I might have read the headline ‘no science happened yesterday’. I certainly couldn’t find a report of anything scientific, nor a section in which it would be covered. By contrast a great deal of art and culture happened, and it was reported at length and in breathless detail.
But not the Daily Telegraph (there is something reassuring about a gothic masthead on a newspaper, it suggests that there is a dangerous lunatic in a position of authority in the typesetting department) which does have a science section, and today a dispiriting story: MPs’ report blames government and a quango for science funding crisis
(A quango turns out not to be a recently discovered small marsupial, but a gathering of people less useful than a small marsupial.) It seems a that a quango has failed to fund several projects deemed important by physicists: jobs have been lost, science has suffered, grails of physics will lie undiscovered! and – worse – foreigners are pointing and shaking their heads in a pitying fashion.
Being a peaceable soul, I will gently regret that this quango was guano, but the Science and Technology Facilities Council had better hope that Thos. Huxley (who bookended the coffee bar with me at the Natural History Museum) does not lurch from his own place to confront them.
Huxley did much to establish science as an independent profession here and had an unforgiving tongue: when my persistent critic Bishop Soapy Sam Wilberforce was thrown from his horse and killed by a head injury Huxley commented: ‘For once, reality and his brain came into contact and the result was fatal.’ He made the comment to the physicist John Tyndall who had nothing to say about the gravity of the accident.
Elsewhere the Telegraph’s Mr Highfield reports that starlings know when humans are watching them. A trait that first developed in France, is my guess.
The locals have penned a song for Jodrell Bank, one of the activities that fears it may be chopped.
Would you consider adding your voice to the song? I understand you to be a most able performer.
Charles, is it true that you stuttered as well as your grandfather, Erasmus Darwin? This interesting information of your biography highlights the fact that stuttering runs in families and is likely to have a genetic basis.
Somehow, have stuttering—and its presumable heredity (since your grandfather also had the trait)—helped you to have some insight that later would terminate by influencing you in the formulation of your brilliant theory?
Charles, consider yourself fortunate indeed that you do not reside in Her Majesty’s Colonies. Scientific enlightenment is a rarity on these shores.
Charles, I know it’s been over a century but surely you must remember me, the captain of the Beagle?! Hazzah, my old friend. I’m delighted to see you’re educating the world once again. For my part, I’m writing a story everyday. Yes, that’s correct, a new story which I’m writing every single day!! May we renaissance men of the Victorian Age take over the web.
http://fastfictions.wordpress.com/2008/05/01/i’m-the-captain-of-the-beagle/ Yes, Charles I’m still getting used to this new technology. Here’s is the link upon which you may click.
Hypothesis: newspapers with gothic mastheads are more likely to have science sections than those without.
If I may, kind sir, there are two other Telegraph science pieces crying out for your expert commentary. These are Dr Roger’s home experiments and Top ten greatest experiments ...though the latter is regrettably and inexplicably devoid of your own brilliant work, it is nevertheless a worthwhile read.
‘Experiments’? While I have the greatest respect for Mr Darwin, surely he is/was an empiricist? A magnificent synthesis, yes; but what experiments did he do?
A magnificent synthesis supported by such experiments as floating the corpses of pigeons in a tank of saltwater for 42 days – duplicating a bird’s corpse floating on a substantial ocean crossing – then germinating seeds from its crop.
That is all I can summon at this moment, since I am currently suffering from food poisoning contracted – I suspect – from a London station food outlet, and am somewhat reduced.
Scott, in my day I was something of a pianist. When I invited my supporters to Down in 1856 Huxley brought his violin and smashed it against a my bookcase after a particularly vigorous solo. Hooker often nodded his head along with the music in a rogueish fashion. Oh, we knew how to enjoy ourselves in those days.
I hope that Henry and Graham may take note of your immediately preceding comment.
And, of course, I trust that your reduced state is soon overcome, so that we may enjoy the benefits of your discourse once again.
I apologise. Make that Henry and Graham.
Mr Darwin – I am heartened to learn of your musical soirees at Down House. Had I been in the vicinity I’d have been delighted to have joined in with an affecting pentatonic solo on the harmonium, alternating, perhaps, with similar contributions from Mr Graham Steel, who I believe is also gifted in that quarter.
I hope one day to join you in a preserves – or ‘jam’, as you call it these days – session. I have bid in on ebay for a theremin.
Mr Darwin, I welcome your suggestion of a jam making session. As Dr Gee has alluded to, one indeed is gifted on
smallerportable harmonium styled structures.I do indeed hope you are successful in your acquirement of a theremin
Richard, I am very glad you asked that question, because it gives me a chance to point you to The Experimental Darwin
on Afarensis.