personal hairdresser. These are not the follicles we're looking for.

In a flash of inspiration, I realised that I was looking in the wrong place for my hair. The style I have in mind doesn't live on top of a Reese or a Drew or a (shudder) Paris. It lives on top of a Satoko or a Satomi. I finally found the hair I want on a jRock site. Please promise you won't laugh:

(Yes, I know, that's not a real person.) It took some finding. Google image searches for "Cute Japanese woman hair" without at least moderate safe search on should not be tried except in the most liberal of workplaces!

But who do I trust to transform my serviceable but dull bob into something Tokyo stylee?

Well, I work in Hendon, North London, home to a sizable Japanese diaspora. There's an Asian hairdressers on the opposite side of the dual carriageway from my tube stop. So, braving rain and underpasses, and rehearsing last night's freshly learnt Japanese grammar under my breath ("watashi no kami koto dekimasu ka?" Is my hair possible? Can you cut my hair?) just in case [1], I took a deep breath and went into a new hairdressers. I even, instead of just making an appointment, asked if I could have a consultation first (oh brave new world!)

Tan - who is from Malaysia and speaks perfect English (to my disappointment - all that practicing for nothing), sat me down and did that "wafting the hair about through his fingers" bit that I (used to) believe was purely to establish the "me hairdresser, you client" dynamic. But no - he told me why that style wouldn't work with my hair and how to change it so the bits that I like would work with my hair.

So I go back on Friday for a two hour appointment. For which I am being charged the princely sum of 25 quid. (For overseas readers (and other non Londoners), that's probably as cheap a haircut I've had in London since I moved here.)

I'm not promising photos - unless it goes really well - but watch this space. Auntie Em may yet have a good hair day!

[1] There's a Sushi restaurant next door where Japanese is pretty much exclusively spoken. I long for the day when my Japanese is good enough to use in there. Free conversation practice!

Ada Lovelace day 2009

2009-03-24T12:43:00.006Z

My heroine of science: Maggie Aderin, for her extremely cool work, and her desire to tell the world about it.

I first saw Maggie Aderin on one of Adam Hart-Davis' programmes (a quick Google tells me it was "The Cosmos, a Beginners' Guide") and I was blown away, not just by her knowledge and eloquence, but by the passion she was prepared to show for her subject.

It's an open secret in UK science that public engagement is often seen (at best) as a distraction from "real work." At worst, it is written off as a substitute for being any good at your job. And yet here was a practicing scientist that was prepared to be as ebullient as Adam Hart-Davis: professional enthusiast.

Dr Aderin's CV proves that public engagement and scientific achievement go hand in hand. She has a doctorate from Imperial College and has been a Senior Project Manager at Sira, Managing Director of Science Innovation Ltd and a space scientist at Astrium Ltd, the European Space Company.

Maggie Aderin is my heroine for Ada Lovelace day 2009 for her commitment, not just to her own research, but to the next generation of scientists. As a member of the same generation, I'm happy to have her as a role model too. Happy Ada-day Maggie.

See the full list of Ada Day posts here.

facepalm

2009-03-18T16:30:00.005Z

Or "light up the Doctorow-signal"

So the great firewall of Australia was an epic fail. Now the Oz government wants to go after the links instead.

Yup - Aussies linking to "banned" sites are being threatened with massive fines ($11,000 AUS per day).

Now I'm as rabid as the next reader of the British tabloid press when it comes to wanting to flay the people making and hosting images of child abuse. Slowly. From the feet up. But this isn't what the watch list is about. Or at least, that's never what it stays about for long:

"[Wikileaks] has also published Thailand's Internet censorship list and noted that, in both the Thai and Danish cases, the scope of the blacklist had been rapidly expanded from child porn to other material including political discussions."

Asher Moses, Sydney Morning Herald, March 17th 2009.

The first Aussie site to be threatened with a fine was a discussion board. Why? Because one of the posts had a link to an anti-abortion website. The next big target was Wikileaks - added to the "do not link" list because it hosts "a leaked document containing Denmark's list of banned websites."

Does the Australian Communications and Media Authority (ACMA) have no idea how the Internet works? I bet that within six clicks from your favourite auntie's blog you could be at most of the sites on the Internet that would make you wish you could claw your own eyeballs out (including, but not limited to, Conservapedia.) Whether I want to be or not, I'm part of the big network of pointers that makes the web work.

If ACMA doesn't realise that this plan is unworkable then that's some breathtaking incompetence on the part of a body whose whole reason for being is to understand communications networks. If the ACMA dosn't care that the plan is unworkable then they are using bullying tactics to achieve something that they know could never be achieved through legislation and the courts.

Macaques teach their babies how to floss

2009-03-12T12:03:00.006Z

PLoS ONE, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

Where else can you read about research as diverse as the discovery of self-medicating behaviour in caterpillars and the differences in brain activity when telling apart reality from fiction (I'm going to read that one properly and write it up on the serious blog, which has not been updated in ages.) What is more, PLoS articles are FREE - to anyone with an internet connection - no matter whether you're in a university or a web cafe, whether you're in Cambridge or Cairo. Hurray for open access.

And hurray for good dental hygiene. A collaboration between researchers at Kyoto and Ubon Rajathanee Universities studied monkeys that live around the Buddhist shrine of Prang Sam Yot in Thailand. They found that the macaques had learnt to use human hair as dental floss. Not only that, monkey-mothers repeated the "flossing gestures" significantly more often when observed by their monkey-babies than when not.

The length of the flossing episode didn't vary between the infant present/not present conditions. The authors therefore argue that the change in behaviour doesn't result from the mother being distracted by the presence of her infant. Rather the increased repetition of the flossing gestures (reinserting the hair and repeatedly "snapping" the teeth) is intended to demonstrate how flossing is done.

Doesn't it make you proud to be a primate?

Spring on my balcony:

2009-03-05T18:13:00.001Z

I get worms

2009-03-03T16:37:00.005Z

Living with the world's most ridiculous balcony (26 foot by 9 inches) makes gardening a challenge. Last year I found the answer to my composting needs at least: vermiculture or "worm composting". It nicely combines composting with the joys of pet ownership.

I bought a nice, dual tray wooden bin from Southwark council. It was made from reclaimed wood, by a project to provide training to homeless people. It also eats tofu and reads the Guardian.

Sadly my worms didn't make it through the sub-zero temperatures we had over winter so I'm having to restock. I've just bought myself a couple of hands-full of Dendrobaena Venita to get started again.

Last year they ate their way through all of our vegetable scraps, several torn up newspapers, umpteen crushed egg shells and the contents of the hooverbag, leaving behind a box full of fantastically rich compost. There is no smell, and the worms are photophobes so as long as the lid is closed at night they don't escape.

I'll be using the castings to propagate another batch of the pleasingly prolific "Tumbling Tom" that I grew last year. Whilst the dwarf squash and courgettes were lovely they have too much desire to spread themselves about so I'll be sticking mainly to salad greens, herbs and tomatoes. I may try some pea canes again too. And of course this year we have an olive and a lemon to take care of too.

Perhaps Green Butterfingers would swap some worm castings now for an aubergine later this summer?

Update: I just got email: my worms are now in a parcel winging their way via recorded delivery. Let's hope there's no repeat of last year when the box broke in transit and the parcel sat at the reception desk all day. Thank goodness for the timidity of worms.

Martini Garden

2009-02-25T08:58:00.010Z

It was one of those ideas that seemed to emerge from the collective mind, rather like the "blackboard dining table" we made: David's aunt bought us a small olive bush for Christmas. That's nice, we said, but where's the rest of the Martini?

All we needed was a lemon tree, a juniper bush, some assorted herbs and spices and we'd be set.

Unfortunately we live in a flat with the world's most useless balcony: 26' long but only 12" wide. The garden remains conceptual, unless we manage to find a central London flat with a more generous patch of outdoor space.

It turns out, however, that wedding anniversary number four is "fruits and flowers." After a lot of (metaphorical) digging I managed to find a lemon tree that is dwarf in habit but will actually fruit in the UK. I was skeptical on this last point, but when the tree was delivered it did indeed have some fruits still on from last year's growth:

Cheesy pseudo-tinted (or pseud-y cheesy-tinted) photo.

So happy anniversary to David: here's the next installment of the Martini Garden, and to many more years of joy. At least we can season our own drinks, even if we can't make them from scratch!

An open letter to Lady Greenfield.

2009-02-24T12:40:00.005Z

You're supposed to be a neuroscientist. That means you can't just go around asserting things.

Yours sincerely,

Frustrated of London.

P.S. "Perhaps the next generation will define themselves by the responses of others." Really? How shockingly novel. I molded my personality in a social vacuum.

News Tweet

2009-02-21T10:42:00.004Z

I knew that Twitter was the first source of images of the Hudson River Landing (go Sully!). What I hadn't realised was how many news outlets now have a breaking news twitter feed of their own. Here are some edited highlights:

The main BBC news op has a breaking news only feed, with headlines and links to the stories on the BBC site. Currently runs at about 3 posts a day.

Also from the BBC, my morning listening, the Today Programme has a tweet-feed. They seem to post a handful of tweets a day, not all of breaking news. Some are trails for upcoming packages, others are links to Today Programme material on the BBC website.

The full list of BBC feeds can be found here.

Reuters is for serious news junkies only. Updates every couple of hours or so.

The Australian Broadcasting Corporation has a very busy breaking news feed too, with updates around hourly. They also cover some fantastic UK news stories - like this one: Drunk British soldier crashes tanks. (Note the plural of tank. Support out troops, because they're too drunk to stand up by themselves.)

The FT has a finance news feed that seems updated roughly hourly until the desk closes around midnight. They also have a tech news feed which is frequently but irregularly updated.

CNN has a feed for breaking news only, that seems to be updated no more than once or twice a day.

NPR have a feed that covers breaking news, trails for programs, discussions with users and, at the last glance, an apology to the Internet at large for describing Unix as "a system computers use to define time," (See replies around 7.58pm Feb 13th - Eek!)

I'm not sure which, if any, of these I'll follow. I think I still prefer pull rather than push news. What I really want is a twitter feed filter/aggregator that will allow me to see tweets from these feeds only when they are relevant to my interests. Or about drunken tank-thieves.

Spring is here, spring is here [1]

2009-02-19T10:38:00.003Z

A few weeks ago my balcony boxes looked like this:

A few days ago they looked like this:

Hooray.

I must start propagating my edible stuff for this summer. Nothing too big as we may still be moving flat sometime and I don't think I can transport my 4' wigwams of peas very easily. And I must sort out a seed swap with Green Butterfingers.

[1] "Life is skittles and life is beer":

(Sorry David - the annual bout of singing is about to begin!)

The Dress Code:

2009-02-18T13:18:00.019Z

Or "Why do academics dress as if they're attending a blind man's funeral?" [1]

I was recently talking to a fellow post-industrial academic about the parlous sartorial state of many of our colleagues. This discussion took place at conference that, in places, was a sad little symphony in beige and polo-shirt.

On the strength of my visits to international conferences, the US academic uniform seems to sit more on the side of "business casual" (shudder) than in the UK. However, in the UK there's a definite split between the old and new universities: old universities preferring the worn, the stained and the 100 years out of date, newer universities favouring the US-style smart casual. Both seem designed to say "my mind is on higher things": in the case of the old universities it's the writings of Thomas Aquinas or the finer points of Brane cosmology. In the new, it's about being "student centred," "professional" or (horror of horrors) "replicating the corporate environment".

In my current post, I'm surrounded by "Biz Cas" (described by Corporate Apparel Blog as "The rebellious younger sibling of traditional corporate attire" - *snarf*).

Business Casual by thenickster

It's quite tempting to adopt protective camouflage - but I bounce between a new university (my post) and a self consciously old university (hereafter SOU) for a number of ongoing collaborations. I'd need the powers of of the mimic octopus to blend in, even if I wanted to. At work it's notable if someone's not in business casual, in the SOU I am still getting stick for the one time I showed up to a meeting in a dress. I should point out that the dress was more like this:

than this:

What's a girl to do?

I first faced this dilemma in industry and it can be best illustrated using the characters of the (much underrated, honestly!) IT Crowd. I had just come from running my own business, so started out by dressing pretty much like corporate droid Jen. I was never comfortable dressing this way, and my closest colleagues all dressed rather more like Moss or Roy.

(Parenthetically - I wasn't actually using the IT Crowd as my "Vogue" or "In Style" I promise - Graham Linehan was still making Father Ted and Black Books at this point!)

I had a number of problems in finding a style I liked:

I couldn't quite carry off dressing as one of the boys as one look at my outline would be enough to convince anyone that I'm not one of the boys.
At the time I hated my height - I didn't wear high-heels until my mid-to-late twenties as I couldn't stand the constant feeling of looming over people. I'm over that now, though I still try to radiate a non-threatening vibe.
The internet did not have half so many cool t-shirt stores as it does now. ThinkGeek shipped overseas (just) by then but boy was that expensive.

Sometime in the last few years I've settled on wearing jeans worn with "stylish yet affordable boots" (thank you Whedon for that meme!) plus a jacket with a t-shirt or sweater underneath. The jeans and boots emphasise the fact that I could step over a farm gate without a run-up. They also ensure that, in a department in which most of the women are in admin roles, I don't look like an administrator. And they say "I still act as if I'm at SOU. I may go back there sometime. Treat me accordingly. (Give me good research time!)"

The jackets say "I am making some attempt with my appearance - I am wearing at least one item that requires advanced garment-care techniques." (For those not in the know, advanced garment care includes dry-cleaning or, indeed, ironing as far as I'm concerned [2]). Plus they're great at playing down my more distracting features.

By which of course I mean the t-shirts... honest. The t-shirts are neither more nor less than a portable (literally) shibboleth. A visual "handshake" that works across a room. If you know why I'm wearing a t-shirt with an old blue police box and some statuary angels on then there's a good chance you and I will be friends.

Despite the occasional day in a dress, what I wear still feels a bit like a uniform, and is no less of a badge of belonging than business casual or "antiquated slob". But at least it's not camouflage: it's closer to aposematism if anything [3]. And it looks a heck of a lot better on me than beige slacks and a pastel-coloured polo shirt, doesn't it?

[1] Actual question from a dear friend's husband. My momentary outrage died when I considered some of my colleagues. Not the one with the excellent collection of hats. Nor the one with the shirt with the very subtle cannabis sativa pattern. Nor, indeed, the one that's just been in Esquire. But most of the others.

[2] I read recently that there is a word in Japanese that translates to something like "Sweater Girl" or "Cardigan Woman" which means a woman that is too busy with her career to iron. I now can't find the source of this information, so I have no idea what this word was or even if it is apocrypha. Shame - 'cause it suits me down to the ground!

[3] Thanks to David for introducing me to the word "aposematic". For years I've wanted a word that meant "opposite of camouflage" or "the animal equivalent of Doctor Marten boots and a mohawk".

O-Ba-MA!

2008-11-05T04:31:00.001Z

Here it's onlt 8.30 in the evening and it's all over (bar the landslide). I've never seen a race decided this early. It feels like 1997 all over again (but early).

McCain has made his concession speech and we're still waiting on Obama. I don't think anyone expected this to happen this early.

David and I helped get out the vote today - the excitement was palpable then. Now it's through the roof.

Auntie Em Joins the Fourth Estate - final week

2008-09-22T09:11:00.003Z

Last week I learnt that it is very difficult to get a science story in the papers, particularly in the FT, when western capitalism as we know it is in meltdown.

It's a shame, cause I had a really nice piece on some solar paving slabs ready to go. Heigh ho.

I did get 800 words on hydrogen in an energy supplement and Clive let me have the weekly science briefing again.

Everybody else, on the other hand, has been incredibly busy. The buzz here last week was amazing - I heard so many snatches of conversation on stairwells and in the canteen that only made it into the news hours or even days later. It felt like being very close to the coal face.

What Reiss said

2008-09-15T15:28:00.003Z

A separate post on this as the pillorying of self described "evangelist for evolution" Professor Michael Reiss seems to have made it out as far as the USA.

He did not say creationism should be "taught" in any sense. He said that biology teachers should be better able to deal with it when pupils (almost inevitably) raise it as the world view that their parents have instilled in them.

I was in the telephone press conference on the night before Reiss's talk. I didn't see the debate and I didn't join the face to face briefing he had. However, from my recollection of the telephone briefing (which I didn't tape or take notes on, unfortunately) he made it quite clear that he isn't advocating the teaching of creationism in the sense of "Suggesting that non-science/anti-science concepts should be specified as a course objective in science classes."

He stressed in the press conference that he's coming from this from the point of view of an ex biology teacher and, he stressed, definitely not a creationist.

Teachers have very little time to devote to the teaching of evolution, thanks to the nature of the UK science curriculum. Often, when that lesson is reached, biologists find themselves not teaching biology so much as engaging in theological wranglings with students that hold creationist views.

As Reiss said in his briefing notes: "The implication of this is that the most a science teacher can normally hope to achieve is to ensure that students with creationist beliefs understand the scientific position. In the short term, this scientific world view is unlikely to supplant a creationist one... A student who believes in creationism has a non-scientific way of seeing the world, and one very rarely changes one's world view as a result of a 50-minute lesson, however well taught."

He made it very clear that he is advocating that teachers should not feel the need to to "correct" the views of children who, for many and complex reasons,are not about to give up this world view as a result of a 50 minute lesson. Rather the teachers should use the time more usefully to make sure that the students get a real understanding of what the theory of evolution is.

He went on to say: "depending on the comfort of the teacher in dealing with such issues and the make-up of the student body... if questions or issues about creationism and intelligent design arise during science lessons they can be used to illustrate a number of aspects of how science works."

Prof. Reiss was simply saying that it would be helpful if biology teachers had a better answer than "No - you're wrong" when children raise creationism. Compare the FT article, with the Guardian one. Heck, even with that little word "about" the Daily Mail has managed a more accurate take on Prof. Reiss's position. The Telegraph article also sounds like it came from the same press conference I attended, even if the headline doesn't.

Auntie Em Joins the Fourth Estate - week two round up

2008-09-15T15:11:00.003Z

Last week went by incredibly quickly, with days starting early and the nights going on until late. Here are a few of my things I learnt:

The press briefings varied dramatically along two axes: the novel vs. the not so novel science; and the articulate vs. the not so articulate scientists. The nadir probably came at the briefing in which one of the speakers took a journalist to task for using the word “level” in the way that 99% of the population would understand it, rather than in the more technical way that the speaker would use it. The journalists may not be subject experts but they are experts in communicating with that 99% of the population that you will never reach.

The journalists from all the major news outlets were sharing the press room and the buzz was fantastic. I’m struck by the high levels of knowledge and intelligence on display from each of the news outlets. If you gave me a transcript of the questions asked by the journalists from all the major newspapers (plus the BBC) I wouldn’t be able to tell you which journo asked which question. It’s only when you get back in the press room that the differences between the outlets becomes apparent. I heard one writer, from a paper that will remain nameless, saying “can you get me a picture of a crying child.” There’s an outside chance he was kidding.

The differences are sometimes “non-trivial”. As with the two very different ways that the words of Michael Reiss were reported:

Creationism and intelligent design should be taught in school science lessons, according to a leading expert in science education.

Teachers should be open to discussing creationism in biology lessons.

I missed the debate but was lucky enough to be in on the telephone press conference (which I'm pretty sure Randerson missed) in which Prof. Reiss gave his views. He was quite deliberately refusing to use the word “teach.” So whilst the second opener lacks some of the punch of the first, it hasn’t caused a (largely undeserved) shit storm.

Most of the journalists are incredibly generous. In such a competitive (and shrinking) sector as science journalism, I didn’t expect to find so many people prepared to share their advice and experience.

You can’t live on free canapés.

Auntie Em goes to Liverpool

2008-09-09T15:42:00.005Z

Press room - BA Festival of Science, Liverpool. Tuesday PM

To say that I'm finding it hectic here would be like saying that the Titanic found icebergs a little inconvenient. Each day begins (painfully early) with a series of press briefings. Each afternoon is spent writing these up to file by 3p.m. The rest of the afternoon is spent preparing for the next day's briefings. The evenings are spent at receptions with open bars. Tonight I dine courtesy of the Diamond Light Source.

The deadlines are even shorter than back in the office, and every day so far has seen me have two pieces on the go. I've started to slip back into academese once or twice, because (ironically) I'm just not getting the time to read newspapers. I read Clive's article from yesterday to remind myself what I aspire to.

I schedule a one-to-one with the president of the Royal Statistical Society this afternoon. He is generous with his time, with a presentation a matter of an hour or so away. The meeting isn't until 2 and I have to file at 3 so the article is 80% written with some spaces for quotes. Clive suggests some extra things to find out and away I go to my first interview.

I can hear the click striking for the end of another day. The rain keeps falling - the Atlantic ocean is trying to claim Liverpool from above. The press officers order taxis to take us to tonights drinks. When, in academia, would such frivolity be allowed, for the sake of an adverse climate? I could get used to this.

Auntie Em Joins the Fourth Estate (End of week one)

2008-09-05T18:11:00.005Z

10a.m., Science Media Centre, Albermarle St

I'm attending a briefing on organ donation. A group of experts believes that the plans to change to an "opt out" law are based faulty reasoning as well as being ethically questionable. I go along a sceptic and come away with serious food for thought. I listen and learn as the experienced reporters lob questions at the end.

Afternoon, FT Headquarters

Back at the office I try to pitch the transplant story to the UK news editor as a long-ish policy piece but space is, as ever, short and there is nothing that makes the story particularly timely so I'm given 400 words to get the main ideas across. I run to 800 and have to cut back significantly. With Clive's help I end up filing 590 words - 190 words over my brief. It's the first time I've overfiled. Is this end-of-the-week lack of discipline or a measure of how strongly the arguments have shaken my view. Either way it's not my decision, it's the editors and it's my job to write to the brief, not to what I wish the brief was.

I pick up a copy of the UK edition in order to clip my science briefing. A weekly column of about 500 words, and Clive has let me write it myself (with his good guidance). It pales into insignificance next to his piece on the LHC. I'm a long way from writing as cogently.

Clive helps me file three stories for Monday - one UK science, one world science and the transplant piece. I'm not sure which, if any, will make it but watching Clive make deft changes is an education in itself. I learn how to cut an ugly sentence full of numbers, and how to make the introductory sentence pithier. I wish I could bottle what I'm learning now.

Amano Cafe 4.30p.m.

With everything filed I leave the office to read some briefings for the next week. I've also had an offer for a story that Clive is interested in. I ring my source and clarify the scheduling. I advise him not to launch anything next week as a) most of the science journalists will be in Liverpool for the BA science festival and b) both the LHC and GOCE are launching on Wednesday next week.

I share what I know about the rhythms of science news: like the days on of the week which the major journals' embargoes expire and the days that are easier to fill. It feels strange to be giving advice to someone who in every other respect is more intelligent, more experienced and much more knowledgeable than I am. It's nice to share.

Tomorrow I head for Liverpool for a week of festival goodness.

Auntie Em Joins the Fourth Estate - part four

2008-09-03T21:23:00.003Z

Wednesday, 9a.m., Amano Cafe, London Bridge

David and I check the paper over breakfast in a cafe. It's there, my first piece in print. It's a nice feeling, seeing it in black and pink. I let Nigel at the BA know that the last of his media fellows for this year has finally got her wings.

Wednesday, FT Headquarters

I finish the Friday briefing, having chosen, with Clive's guidance, three stories that I think go well together: one serious and worthy, one serious and "wow"-y and one fluffy (or feathery) animal story. I decide to leave it until tomorrow to submit just in case something even more interesting comes up.

Clive submits my long piece for the upcoming special supplement - it was the first piece I started writing, way back on Monday. It seems a lifetime ago now. The piece goes off before I can tinker any more.

I see a piece on the wires that looks very FT. It's international, so would have to be pitched to the world editor. And it's coming out on Monday, which means it will be jostling for space with pieces from the BA Festival. I decide to do 350 words on spec and see how it goes.

In the afternoon, Clive introduces me to Jan Dalley, the arts editor. He leaves me to pitch an arts piece that I really want to write. I have prepared well for this, but I'm surprised at the conviction with which I speak - anyone would think I knew what I was doing. Jan agrees to the piece and finds me some potential space in a Saturday edition coming up. I allow myself a discrete fist pump on the stairs and hope that no-one saw my Tim Henman impression.

The afternoon is spent finishing a piece on some lovely research that has reconstructed the sound of an epigonion, an ancient Greek instrument, lost since antiquity. I listen to the recordings of it playing Dufay and Monteverdi while I write the piece. It's an amazing feeling, hearing something very few people alive have yet to hear.

I file the epigonion piece, tinker some more with Friday's briefing and leave at a very civilised time.

Thursday, 9.30 am, Bakerloo line. En route to the BA Festival Press Launch

I set out in very good time, having seen that my epigonion piece has made it online at least. Things go downhill from there. The homing pigeon takes over and I leave the Bakerloo line two stops early, as if I were going to my real job. I have to wait five minutes for another Bakerloo line. When I get to South Kensington station I find that the same homing pigeon instinct has deserted me. I now can't find the Dana centre. I realise I'm at the wrong end of the wrong street when I reach the V&A. When I arrive Sir David King, the president of the BA, has already begun his briefing. A bad start.

The press conference is very interesting but I find myself wanting to ask research related questions rather than interesting news questions. It's hard to switch off that way of thinking. We pick up A4 sheets describing all the events for the coming week. They fill a carrier bag.

A taxi-ride later

Back at the office, Clive helps me sell my on-spec piece to the world editor who is working Sunday for Monday. I have an extra 100 words to play with. We also discuss the pieces that will be written for the UK pages from the festival press conferences today. I'm given 400 words, and a specific angle that's of interest to the FT readership, for that.

I file Friday's briefing, nothing will come up that I could add in time now. I finish my extra 100 words for the world story and start jotting the outline for my 400 words. It's time for lunch.

Auntie Em Joins the Fourth Estate - part three

2008-09-02T21:33:00.005Z

Day 2: The Financial Times headquarters. 10a.m. - editorial meeting, in which we learn about the HST.

The morning editorial meeting: Lionel Barber goes through the previous day's paper with the editorial staff, discussion what worked, what didn't and what there should have been more of. I learnt that stories which pass the HST[1] should definitely be in the paper. I also learnt that there is a very long list of FT offices around the world that can be reached via video-conference equipment built into the conference table that looks like the bridge of a very stylish Starship Enterprise.

I was given a tour of the building by Patrice, one of the editorial assistants. The operation is much larger than I'd expected, with staff to fill the UK, online, USA, Europe, Asia, Middle East, Weekend and special editions.

11.30a.m. Birds do it, Bees do it, Traders on the LSE do it.

Clive has my first assignment for the daily edition. It's about a study on that most fundamental preoccupation: sex. I email my go-to sex researcher for a quote, along with the author of a related study from earlier last year. I get excellent quotes from both of them.

Getting quotes from the author of the study, on the other hand, is more difficult. He's out of the office and has apparently got the impression that neither he nor his co-authors can speak to anyone (including journalists) until the embargo. Unfortunately there's more information I need before I can write the story: a graph appears to be mis-described in the uncorrected proof of the paper I've been given and I want to check that the problem is just with the label and not the data.

I call the media relations person at the journal who is helpfulness personified. I mention the difficulty I'm having getting the information that I need and she tells me she will contact the author directly and get back to me. I get the impression that this is not the first time she's had this conversation.

3.30p.m. Filing time

I've finished the piece, working on the assumption that it is only the label that is wrong. Clive shows me how to submit via the Méthode system. I watch as it disappears from my folder and lands in the UK News feed. A few minutes later I see the UK News editor open it and start making some changes.

Moments later still an email arrives from the author of the study, confirming that the mistake is in the label and thanking me for finding it before the article is released. I'm happy to have helped, and even happier that the article says what I thought it said. My article is safely put to bed.

4p.m. - Ooops

I breathe too soon. One of my sources asks me to change their affiliation. I have to ring the news editor to see if the changes can be made. Another lesson learnt - changes are much easier to make before you file!

6.45p.m - getting the jump on tomorrow

I start looking for stories for Friday's science briefing. I find some stories about the other kind of birds and bees. They might get nudged aside by weightier pieces on cancer or the brain though. I intermittently check Méthode to see if my piece has been spiked but there is no news by the time I leave. I'll have to wait until the morning to see if the piece made it.

[1] HST - the "Holy Shit" Test. Such as Abu Dhabi consortium buys Manchester City? Holy Shit!"

Auntie Em Joins the Fourth Estate (Part Two)

2008-09-01T20:26:00.010Z

Day 1: FT Head Office, One Southwark Bridge. 11am.
I arrive early. It's a mark of my nerves that I arrive a almost 15 minutes early, despite the fact I live only ten minutes away. I go in and sequester myself in the bathroom (thank goodness for sympathetic receptionists) until it's time to meet my editor.

Clive Cookson immediately puts me at my ease. A desk is waiting for me, a password has been set up. I have my own FT email address and access to the Méthode news management system.

I already have an article to write: 800 words for a supplement coming out soon. I'd say more, but I've just met this beast called the embargo and I'm seeing its footprints everywhere. I'm not saying anything about anything that's not in print yet, just in case.

The FT Canteen, around noon
Clive makes introductions and I tout myself around for any more writing that might usefully be done by me. I'm invited for coffee with Clive and Andrew (the other science reporter - there were three, but science coverage is being squeezed everywhere). Andrew is just back from his holidays and an AIDS conference. Hearing Clive fill him in on what he's missed is very useful for me - I get a recap of a month's events at the FT.

I still have the first day at school feeling and, as we leave, I glance around the panoramic windows of the canteen to try to spot my flat. There's no place like home, there's no place like home. I feel very disorientated as we descend to the section marked "specialist writers"

One Southwark Bridge. Early afternoon.
Earlier, Clive handed me a folder of material he has compiled over the last eight years or so on the topic of my first piece. It's extremely useful, though I'm glad I'd already done my prep. by reading up on the subject this weekend. It helps me make short work of the reading and by lunchtime I have a stack of useful notes and an outline. Questions are sliced into two categories by the invisible blade of a deadline - on the one side, the questions I can find an answer for quickly, and on the other, the questions I'll ignore.

At lunchtime Clive shows me how to find the door nearest to Borough Market. It's nice to be on familiar ground, though I'm further disoriented to find that the entrance to one of the world's best known financial newspapers is through what appears to be a cul de sac of late 20th century low rise flats. Finding my way back on my own I was sure I'd made a mistake and was about to claim asylum in someone's living room when I found my temporary home again.

The afternoon's rhythm is broken by a power surge which knocks out everyone's computer but mine (beginners luck) and a fire alarm (caused by the initial surge). On my return I find that I don't like what I've written and begin again.

By late afternoon I have 750 words, but I'm not sure how many are any good. Clive reads it through and points out several places where my writing is stilted, overly pedantic or just reads too much like a journal paper. He likes the overall structure though. The two parts I liked least are the two parts Clive likes least too (to the extent of showing me how to temporarily erase chunks by using the software to strike them out). With about 50 words to play with and a much clearer sense of what I should be doing I spend the next hour and a half finessing what I've written.

Bincho Yakitori, Oxo Tower, 7pm
I meet David for a celebratory dinner. The strangest thing is that, in retrospect, doesn't seem strange at all. It has been a total immersion baptism. Clive's willingness to put a piece entuirely in my hands and let me run with it simultaneously humbling and confidence building. I've met previous fellows that have worked for Clive and they both said they'd had the same great experience.

I feel incredibly lucky: not all of my other fellows have had the same opportunities in their placements. Some are in broadcast outlets and have had to spend much of their time learning how to use the equipment; some are in weekly outlets; some are in print outlets that have too many science correspondents fighting for too little space on the page. I am incredibly lucky, not only to have this fellowship but also to be placed at the FT.

Auntie Em joins the Fourth Estate (Part 1)

2008-08-27T11:40:00.004Z

Day -5: I've just received a phone call from my editor (that still sounds incredibly strange... "my editor") Clive Cookson at the Financial Times. He's suggested an article that he wants me to write for an upcoming special edition on the environment and climate change. It's all starting to feel very real.

In a few days I will start my BA Media Fellowship at the Financial Times. Each year since 1987, the BA and assorted hosts give a handful of scientists the opportunity to spend a short time working in broadcast or print media. The lucky fellows get some hands-on experience of science communication to a wider audience. I'll be spending most of September on my placement, and will write about my experiences here.

Given that repeatedly watching "His Girl Friday" doesn't seem to be adequate preparation, I thought I'd prepare with an interview.

Emma Byrne, from the Financial Times interviews Emma Byrne of Middlesex University, about the BA Media Fellowship:

EB(FT) Why did you apply for this fellowship?
EB(MU) "I am, and always have been, passionate to the point of being anti-social, about science in general and Artificial Intelligence, Robotics and Cognitive Science in particular. I have only just started to realise that this may make me slightly odd. I learnt a salutary lesson about this when trying to explain some of my research to a PR person who actively wanted to promote what we were doing. I found that I couldn't explain to her why "robots doing science" was exciting. I mean. to me it's quite obvious that "robots doing science" is exciting, but to other people it may be (at best) irrelevant or at least not as interesting as robot butlers and flying cars. At worst, the thought of robots doing science may seem more terrifying than GM foods and 'Grey Goo' combined. I was mortified that I didn't know how to communicate the awe that I feel to other people, or at least not in a way that would cause them to be awestruck too."

EB(FT) Isn't it more important to get on with the research, communicating with other scientists in related fields. Why take the time out to play writer for a month.
EB(MU) "You're right of course (and strangely attractive too, I notice). Time is short and my primary job is research. But if I can't answer the most basic questions about my work "why are you doing this?", "what do you hope to achieve" at a level that everyone can understand then I'm lacking an essential skill. Firstly, I'm paid for (at the moment) out of government research funds. People have a right to a better answer than "I'm not sure I could get you to understand" when they ask about work that they've paid for. That should apply to all civil servants by the way."

EB(FT) What do you want to communicate to people outside your field?
EB(MU) "Specific findings aside, I'd like to start with the fact that science is important - hugely, all pervasively important. The products of science have given us most the benefits and many of the calamities of the last couple of centuries and there is no sign of that changing. Many people who would die before admitting they'd not read Hamlet exult in their ignorance of, say, the evidence pertaining to the theory of evolution. This terrifies me. How can they join in the discussion about these great changes when they are proud to be on the periphery? We need to change the misconception of science as sterile, specialist and remote. At its best research is pursued out of joy and curiosity and passion and its results should belong to the whole of society.

"Secondly - I'd like to address the huge problem of "method blindness". No child should leave school without at least a rudimentary understanding of philosophy and the scientific method. We seem determined to instill in our children the idea that arguments from authority are ok. They're not: at best they're a handy shortcut when you don't have time to do the research yourself. We need to do some consciousness raising, to show people that in science the only authority is the data: not your supervisor, or the Nobel prize winner down the hall, or your priest/rabbi/imam, or your president or king. If the data contradicts them all, tough."

EB(FT) So will the FT be full of your pro-science polemic then?
EB(MU) "I should think not. I'm not sure what proportion of the FT audience suffers from method-blindness, but the FT has extremely good science coverage so the readers have plenty of scientific roughage in their diet. I hope to be turning out 400 - 800 word stories about topics of scientific interest. You may have noticed that I have a tendency to be somewhat unnecessarily circumlocutory, one might almost say I verge on the prolix from time to time. If one could get a word in edgeways, one might anyway. The discipline will be extremely good for me. Telling people: what is known; what is contentious; how we know the difference and why it's interesting, all on the back of a fag packet. So the next time someone asks me why robots doing science is cool, I will be able to give them an answer. In 400 words or less."

Emma Byrne (MU) becomes Emma Byrne (FT) for four weeks from the first of September.

Why I don't get American Politics

2008-08-15T09:30:00.013Z

The two logos of Obama - one of these you may have seen, whilst the other looks a little bit like something in Revelation (allegedly).

First some context: In a giant leap backwards to the middle ages, millennial fever is big in the US. In a Gallup poll, 70% of respondents believed in the existence of the Devil. That number has been rising, from around 50% in the 1990s to around 68% in the 2000s[1].

70 million copies of the Left Behind books have been sold in the US. In these books a charismatic politician, Nicolae Carpathia becomes president of Romania due to his intelligence, charisma, knowledge of international affairs, sane-sounding policies to unite the world in peace. But wait! Nicolae Carpathia is none other than... the Antichrist.

There are already several odd people out there who are pushing the Obama/Carpathia "comparison".

Some seem to have genuine concerns which makes me want to take them by the hand and give them the history of millenial cults from Roman times till now.

Others deliberately use the comparison between an antichrist figure from popular novels and Obama, who was calling for peace and cooperation whilst in Berlin. And this is why I don't get American politics - the arguments aren't about who has the best plan for the economy, the successful ending of two overseas wars, the protection of US interests. No, it's about whether one of the nominees looks like a fictional Antichrist (I know - tautology).

Mike has (rightly) complained that I lumped him in with the sadly deluded. He and those like him know exactly what they're doing - they're using a specious comparison with a widely known hate figure to groundlessly tarnish a candidate in an election. "Look everyone - Obama is a successful politician. Carpathia was a successful politician (though fictional) and you wouldn't want to vote for someone like Carpathia would you. He was the Antichrist."

Mike's comparison is based on the fact that Obama seems to be, well, statesmanlike as far as I can tell. That he's had the audacity to visit countries outside the US, to be well educated, to speak foreign languages - these all, obviously, make Obama a bit dodgy. Not on their own, you understand, but if we can make success seem like a bad thing by tying the "Carpathia" tin-can to it's tail, well, let's just see that dog try to run now, eh?

If it were just the blogosphere that would be one thing. No-one on the internet has the duty to promote meaningful political debate. But the politicians themselves have a duty to campaign on issues that mean something to their constituents. Or so you'd think. But now the McCain camp has joined in the name calling and is blowing that dog whistle for all it's worth. A professionally made campaign video aired in the last few days was supposed to look like a satire (all be it of New Yorker Cover unfunniness). But with fonts and imagery taken directly from the Left Behind cover artwork, and a very odd choice of the old, barely used, not widely recognised Obama "presidential seal" logo, Time Magazine thinks there may be more to this than meets the eye:

"The seal, which features an eagle with wings spread, is not recognizable like the campaign's red-white-and-blue "O" logo. That confused Democratic consultant Eric Sapp until he went to his Bible and remembered that in the apocalyptic Book of Daniel, the Antichrist is described as rising from the sea as a creature with wings like an eagle."

"Mara Vanderslice, another Democratic consultant, who handled religious outreach for the 2004 Kerry campaign, agrees. 'If they wanted to be funny, if they really wanted to play up the idea that Obama thinks he's the Second Coming, there were better ways to do it'."

[1]Interestingly, the percentage of those polled who believed in the devil reached 68% in May 2001, before the 9/11 attacks. It has remained consistently high in the Gallup polls since that date.

Serious time...

2008-07-28T16:05:00.001Z

The new job is taking up any frivolous time[1] but I did make a serious post today.

[1] Half an hour a day on ICHC, FailBlog and Go Fug Yourself is not frivolity... no it's not.

M=F in (high school) maths.

2008-07-25T10:17:00.007Z

At secondary school I had a maths teacher confidently (and regularly) claimed that no girls should be in his (the top) set. The fact that I and a handful of other girls were in his set was an anomaly that he couldn't explain. He *could* explain the other, larger handful of girls that asked to be moved down a set - they were no good at maths, of course. It couldn't bet that they were fed up of being singled out as freaks and failures by this abrasive character.

At the end of my second year of GCSEs, in a class of over 30, only five girls remained. I'm sure the other teachers were good, but dropping a set in maths was a disaster. You see at that time (possibly still?) there were two papers for maths: a lower and a higher. The higher paper could lead to any mark from A-C or fail (iirc) whilst the 'lower' exam capped your possible mark at a C. I think this was a hangover from the old 'O'-Level/CSE divide, which had only been abolished a year or two ago. [Edit: I've just found out that this ridiculous system still exists so there are essentially 3 maths exams with a narrow band between cap and ceiling - how discouraging, knowing the school has put you in for an exam you can get a maximum of an E-Grade in (that's got to help with revision). And how terrifying (I remember this feeling) that if you don't get an A*, A or B (A,B, or C in my day) then you fail outright. Is this peculiar to the Maths GCSE? What is the rationale?]

At my school, only those in this top set were entred for the paper that allowed you to get a grade above C. No matter what your potential, if you were in any other set you were only entred for the 'lower' exam, which capped your possible mark at a C. So of my year, there were only five girls (of a cohort of about 100) that could possibly get a grade greater than a C.

I'd like to think that this is good news. That sexist bastard maths teachers will have to bow to the evidence and treat all their pupils according to their skills, not their sex. Sadly, the same results were shown in a study 20 years ago - and whilst I'm old, I'm still young enough that my maths teacher should have been aware of them if he's been a half way committed professional.

As it was I got an A grade (A* hadn't been invented back then). Not only that, I won an honourable mention from the exam board. I shared the school maths prize with my friend James. My maths teacher took me to one side and told me that he'd vehemently opposed 'his' maths prize being given to a girl, hence the share. He also told James, one of my best friends, that I'd only been given the prize as a token gesture - despite my commendation from the exam board.

At that point my heart was broken. I always liked maths because you're on the safe ground of being able to unambiguously prove something. You know when you're right. However it seemed that my results should have unambiguously proved that I was enough of a freak to be a girl who could do maths (oh yes, I bought the girls can't do maths stereotype too - I just longed to be an exception). At that point I gave up on maths - I couldn't bear the humiliation and the though of two more years fighting my way upstream was more than I felt capable of.

Despite excellent maths and science grades I took French and German (two very honourable and serous subjects) and Business and General Studies (what was I thinking). It wasn't only my maths teacher - old fashioned views about "girls subjects" (easy) and "girls jobs" (few) put me off too. To this day I regret, no I'm *ashamed*, I don't (officially) have A-level maths. And that I still think I caouldn't do it, because I'm a girl.

"The Ever Increasing Need for Alternative Viewpoints in the Modern World"

2008-07-24T12:01:00.003Z

Would you like your woo with a side order of genocide?

Karadžić's alt.med website is still up. For a real WTF? moment, take a look at his "10 favourite Chinese proverbs".

The real torchwood:

2008-07-04T13:49:00.001Z

Fearlessly investigating extraterrestrial influences in Wales.

Entomology corner

2008-06-27T11:21:00.004Z

Sorry for the haitus - I've been off finishing one job, planning to fake it as a science journalist and getting a new job.

Today it's entomology time:the bees may be disappearing (So Long and Thanks for All the Flowers?), but Texans have the charmingly named Crazy Raspberry Ant

They can't pollinate worth a damn, but they can kill computers. Actually, according to Tom Raspberry, the pest control expert for whom they were named, the ants ruin computers by creating shorts:

"I think they go into everything and they don't follow any kind of structured line," said Rasberry. "If you open a computer, you would find a cluster of ants on the motherboard and all over. You'd get 3,000 or 4,000 ants inside and they create arcs. They'll wipe out any computer."

Scott Solomon, "The Explainer" at Slate explains how the ant's own communication system compounds the problem:

"When an ant is shocked or electrocuted, it releases a chemical alarm pheromone that attracts its nestmates, triggering a cascade that results in a buildup of dead worker ants that can cause further problems for electronics."

As of May last month the ants had already caused problems with a chemical plant, a sewage station and several fire alarms. The have also been spotted at NASA's Johnson Space Center.

Normal extermination methods don't seem to work on these particular ants - each colony has multiple queens, all of whom have to be eradicated to kill the colony. What's more, the ants seem to be channeling Henry V and will use their dead fellows as a bridge to avoid pesticides.

Little is known about this ant at the moment. The are thought to have arrived in Texas in 2002, possibly via cargo ship. Texas A&M PhD student and urban entomologist Jason Meyers is now the world expert on this species. I just hope he's backing up his computer.

Auntie Em eats the fruit (veg) of her labours

2008-05-02T12:53:00.004Z

Today I made my own lunch:

This is a radish from my balcony allotment. See how pretty it looks in my salad:

Sadly the rest of the salad was bought, but my balcony allotment is coming on:

The closest windowbox has carrots and radishes galore - or will do in a couple of weeks. The furthest one has two squash seedlings, two courgette seedlings, some nasturtiums and some rocket. The big wooden box is my wormery, courtesy of Southwark Council, St Mungos and CRISP. On top is my propagator, in which I'm nurturing some staggeringly vigorous tomato seedlings and various herbs. Behind is an Ikea step stool I used to use on the boat to get down into the galley, treated with leftover paint and yacht varnish (also from my canal days), which I'm using as a potting bench/two level plant stand.

It's a wee bit smaller than Green Butterfingers (of whose allotment I am significantly jealous), but it's not bad for the world's most useless balcony (26' long and 9" wide).

The Gramineae is not necessarily more verdant over there...

2008-05-01T12:50:00.004Z

My entire professional life, and all of my postgraduate scholarship has been in a male dominated field (MDF). It's not without its perils - the possibly older, definitely wiser Female Science Professor has a depressing litany of the kind of bigoted fuckwittery that goes on above my paygrade in her particular MDF. In the main though, I've had to deal with far less overt sexism in the academic version of this MDF than I ever did in industry. Sure, there's still wayyyyyyy too much of this, and the odd well meaning suggestion that this constitutes a viable alternative to childcare. But in the main the sexist ass-hattage seems to be limited to those with an evolutionary psychology bent.

Now over to my friend P, in a particular Female Dominated Field (FDF). The friend, the field and even the institution will have to remain unnamed for now, as legalities may be about to ensue. I was in P's office the other day, in the FDF department of Nameless Big University (NBU). P's colleague popped her head 'round the door, visibly choked with emotion. P disappeared for 30 minutes or so and came back far from gruntled.

Turns out that P's colleague has just come back from maternity leave, and has asked to discharge her role part time. It's a research role so some mix of part time and home working is usually possible. Not only has the (female) head of the FDF rejected her application for flexible working, she's actually increased the number of hours that she wants P's colleague to be in the office. She has to be visibly at her desk from 10-6 every day.

To put in context - academics are not in front of their desks 9-5. I for example am writing this from the members' bar in the Southbank Centre with a nice cup of Earl Grey and my Macbook Air - ain't life grand? No other academic in the department has set hours of presence, as far as P knows.

Now the refusal to consider flexible working/a job share/part time hours is bizarre enough. Yes, everyone wants papers and grants written yesterday, but an experienced head of group should understand that the best insights aren't written between 9 and 5, aren't written at your desk and certainly aren't written when you hate your job. Keeping good researchers productive is 90% of this person's job description, and it appears that she's failing dismally at it.

Making a new parent's terms and conditions more restrictive beggars belief. It seems like P's colleague's is being pushed into quitting. But there's a name for that: constructive dismissal.

So MDF may not be perfect - but FDF is not without it's problems. The sisterhood is a myth.

For my next trick...

2008-04-28T16:18:00.006Z

I am going to learn how to do needlework/quilting/appliqué so I can make myself a wall hanging of the stunning "Structure of the Mammalian Retina" by Santiago Ramon y Cajal (multifarious name, multi-talented guy):

Beautiful, isn't it?

I've been investigating some techniques and I think some stitches from this excellent dictionary of stitches will be in order. I plan to use 28 count linen, couching for the axons and dendrites, satin stitch for the braces and maybe the bases of the rods, and appliqué for the various nuclei.

I know I have some extremely craft-talented readers and I'm hoping I'll get some very useful advice. Know any better techniques? Have some thread/fabric I can have? Already turned this beautiful diagram into your own work of art? Let me know, please!

Great isn't it:

2008-04-24T13:24:00.001Z

Auntie Em runs 26.2 - all the way.

2008-04-14T15:45:00.012Z

I did it - neither rain, nor hail[1] could stay this messenger about her duty. I ran a steady pace the whole 26.2 miles[2]. No stopping, no walking, no sneaky trips to the loo.

The start was great, and running through Charlton in the sun was lovely. I made a conscious effort not to think of the miles ahead. Spent some time chatting to ClaireyS from the Realbuzz Marathon Forum, which was lovely and helped the minutes fly by.

My Mum's giant banner was a very welcome sight as I left Greenwich - next time[3] everyone is to have something to wave as spotting faces in the crowd is impossible!

Rotherhithe was miserable, despite the great crowd support, as I couldn't find David in the crowd through my rain soaked glasses. I had spotted that Rotherhithe tunnel was closed and so knew I wouldn't see him at mile 13 either.

Tower Bridge was great. I knew it from training and know exactly how long and how much of a slope it is, so I paced myself perfectly and it was the first place I really noticed myself pulling ahead of people.

Going out on the Highway was very intimidating. Seeing people coming back, looking exhausted, gives you a salutory preview of effect of the miles to come. The messages from my friends and family on my iPod were essential. I hadn't seen anyone since mile 7, and I didn't expect to see anyone again until at least mile 17. I felt very lonely. Suddenly hearing a friendly voice tempting me with visions of what to expect at the finish, singing, or, best of all, simply saying "you can do it", was the only thing keeping me going.

Mum's Giant Banner was a beacon in the darkness at mile 17 - I knew the freezing cold rain was sapping my energy levels, as was the pace. I managed to yell at my brother "Tell David - Jelly Beans" as I ran past. Knowing (hoping) I'd find David at mile 22.5 with some much needed sugar meant I could guzzle my Gels much sooner than I'd expected.

Coming back on the Highway it started raining again. I started to forget which mile marker I'd been through and my mind was really shutting down. I had no idea of anything except the need to keep going. Then the rain and hail started. As I passed the Shelter cheering point I searched like mad for David and my heart sank when I couldn't see him among the rain-ponchoed cheerers. They yelled "Emma, Emma, Go Emma", I cried back "David, where's David?" Thankfully he was a few yards downstream and I'd slowed enough to pick him out.

I remember my nieces looking very wet and bewildered, my friend Michael looking concerned, my sister in law tearing my jelly beans open with her teeth, and how badly David's coat squelched as I grabbed a very quick hug. I think my brother in law shouted something encouraging as I tore myself away to keep on for the last 4 miles.

A short time later, the lack of windscreen wipers on my glasses made itself felt. Unable to see clearly I plowed through a very deep puddle. I ran the rest of the race with about a quarter inch[4] of water in my trainers. Immediately my feet began to blister and I knew I'd be in trouble for the rest of the run.

By the time I reached London Bridge I'd resorted to counting backwards from 100, shouting at myself, chanting, anything just to keep going. I knew at this point that if I stopped I'd never get going again.

We came to the long underpass. Runners only in here, no crowds, the perfect place for an Epic Fail. I felt my bottom lip trembling. I was about to stop and have a good cry when I heard someone behind me yell "Oggie Oggie Oggie". With the steadiest, loudest voice I could muster, I joined the 100 or so runners in the tunnel with an "Oi Oi Oi".

"Oggie!"
"Oi!"
"Oggie!"
"Oi!"
"Oggie Oggie Oggie!"
"Oi Oi Oi".

I was alright again. I could see the rain sheeting down at the end of the tunnel, but I plowed on.

"Land of Hope and Glory" on the iPod, Waterloo Bridge in sight but so far ahead. How many bridges between there and Westminster? I honestly couldn't remember, despite all the training runs and the years of walking the South Bank.

Running up the Embankment I was searching for the final Shelter Cheering Point and, I hoped, my assorted family. Having my name on my vest for the crowd to see came into its own. "Come on Emma", "You're looking great Emma", "Nearly there Emma", "Keep going Emma". I wanted to thank each and every one of them: though each and every one of them brought me that little bit closer to tears I don't know how I would have gone on without them.

I passed the Shelter cheerers - couldn't spot my family. By this point my legs were weighed down by how far my heart had sunk. The climb to Westminster looked impossible. Suddenly I heard "Spatulaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!" My brother - running alongside me on the other side of the barriers. He stayed with me for what must have been a good 300 yards. The distraction was enough to get me up the slope. One more right turn and St James's Park would be in sight. I'd be nearly home free.

I saw someone with Pix on their vest, who I assumed was Pix from the forum. I ran over to say Hi and wish her luck. More distraction, a few more yards. Then one more push. At the edge of the park I thought of the Breakfast Jog the day before, and Col from the forum saying "you'll get to this bit tomorrow and laugh". I didn't laugh, but I did smile for the first time in about six miles.

Birdcage walk is longer than I remember. I ran it so many times in training, but it never felt this far. The signs start counting down from 800 yards. As you wheel past Buckingham Palace (invisible through the crowds) a gantry informs you that you've got the final 365 yards to go. The sun had broken through the crowds some time before but this was the first time I really noticed. Nothing else reached me as I put down my head down and willed myself over the line.

As I crossed the finish I spotted the cameras and thought of my Aunties who'd be watching and waiting. I straightened up and put my hands in the air. Just stay composed until you're over the line - don't fall to pieces where they might see.

I carried on for 50 metres or so over the line, as good etiquette dictates. No desire to cause a pile up. Suddenly staying upright is the most important thing in the world. I can't see where I'm putting my feet. Huge racking sobs come from nowhere as I try to make my way to the ramp where the timing chips are removed. Joy, relief but mainly exhaustion. I have, it seems, nothing left.

A hand on my shoulder. A marshal steadies me as I climb the ramp. "It's okay, you did great". We exchange a few words about his marathon in 2000. It's enough to bring me back to the world outside the narrow confines of my head, where I've lived for the last two hours, trying to convince myself to ignore the pain, ignore the cold, ignore the urge to stop or even slow. It's a relief not to be alone anymore.

The last two hours of my 4hr50 Marathon were more mental than physical. I know I could have enjoyed it more if I'd taken it slowly, spent time soaking up the atmosphere, treated it as a nice trip around London. But I wanted to see what I had in me. I'm glad I did.

I couldn't have done it without the support of all the people who sponsored me, emailed me, made messages for my iPod or cheered on the day. Thank you all.

My Result:

I say, with not unjustified pride, I am a Marathon Runner.

[1] Nor, probably, glom of nit.
[2] 42.16km for my continental friends.
[3] Yes, really.
[4] Half a centimetre. Which is too much.

Auntie Em Prepares to run 26.2

2008-04-12T17:01:00.004Z

Of course all the preparation is really over - the months and miles are behind me now and there's only the day itself to negotiate. I'm carb-loading like someone who has heard the Atkins Diet is about to become a legal requirement. Sweet potatoes are my new friend - a welcome break from the monotony of pasta, and very tasty baked.

Tonight I have plans for a bowl full of pasta and an appointment with The Doctor. Tomorrow? We dine in the Mall!

Auntie Em gets Expo(s)ed

2008-04-09T18:45:00.006Z

It's all getting very real - today I registered at the Marathon Expo.

It wasn't too busy yet:

Though there was still a queue to pick up the number and chip. Can't imagine what it will be like on Saturday.

I dropped by the Realbuzz lounge and met some of my fellow runners who've been gee-ing each other on in the forum. I, rather optimistically, have the sign below:

I also had a massage from the University of Middlesex Sports Rehabilitation students. This takes place on a completely open stall, I really wish I'd worn shorts, but I feel very limber as a result.

I have the kit bag and my number - all I need now is to eat lots and lots of pasta, and get to the start on time.

Auntie Em has Marathon Monomania

2008-04-08T14:18:00.003Z

4 days left until the big day and the Marathon is consuming a worrying proportion of my thoughts. I go to the Marathon Expo tomorrow - pick up my number and chip, get my name on my vest and hopefully get loads of freebie running stuff.

I'm convinced I have shin splints/an ear infection/an inability to remember how to get to Greenwich on Sunday. I just want to get on with it now.

My Marathon obsession is even spilling over into my Vision Science reading - though it is a good excuse to trawl through the archives for fun results on effort an perception. There's a review of a fun paper on David's and my "serious" blog here.

Auntie Em Tapers

2008-03-30T17:29:00.002Z

10 miles in the sunshine - so much nicer than last week. A simple looping course with as much climb as you can get in Zone One. Through the deserted City, up the Angel, through Kings Cross and Euston and down through Covent Garden, past the Marathon store. Got a frisson at the sight of the countdown clock reading 13 days, 20 hours and some.

Nothing to do now but avoid injury, sleep well and maintain my fitness for a little under two weeks. This time 14 days from now there will be blisters and aches, pizza and champagne and an enormous sense of achievement. And Shelter will be at least £1,600 better off.

Auntie Em Runs 20 - in the snow...

2008-03-24T19:26:00.005Z

My last long run - I planned a valedictory 19 miles before the taper. I hung on 'til the Monday for the extra day of recovery and in the hopes that the weather would improve. Ha Ha:

(Photo from Mahesh F on Flickr)

Still - I managed 20.33 miles - 1.33 miles beyond my target, and in to the mythical >20mile zone:

You can see the speed fade away at the end - I was going about 30sec per mile too quick at the start (in an attempt to stay anything like warm) and about 20sec per mile slower than my target at the end. One more Gel would have helped - it seems that a lot of energy is needed to keep warm in those conditions! I'm impressed that I didn't resort to using my Oyster Card.

Here's the somewhat astonishing route. You'll need to zoom out a couple of times to see it in all its glory. It's amazing how much of London you have to cover in order to run 20 miles!

Auntie Em runs 15 - badly

2008-03-09T18:52:00.002Z

Today was a nasty one: the iliotibial band is playing up again, and I've ruptured a tendon in my right foot.

The second half of my run was agony - and not helped by police cordoning off two sections of my route. I don't know where last week's half-marathonner has gone, but she didn't come out to play today.

Retail therapy this afternoon, with a trip to Decathlon for some compression leggings, some rebound insoles and a patella strap:

I have a 17 miler planned for next Sunday and a 19 after that - then the taper begins. I'm hoping that with a lot of rest, some massage and my new kit I may just make it.

Auntie Em Runs 13.1: the Milton Keynes Half

2008-03-03T12:08:00.004Z

It was sunny, with a refreshing breeze. Network Rail did their level best to ensure I didn't get to the start on time (thank goodness for chip timing). After being told by my sports masseur to consider dropping out, in order to save my knee for the big one I decided to start out slow and steady.

I suffered a few twinges around half way, but could tell that the strengthening exercises seem to have ironed out some of the irregularities in my gait. The course was largely flat (with a few short but sharp climbs towards the end - thanks!) and it's nice running with a field instead of dodging wandering tourists and sleepy commuters.

At about 10 miles in I saw David, and I started to realise that not only was I going to finish this, but that I still had plenty in the tank. At 11 miles I encountered some entertaining climbs and - although my pace dropped right off I do remember passing quite a few people who just seemed to blow up on those inclines. From 12 miles on I raced all the way home.

I came in with a time of 2:08'36", which is an average pace of 9:50 per mile. I also recorded a personal best time for my last mile (8'48"). From which I can only conclude that I haven't been trying hard enough in my other long runs :)

My (detailed) Nike+ record of the event is here and my official race result is here.

It's still not to late to sponsor my marathon, which I'm running on behalf of Shelter.