Entomology corner

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

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...

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...

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:

Auntie Em runs 26.2 - all the way.

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

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

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

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

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...

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

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

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.

It should be Band...

or, I'm down but not out.

I've spent the best part of the last fortnight walking like this:



Anyone following my runs on my little Nike+ widget down there and to the right would have noticed a worrying drop off in my activity of late. I've had a nasty flare up of my illotibial band - which I didn't know I had - due to a sudden ramping up of my training distance (blame the joker who thought it would be helpful to tell me that getting past 13 miles is a huge psychological burden, or blame me for jumping straight up to 16.5)

With some very boring cycling, some swimming and pilates and a couple of very painful massages I'm starting to get back on my feet and still aim to do the Milton Keynes Half this weekend. It's funny how 13.1 miles doesn't seem at all daunting anymore (I've run 14 with a nasty injury, and in a none too shabby time too!). I'll post next week to say whether my hubris was short lived!

Zotero, my dear-o

Y'know those relationships that start with mild curiosity, build through overwhelming passion and develop into slavish devotion. I'm having (another) one of those, and it's with a Firefox plugin called Zotero.

I've never been an Endnote user, and have thus far done all my academic writing in LaTex. The joy of a handcrafted .bib file is hard to beat and yet, and yet...

When there's an icon in Firefox's address bar inviting me to save the bibliographic data for the page I'm on. When the related PDF will be spidered and saved locally, more often than not. When individual entries, or whole sets of entries can be exported in a handy report (which, happily, makes me look very productive to the paper lovers out there). When my husband discovers the M$ W*rd plugin that allows you to use Zotero to build your references automatically...

I still love LaTex - WYGIWYW[1]beats WYSIWIG any day. But I know I'm fighting a losing battle trying to get my current (social sciences) and future (neuro scientist) colleagues to share the love. And so, it's over to Word I go. Don't get me wrong, Zotero will make a .bib file for me too, but it's an enabler, and my path to the dark side is paved with Zotero's good intentions.

I love Zoreto madly, and the fact that it is promiscuous enough to play with the proprietary boys (Word), as well as the kookie, indie crowd (LaTex) just makes me love it all the more.

Zotero: I know true love asks for nothing, but on the day you let me change which fields you add to those fantastic reports you give me, I will swear undying love to you forever.

[1]What you get is what you want

Pasta, sports socks and a good bra...

And you guys - cheer me on as I train for the Marathon. It's cold outside!

Pigshit in space

I came across this via the mighty Pharyngula:



From the false dichotomy in the first sentence to the outright lie at the end ("theories on the Moon's origin are also completely inadequate..."), this is one long tissue of tosh. Worse still, a longer version of this is being sold (for actual money) as an educational (i.e. intended to make you smarter) resource for home-schoolers via the makers' website.

If you want to know what the research really shows, there's plenty out there. It's not like NASA hide their resources, and the ESA goes out of its way to be helpful too. But the data don't support the creationist world- (or indeed solar system-) view.

If you really want to know the most likely explanation for the formation of the moon, I suggest you look elsewhere: ("Analysis of data from NASA's Lunar Prospector spacecraft has confirmed that the Moon has a small core, supporting the theory that the bulk of the Moon was ripped away from the early Earth when an object the size of Mars collided with the Earth"). Note the reliance on data - and not just any data, only data that is consistent with other, independent observations:

"The current data come from gravity measurements conducted by Dr. Alex Konopliv of NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory, Pasadena, CA. His results indicate that the Moon's core radius is between 140 and 280 miles (220 and 450 kilometers). This result is consistent with independent magnetic data, evaluated by Dr. Lon Hood of the University of Arizona, Tucson, which suggest that the core radius is between 180 and 260 miles (300 and 425 km).

"In other results from Lunar Prospector, Dr. Robert Lin of the University of California at Berkeley, Dr. Mario Acua of NASA's Goddard Space Flight Center, Greenbelt, MD, and Hood also found that a broad section of the southern far-side of the Moon has large localized magnetic fields in its crust. These fields occur opposite the large Crisium, Serenitatis and Imbrium basins -- three of the "seas" that cover much of the Moon's near side. This result supports earlier evidence linking strong magnetized concentrations on one side of the Moon with young, large impact basins on the other side."

Science is expensive, risky and painstaking work:

"Lunar Prospector conducted its [64 million USD] primary mapping mission at an altitude of 63 miles (100 kilometers) for almost one year after its arrival in lunar orbit on Jan. 11, 1998. In December and January, the spacecraft's altitude was lowered to approximately 15 miles by 23 miles (24 kilometers by 37 kilometers). Analyses of data from the lower-altitude observations are expected to further improve scientific understanding of the origin, evolution and physical resources of the Moon."

Creationism, on the other hand, is an arrogant and petulant attempt to retain "favourite child" status in a universe that we increasingly understand to be so awe-inspiring that the only sane response can be humility.

If that is too heavy for you, I direct you instead to Professors Flansburgh and Linnell:

Sorry it's been a while...

... I blame cortisol dysregulation.

I'll be back with some cool things about Kangeroo eyes soon!

Here it is, your moment of Zen:

For those with Jon Stewart withdrawal symptoms:

Fun with fruit gums

Ben Goldacre does a good post on the heinous waste of money that is the ID card project. Of course the Mythbusters have already shown that it is possible to bust the fingerprint biometric with nothing more than a photocopy of a fingerprint.

So if you think a couple of CDs with names, addresses and bank details going missing is bad, just wait until your fingerprints (which you leave behind you everywhere) are the key to all your data. Time to start wearing gloves.