A small molecule has been discovered to have amazing properties when it comes to fight a number of disparate cancers in the body. However, none of the big pharmaceuticals seem interested in picking it up as it's not patented, so their potential profits would be limited.
I love the unfettered profiteering face of unashamed capitalism.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Housing woes
We've been trying to move house since we got back to the UK. As you're no doubt aware, the process of selling and buying a house in England is so painfully arcane, financially inefficient and just generally a pain in the proverbial that on average one ages at least a decade as a consequence. First we put our house up for sale (I say 'we', but Sarah's been running the process with a steady hand. As those of you that know her probably can imagine), and lo and behold, someone put in an offer we decided to run with. 'We' found a nice 3-bed flat in a popular location in town which would shave Sarah's commute down to a 5 minute stroll, and make mine more manageable in terms of the (admittedly woeful) bus connections. The flat looked to be in immaculate repair, and against better judgment we started hearing words like 'new roof', 'developed by company, not cowboys out for a big buck', etc. The only problem was - the bathroom had a bidet. I was about to say 'estate agents are liars', but why state the obvious? We made an offer, including the removal of the bidet, which eventually was accepted.
Now the fun started. Get a solicitor. Get a mortgage. Endless, pointless, costly conveyancing searches. Ok, basement flat, but no record of any damp proofing after a complete refurb? Odd. An acquaintance who lives nearby quips at a Christmas party that something definitely had gone wrong with the flat as several different contractors had been in and out of the flat some six months ago to what appeared to amount to redoing work previously done. Sarah managed to dig out who'd done the work, the mercurial 'Bob'. Yes, the builder really was called Bob. Bob explains that he was called in to tidy up the mess that had been left in the wake of the set of cowboys that had messed up the flat completely with the shoddiest workmanship he'd ever encountered in his professional career. Whatever Bob did he uncovered something serious, including a nail through a gas main. The whole flat had to be rewired. There had been no damp work, just a floating wooden floor with carpet on top. The floor had just rotted away. He'd done his best, but his brief had not included a proper damp course, as this had been deemed too expensive. Instead, he tanked the flat - floors and walls - with asphalt, and dry lined it with plaster board and painted. Now, probably waterproof, but hardly breathable as it were, and not recognised as a proper damp course. He normally gives a life time guarantee on his workmanship, but was not prepared to do so in this case due to the state of the place.
When our survey came to the conclusion that the flat was overvalued to the tune of £20k, we decided to cut our losses and walk away.
So instead, we put a offer in on something completely different, and are now looking forward to restarting the whole procedure.
Now the fun started. Get a solicitor. Get a mortgage. Endless, pointless, costly conveyancing searches. Ok, basement flat, but no record of any damp proofing after a complete refurb? Odd. An acquaintance who lives nearby quips at a Christmas party that something definitely had gone wrong with the flat as several different contractors had been in and out of the flat some six months ago to what appeared to amount to redoing work previously done. Sarah managed to dig out who'd done the work, the mercurial 'Bob'. Yes, the builder really was called Bob. Bob explains that he was called in to tidy up the mess that had been left in the wake of the set of cowboys that had messed up the flat completely with the shoddiest workmanship he'd ever encountered in his professional career. Whatever Bob did he uncovered something serious, including a nail through a gas main. The whole flat had to be rewired. There had been no damp work, just a floating wooden floor with carpet on top. The floor had just rotted away. He'd done his best, but his brief had not included a proper damp course, as this had been deemed too expensive. Instead, he tanked the flat - floors and walls - with asphalt, and dry lined it with plaster board and painted. Now, probably waterproof, but hardly breathable as it were, and not recognised as a proper damp course. He normally gives a life time guarantee on his workmanship, but was not prepared to do so in this case due to the state of the place.
When our survey came to the conclusion that the flat was overvalued to the tune of £20k, we decided to cut our losses and walk away.
So instead, we put a offer in on something completely different, and are now looking forward to restarting the whole procedure.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Bilingualilsm halts the onset of dementia
Canadian researchers report that life long bilingualism delays the onset of dementia. That's extraordinary, but not the first time that bilingualism has been linked to physical changes in the brain's structure. It was reported some time back that true bilinguals have notably denser brain matter in certain areas, a property shared with long-time London cabbies, of all things - this seems like a phenomenon ripe for investigation by the Freakonomics team.
Bilingualism is different from learning another language as an adult, regardless of level of fluency. Only languages learnt in the process of learning speech itself will contribute to the physical changes in the brain.
Bilingualism is different from learning another language as an adult, regardless of level of fluency. Only languages learnt in the process of learning speech itself will contribute to the physical changes in the brain.
Toccata & Fugue
In the hell that is patching up other people's code mess, I picked up my iPod to stop people interrupting me. You look busier with head phones on. When coding, or especially when writing, I find that classical music works best - no lyrics to distract you. Although saying that, I was frequently giggled at during my PhD write up for singing along to Mozart's Requiem. Nothing like a good death mass in Latin to get you going in the morning. But I digress. My iPod selected the quite astonishing organ piece Toccata & Fugue in D minor from Bach. If you've never heard it, if you're of a certain age it will still sound strangely familiar and eerily modern. I've lost count how many long-haired guitar heroes of the last few decades that unashamedly ripped off this piece - the complex scales seem as if they'd been specifically composed to fit in the hands of a young Ed Van Halen, Joe Satriani or Steve Vai. Of course Bach had altogether a more pious audience in mind, but still, the piece seems irresistible to rock musicians. Jon Lord, on the Hammond organ, used to perform pretty much the whole thing on stage with Deep Purple, and I keep expecting the drums to kick in.
Nothing new under the sun.
Nothing new under the sun.
Monday, January 15, 2007
Bullet proof suit
Some guy has made a 'bear proof suit' which has evolved into a bullet-proof exoskeleton. Pretty amusing demo..
How to cut your commute in half
I already knew this, of course, but decided to try it out this morning. I ran to the station, in a leisurely pace. Bit of a pain running with a ruck sack, and quite hard to motivate yourself doing exercise at the crack of dawn, but I essentially halved my time, compared with the bus. Luckily, it wasn't raining. I'll probably stick to the bus those quintessentially British days.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Ode to the Campus Board
The campus board must rank as the most efficient workout form possible when it comes to developing upper body strength. A 10-minute workout on the board will feel like an hour in the gym the following morning. For those unfamiliar with the device, it's an angled board suspended about six feet above ground with nine horizontal rungs, about an inch and a half wide, about 10-12 inches apart. A number of different exercises are possible, the most basic being pulling up from one rung to the next, like climbing (the back of) a ladder without using your feet, first up and then back down again. The next step is to start missing rungs out, for example the 1-3-5: from rung 1, pull up to rung 3 with one hand, and then to rung 5 with the next. Taken to its logical extreme, we get the 1-5-9, a digit combination that has a near mythical meaning to climbers. But the real win on the board is to move from rung to rung with both hands simultaneously, especially if this is done both on the way up and down again. This is considered to be the most efficient recruitment training known. Recruitment is one component of the strength/power equation, the number of muscle fibres that the brain and nervous system can recruit to do the work. The higher recruitment, the more 'explosive' your muscles are. Power is strength developed per time unit, so to increase your power you can either increase your strength, or decrease the time it takes for your body to 'switch it on'. The campus board can work both aspects.
The device was invented by German superstar climber Wolfgang Gullich as a specific training method for the preparation of the route Action Directe, the world's first grade F9a in the Frankenjura. It's basically a big campus board, involving 6-foot footless spans between single-digit pockets. When he started out he couldn't even hang the mono pockets, let alone move between them.
As a training device, the campus board has quite a high barrier of entry - few people can do the first joint pull ups that's needed even for the most basic laddering. There are ways around this by for example starting out supported by a bungy cord or by using one foot initially to take some of the load. More seriously, due to the intensity of the training, it's very easy to get injured, especially in elbows and shoulders.
Be good, and if you can't be good, be strong.
The device was invented by German superstar climber Wolfgang Gullich as a specific training method for the preparation of the route Action Directe, the world's first grade F9a in the Frankenjura. It's basically a big campus board, involving 6-foot footless spans between single-digit pockets. When he started out he couldn't even hang the mono pockets, let alone move between them.
As a training device, the campus board has quite a high barrier of entry - few people can do the first joint pull ups that's needed even for the most basic laddering. There are ways around this by for example starting out supported by a bungy cord or by using one foot initially to take some of the load. More seriously, due to the intensity of the training, it's very easy to get injured, especially in elbows and shoulders.
Be good, and if you can't be good, be strong.
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Public Transport
UK public transport is a joke. A sad excuse for a joke.
I live in Bristol, but work in Bath. Bath is about 10 miles away, a nice little 10 minute train journey away. Bristol Temple Meads is probably the largest, busiest train hub in the west of England. I have approximately 3 miles from my house to the station. This morning, my aim was to get to work a tad earlier so that Sarah and I would have time to go for a run before heading out for a birthday meal tonight. I step out at 8, missing my preferred bus number 73 by a whisker, but getting on the 75 that arrived just after. This means I have to change in town, but no biggie. However, as we get into town we have caught up with the 73, and as I step off I can simply step on the 73 I missed. Great! At this rate I'll easily make the 8.45 train, possibly even an earlier one. The 73 sets off, but halts again after about three stops, and the driver leaves. Evidently the end of his shift. Kind of interesting time to do a driver swap, slap bang in the middle of rush hour on a bus bound for the station, but hey. We wait. No new driver. After 15 minutes a manager bod from the bus company steps on, asking if anyone's seen a driver. He tries to phone his boss, but gets no response. In the end, he has to call for a replacement bus complete with driver, and we swap buses. Ok, so I'm now looking at the 9am Paddington train. Not too bad - this is my normal train - but that's the end of my plans of getting to work early. Two stops later the fattest, most obese, tramp-like person steps on, and I can feel the fumes of bodily odours and last night's White Lighting on his breath the moment he enters. Please, please, please sit somewhere else, I plead silently to myself. He resolutely plonks himself next to me. He takes up two thirds of the seat I'm on, and that's still with one arse cheek hanging over the edge. The stench makes my tears water, and I disappear further into my audio book.
When we finally arrive at the station, it's 9.02 and the London train has left. I leg it to try to catch the Portsmouth train due at 9.04 and it just pulls in as I battle the stream of people coming the wrong way down the stairs and get on. Not too bad, still. When I look up after a bit my watch says 9.09 and the display outside says that the train is delayed. Strange. I step off and asks a member of staff what's going on.
"We have no driver"
Genius. No driver. I guess the train just rolled in on its own? I've lost my patience now, and stomp off in a huff. Next viable train leaves from platform 1 (other side of the station) at 9.22, and I trek over there. Delayed, expected 9.28. Fecking feck. Ok, what's next - the 9.30 Paddington service, at platform 13. Ho hum, back the other way.
So, I finally made it into work at 9.46, having travelled less than 15 miles in nearly two hours.
The public transport system is badly broken.
I live in Bristol, but work in Bath. Bath is about 10 miles away, a nice little 10 minute train journey away. Bristol Temple Meads is probably the largest, busiest train hub in the west of England. I have approximately 3 miles from my house to the station. This morning, my aim was to get to work a tad earlier so that Sarah and I would have time to go for a run before heading out for a birthday meal tonight. I step out at 8, missing my preferred bus number 73 by a whisker, but getting on the 75 that arrived just after. This means I have to change in town, but no biggie. However, as we get into town we have caught up with the 73, and as I step off I can simply step on the 73 I missed. Great! At this rate I'll easily make the 8.45 train, possibly even an earlier one. The 73 sets off, but halts again after about three stops, and the driver leaves. Evidently the end of his shift. Kind of interesting time to do a driver swap, slap bang in the middle of rush hour on a bus bound for the station, but hey. We wait. No new driver. After 15 minutes a manager bod from the bus company steps on, asking if anyone's seen a driver. He tries to phone his boss, but gets no response. In the end, he has to call for a replacement bus complete with driver, and we swap buses. Ok, so I'm now looking at the 9am Paddington train. Not too bad - this is my normal train - but that's the end of my plans of getting to work early. Two stops later the fattest, most obese, tramp-like person steps on, and I can feel the fumes of bodily odours and last night's White Lighting on his breath the moment he enters. Please, please, please sit somewhere else, I plead silently to myself. He resolutely plonks himself next to me. He takes up two thirds of the seat I'm on, and that's still with one arse cheek hanging over the edge. The stench makes my tears water, and I disappear further into my audio book.
When we finally arrive at the station, it's 9.02 and the London train has left. I leg it to try to catch the Portsmouth train due at 9.04 and it just pulls in as I battle the stream of people coming the wrong way down the stairs and get on. Not too bad, still. When I look up after a bit my watch says 9.09 and the display outside says that the train is delayed. Strange. I step off and asks a member of staff what's going on.
"We have no driver"
Genius. No driver. I guess the train just rolled in on its own? I've lost my patience now, and stomp off in a huff. Next viable train leaves from platform 1 (other side of the station) at 9.22, and I trek over there. Delayed, expected 9.28. Fecking feck. Ok, what's next - the 9.30 Paddington service, at platform 13. Ho hum, back the other way.
So, I finally made it into work at 9.46, having travelled less than 15 miles in nearly two hours.
The public transport system is badly broken.
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Morrissey
The Beeb is reporting that talks are in progress to get Morrissey to represent the UK in the Eurovision Song Contest.
That's...I'm speechless. Just imagine - Jimi Hendrix doing the Star Spangled Banner. Eh.. or The Sex Pistols doing God Save the Queen. Erm, ok, Monty Python doing a take on the last days in the life of Jesus? No? Kraftwerk taking on Joy Division's Love Will Tear Us Apart?
More silly cover versions on a post card, please.
Anyway - Morrissey is probably the most unlikely candidate for Eurovision glam. Now, I've had this blog post on The Smiths on the back burner for ages, ever since my friend Chris asked what the fcuking point was about The Smiths and Morrissey.
One day I will write that blog.
That's...I'm speechless. Just imagine - Jimi Hendrix doing the Star Spangled Banner. Eh.. or The Sex Pistols doing God Save the Queen. Erm, ok, Monty Python doing a take on the last days in the life of Jesus? No? Kraftwerk taking on Joy Division's Love Will Tear Us Apart?
More silly cover versions on a post card, please.
Anyway - Morrissey is probably the most unlikely candidate for Eurovision glam. Now, I've had this blog post on The Smiths on the back burner for ages, ever since my friend Chris asked what the fcuking point was about The Smiths and Morrissey.
One day I will write that blog.
Friday, January 05, 2007
Best of the Box
Since the discovery of the new, eh, time shifting capabilities of certain digital TV channels, I've gradually worked my way through various TV series that I otherwise wouldn't have had the attention span to see. Here are my top-5:
On a similar note, got given both series of This Life on DVD for Christmas. It's brilliant. A great snapshot of the hedonistic excesses of the 90s.
- The West Wing - pure magic, crisp writing, wonderful story lines, and a window into what the world might look like with an educated Renaissance man in the White House instead of the current moron.
- House MD - proper medical drama, that is a drama about medicine, rather than about relationships between medics. It's said that all real doctors secretly want to be Greg House, a genius that hates patients but loves medicine. Brit comedian Hugh Laurie in his finest role to date. Oh, the put-downs..
- Scrubs - a somewhat lighter take on the hospital drama. Recent series sprinkled with references to House for the eagle-eyed. Very funny, with the occasional more serious moment. And Dr Cox's put-downs are almost as acerbic as Greg House's..
- Gray's Anatomy - yet another medical drama. A more grown-up version of Scrubs, perhaps. Less medicine, more bonking.
- Boston Legal - has some of the best characters ever in a TV series. The first two series were magic, but later ones are starting to suffer from the Ally McBeal syndrome - it's just getting too weird.
On a similar note, got given both series of This Life on DVD for Christmas. It's brilliant. A great snapshot of the hedonistic excesses of the 90s.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Witness the Fitness
Chris Sharma, wunderkind, arguably the best climber on the planet, dispatching his aptly named problem 'Witness the Fitness'
Snow!
After an abysmal start to the winter season, snow is now finally falling over the Alps. We have a week's skiing booked for the end of Feb so a bit of base is always good.
Anyway, had a good time in Sweden over New Years, with plenty of good food from our most excellent chef team, a staggering array of drinks, saunas and dips in 0-degree Baltic waters with great friends. Trees were chopped down, fireworks set off and poker was played especially well by Sarah. She has the right mindset to become a great player if she wanted to - the right blend of discipline, analytical ability and instinct.
There was very little ice this year, in fact the least ice I've ever seen over Christmas as far as I can remember back. We still had to break through a little bit, but it pretty much vanished as the days went by.
Anyway, had a good time in Sweden over New Years, with plenty of good food from our most excellent chef team, a staggering array of drinks, saunas and dips in 0-degree Baltic waters with great friends. Trees were chopped down, fireworks set off and poker was played especially well by Sarah. She has the right mindset to become a great player if she wanted to - the right blend of discipline, analytical ability and instinct.
There was very little ice this year, in fact the least ice I've ever seen over Christmas as far as I can remember back. We still had to break through a little bit, but it pretty much vanished as the days went by.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
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