Sunday, August 29, 2010

World DNA Day 2011

Since this website materialized, last month, I have been pleasantly surprised by the collective response. 70 hits per day has been about average, along with a stream of emails, some informative, most very articulate, and a few strangely entertaining. Please keep them coming. Yesterday, I received an extremely welcome message from a Ms Alina Qian of Dalian, China. It began:

‘Dear Dr Spradbery,

‘We are organizing BIT’s 2nd World DNA and Genome Day 2011. It is truly an honor [sic] to welcome you to present your work (Track 4-6: Genetics and Forensics) on April 29 [my birthday], 2011 in Dalian, China.’

Then, later:

‘We would invite your precious comments and suggestions on the structure of our program. Also, your reference to the other speakers would be highly appreciated.’

It lists some of the other speakers as:

‘Dr Thomas A Steitz, Nobel Prize for Chemistry 2009; Dr Aaron Ciechanover, Nobel Prize Laureate in Chemistry 2004; Dr Tim Hunt, Nobel Prize Laureate in Physiology or Medicine 2001; Dr Richard Roberts, Nobel Prize Laureate in Physiology or Medicine 1993; Dr Kary Mullis, Nobel Prize for Chemistry 1993; Dr Avram Hershko, Nobel Prize Laureate in Chemistry 2004; and Dr Robert Richardson, Nobel Prize Laureate in Physics 1996.’

Needless to say, I rubbed my eyes and read it again! It was, clearly, a genuine communication from the Beijing Institute of Technology, although I have yet to discover the source of my nomination. It relates to a research article, published in Bioscience Horizons by Oxford University Press in May of this year. This was a compressed version of a dissertation report which I had written during a highly enjoyable term at the University of Chester, England. It was the first forensics article ever published in that particular journal, so, naturally, I am delighted by its recognition and at the prospect of another trip around the world.

I have no idea what to expect when I arrive. In the small print of the invitation, though, is the promise of:

‘Five Social and Art events to let you enjoy the essence of romantic Dalian.’

Quite what that means is anyone’s guess. It could imply anything from a fine art gallery to a lap-dancing club. When I read the rest of the literature, it prompted me to think back to the 2002 London Book Fair at Kensington Olympia. There were 1,600 booksellers under one roof, along with sales executives, advertising agents, retailers, PR types and all manner of consultants – but hardly any writers, on whose creativity the whole parade ultimately depended. It seemed to be so dreadfully ‘top heavy’ to me. It is to be hoped that DNA Day centres on the most deserving individuals – the scientists themselves.

So watch this space, if you will. The plot will surely thicken between now and next April.

Full details of this prestigious event can be found opposite at:

http://www.dnaday.com/

My research article is freely available, in full (either HTML or PDF), at:

http://biohorizons.oxfordjournals.org/content/3/2/166.full


Copyright 2010 Paul Spradbery

Monday, August 23, 2010

Meet Lord Whitehouse

Lord Whitehouse of Suckley can trace his ancestry all the way back to his father. This is, of course, a rare attribute among the English aristocracy. The Whitehouse estate, all six hundred acres of it, straddles the border of Herefordshire and Worcestershire and provides him with a panoramic view of both counties. As I walk through the rococo-decorated front entrance, I am ‘welcomed’ by His Lordship’s best friend, a nine-year-old Burnese Mountain Dog (Figure 7.1).

‘He’s a sniffer dog,’ he explains. ‘Crotches, mainly. Especially if they’re sweaty. Never fails to investigate a stranger down at the village pub.’

His local, incidentally, is the Nelson Inn, a mile down the lane at Longley Green, where once he drunkenly introduced himself as: ‘Suckhouse. Lord Suckhouse of Whiteley’.

‘The Nelson is a marvellous watering hole,’ he enthuses, saliva dribbling down his chin. ‘But the lanes are unlit. One has to walk home in complete darkness.’ He leans forward and grins. ‘Arrived home covered in cow dung last week. Took a short cut across the meadow and my flat cap blew orf. Found it all right, but not before I’d tried on a few others.’

The remaining (non-alcoholic) part of his diet consists mainly of scotch eggs and blackberries, most of which he pilfers from the banks of the Severn in Worcester or, failing that, his neighbours’ gardens.

‘Did try one of those Indian curries once,’ he says, recoiling. ‘Damned near burned my mouth.’ His eyes suddenly widen. ‘And, let me tell you, worse was to follow.’ At which point, he laughs so hard that he starts coughing. ‘Digestive system can be somewhat unpredictable at my age. Diarrhoea and so forth. Usually torrential. Sometimes explosive.’ He shakes his head vigorously. ‘Never been one for surprises.’ He laughs again and wags a forefinger. ‘My old underpants are not to be sniffed at.’

‘Who owns the adjacent property?’ I ask him, changing the subject.

‘Ah, just some city lawyer. Lowers the standard somewhat. And knows nothing of country life.’ He reaches for his whisky glass and talks into it. ‘Blithering idiot, he puts manure on his strawberries.’ He lowers the glass and belches. ‘I prefer ice-cream on mine.’

The latest Lady Whitehouse, an Essex blonde twenty years his junior, is oblivious to any of his five previous marriages. A graphic designer, she is equally eccentric in her own way. Her main passion is for cleaning up after horses, and she spends most evenings up to her neck in her work. His Lordship tries manfully to tolerate her singular passion.

‘I don’t object to horses per se, you understand. It’s the manure I find hard to swallow.’

‘I thought you preferred ice-cream,’ I add.

‘Yes. Yes, I do,’ he says, missing the joke. ‘And blackberries to strawberries.’

‘What about booze? Any preferences?’

‘Single malt.’ He leans towards me. ‘After reading about the evils of drinking, I gave up reading.’

‘So whisky is the answer, is it?’

‘No, but it certainly helps me to forget the question.’

A surreal hour with one of the guardians of the English countryside comes to an end when his good lady reappears. He winks at her and gestures for her to sit on his knee, thereby confirming his reputation of being eccentric, sociable, accommodating ... and very, very drunk.

Figure 7.1: 'Balti', the resident hound at Four Turrets Manor

Copyright 2010 Paul Spradbery


Copyright 2010 Paul Spradbery

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Galileo In The Kop

Anfield. Tuesday, 1st May, 2007.

The Champions’ League semi-final, second leg, between Liverpool and Chelsea had just ended 1-1, after extra time. This all-important tie was to be settled by a nerve-wracking penalty shoot-out. A toss of a coin determined the end at which the match would be settled. Liverpool won the toss. The finale would, therefore, take place at their famous ‘Kop’ end, where thousands of their noisiest supporters were congregated.

The fans knew this would be advantageous. When one of their own players stepped up to take a kick, they would be absolutely still and respectfully quiet, so as not to distract him. Conversely, when a Chelsea player did the same, they would move wildly about and create the most raucous din possible. Why? Because they have learned that vocal intimidation affects opponents’ concentration.

Chelsea scored only one of their five penalties. Liverpool converted three and won the match.

As tense as the spectacle was, it was nothing new to the Anfield faithful. After a similarly thrilling European match in the early 1990s, a previous manager, Graeme Souness, equated the Kop’s deafening roar to an extra player. Few disputed his logic. Put simply, crowd noise counts.

Allow me, now, to open up a parallel thread, as it were. It pertains to the equally heady world of pure mathematics. There is a particular type of algebraic curve called a parabola. Physical manifestations of this curve, such as the Sydney Harbour Bridge (Figure 6.1) or a jet of water from a fountain, are thus said to be parabolic. (This shape is important in mathematics, physics and structural engineering. It applies, also, to projectiles. For example, the path of a football kicked into the air will be parabolic. Every time. How hard it is kicked and the angle at which it leaves the ground are immaterial. The same is true of a golf ball, a javelin or a ballistic missile. If a moving object is subject only to gravity, then its trajectory will necessarily be parabolic.)


Figure 6.1: The parabolic bridge spanning Sydney Harbour

Copyright 2010 Paul Spradbery

One of its mathematical properties is of great consequence. Every parabola has a so-called focus. If, for example, a light source is placed at the focus of a parabolic mirror, then, no matter where on its inner surface the light rays contact, they will be reflected in a parallel beam (Figure 6.2). This is the principle of a searchlight.


Figure 6.2: All waves, of either light or sound, emerge in parallel

Now, back to football. In 2003, Liverpool were granted planning permission to build a new stadium at nearby Stanley Park. The proposed new Kop Stand will be - ingeniously - a three-dimensional parabola. The crowd will be seated at and around the focus. As sound waves behave exactly like light rays, the noise generated, tremendous as it is, will be reflected from all over the inside surface of the stand to form a parallel ‘beam’. In other words, only a bare minimum of sound will dissipate. Almost all of it will be channelled, like a searchlight, towards the pitch. The net effect will, of course, be substantial amplification of vocal support for the home team.

There are already some famous behind-the-goal stands in English football. Manchester United’s Stretford End, for instance, was designed for 12,000. The present Kop at Anfield holds slightly more, 12,390, and Aston Villa’s Holte End caters for a whopping 13,472. The new Kop has a provisional capacity of 18,500, which would blow away all today’s competition. Moreover, taking into account its ingenious ‘parabolic reflection’ facility, an amplification boost of, say, 30% would create the equivalent noise of 25,000. This would be double the intensity of noise generated by today’s Kop.

When the new stadium is built, as well as having the combined passion of thousands more fans, Liverpool will also be able to summon the combined expertise of Menaechmus, Apollonius, Galileo, James Gregory and Sir Isaac Newton (Figure 6.3).

More penalties will be missed, for sure.


Figure 6.3: Can the application of mathematics skew the playing field in Liverpool's favour?

Copyright 2010 Paul Spradbery


Copyright 2010 Paul Spradbery

Friday, August 06, 2010

From Here To Absurdity

Schopenhauer once wrote that absurdity is the king of the world, relinquishing control only for brief periods. Any writer or dramatist who attempts to create it from scratch is wasting his energy. It is far easier simply to wait for reality to deliver it on a silver platter. After all, it is never likely to take long.

Here is a chain of events relayed to me recently by a friend of a friend. I was taken into confidence on the condition that I would not put any of it in writing. I gave my word but, after listening to the story, tried shamelessly to grab it back. The compromise was that I would 'tweak' the details so as not to identify those involved. Here goes.


Figure 5.1: Artwork inspired by A.W.

Becky and Ballard have been on the verge of separation for years. Only apathy has kept them together this long. Last week, however, it became known to my friend that Becky had bought another house. Nothing unusual, or unexpected, about that, except that she had done it without telling Ballard. Even more astonishingly, her new house was just a hundred yards down the lane from the one they still shared.

One Saturday last month, Becky decided to spend a few hours' solitary relaxation in her secretly-acquired space. This was on the pretext of a shopping trip to town, ten miles away. When she announced her intention, however, Ballard insisted, to her stifled annoyance, on giving her a lift. She cursed him under her breath, put on a sickly smile and climbed into the car.

On arrival in town, she waved goodbye to him and, once he was out of sight, cursed him again and headed straight for the bus station. There, she waited for half an hour, boarded a bus and spent another half-hour stop-starting all the way back to square one.

In order to reach her new pad from the bus stop, she had to walk past the marital home. She anticipated not being seen, as Ballard was still in town. So she thought. To her horror, as she walked down the lane, a familiar grey Toyota appeared in the distance.

Ballard wound down the driver's window. 'What are you doing back here?'

'I forgot my credit card,' she said, innocently. 'You're home early.'

'I know. The blokes at the garage fixed it while I waited.'

Becky unlocked the front door and went upstairs. What happened next?

Groundhog Day.

Ballard called casually after her: 'There's no need to rush - I'll take you back into town!'

Now spitting bricks, she climbed into the car - again - and endured a carbon copy of the ten-mile trip. As Ballard drove away - again - she retraced her steps to the bus station and boarded the very same bus, which was being driven by the same driver, who probably thought he was losing his mind.

It was midday when Becky arrived back where she had started, by which time it was pouring with rain. Such is the poetry of moral justice, I suppose.

The difference between creative genius and absurdity?

Genius has its limits.


Copyright 2010 Paul Spradbery

Tuesday, August 03, 2010

Ophidiophobia

The first snake I ever saw was on Brighton Promenade. I was twenty-two years old. It was an African rock python (Python sebae), if I remember correctly, and I posed for a photograph with it wrapped around me. Its handler had attracted a small crowd, all presumably thinking that his 'pet' posed no danger to them. (Why, otherwise, would it have been let out?) Not everyone stopped to investigate, though. Some people watched, with a mixture of apprehension and repulsion, from a safe distance; others took one glance and moved smartly on.

My next encounter was not quite such a relaxed affair. Five years later, while travelling with an American friend in Northern Thailand, I came within ten yards of a monocled cobra (Naja kaouthia) (Figure 4.1). No longer than a few feet in length, and with dull, brown skin, it looked none too threatening - until it raised its head, fanned out its neck and made an ominous noise. This time, a photo opportunity was not on the cards. My pal, anxious at the best of times, almost laid a duck egg. Without needing to confer, we turned and ran, and decided immediately against sleeping under the stars.

Figure 4.1: Meet Mr Naja kaouthia, better known as the monocled cobra

Copyright 2010 Heinz Klaus Thiesen

Our fear was well founded. The venom of this species contains an extremely potent neurotoxin (nerve poison). Very few bite victims survive. Even now, when I close my eyes, I can still see the thing and shudder at the thought of what might have been.

Many children, including my own, are fascinated, and quite fearless, when in contact with snakes in a 'safe' setting (Figure 4.2). Their reaction to meeting one, unexpectedly, in the wild, however, might well mimic my own several years ago.

Figure 4.2: Father and son with a six-year-old Boa constrictor

Copyright 2010 Suzanne Knipe

Most people, worldwide, are inherently wary of snakes. This is in spite of the majority of them having never encountered one in an uncontrolled environment. Some are utterly terrified. Others cannot even bear to look at pictures of snakes. Fear of this nature qualifies as phobia - ophidiophobia, to be precise.

Why, then, if actual danger is, in most cases, non-existent, is fear all but universal? Most modern living environments are, in this respect, perfectly safe. Parents do not warn their children to keep an eye out for snakes whenever they venture outdoors. There is no need. The answer can be explained only in the light of evolutionary biology.

The environment of our ape-like ancestors was significantly different from our own. The threat from snakes was, in many parts of the world, real and constant. Individuals who had innate ability to anticipate danger (with, for example, fast reflexes and sharp peripheral vision), along with the good sense to avoid anything wriggling along the ground, would have been more likely to survive than those who had not. Hence, their reproductive success would have reflected this advantage. The long-term effect is that those who reacted reflexively to snakes would have survived to produce a greater number of descendants.

Biological evolution is, overall, a slow process. Conversely, environmental change need not be. Humans, today, carry the snake-fearing genes of their ancestors, despite those same genes now bestowing little benefit in a world which has moved on. In other words, our 'old' genes still hold sway in our 'new' environment.

This leads us to a broader consideration of what determines all the other aspects of human behaviour. Where, indeed, would be the best place to begin?

Our DNA, that's where.


Copyright 2010 Paul Spradbery


Sunday, August 01, 2010

Save St Mary's Lodge

St Mary's Lodge is situated between twin reservoirs on Lordship Road, Stoke Newington, London. Built in 1843, this 13-room property, complete with substantial gardens, incorporates subtle architectural features such as arched windows and terracotta brickwork accents.

Of all the elegant Victorian houses which once adorned this part of the capital, St Mary's is the last one standing. Well, just about. Today, tragically, it is a wreck. Ravaged by fire in 2005, and since used as a tyre dump, it has remained neglected and uninhabitable ever since. It would still, nevertheless, be possible to restore it as a unique development for the people of Hackney Borough.

There is, of course, a good reason behind my keen interest in the Lodge's future. It was designed and constructed by my forefather, Mr John Young (1797-1877) (Figure 3.1), renowned architect and erstwhile Surveyor to the City of London. Among his other works is the Royal Marsden Hospital on London's Fulham Road (Figure 3.2).

Figure 3.1: My ancestor, the architect John Young (1797-1877)

To be exact, he was my great-great-great-grandfather. His daughter, Caroline Pettis Young (1838-1908) married my great-great-grandfather, Mr James Knight Spradbery (1841-1907) in 1865.

Figure 3.2: The Royal Marsden Hospital, London (1863)

My forebears lived in the property until 1878, when it was sold to a wealthy corn merchant, Mr William Crabb. Despite the Crabb family living there for only six years, a fascinating story about their grandson emerged in 2006, fifty years after his death. Lionel 'Buster' Crabb OBE, GM (1909-1956) had become famous, posthumously, after winning the George Cross for outstanding courage during World War Two. The acclaimed 1957 film The Silent Enemy tells of his days as a Royal Navy diver and intelligence agent. According to newly-released documents, he was eventually murdered and dismembered by a Russian frogman while attempting to attach a surveillance device to the hull of a Soviet warship. A dangerous occupation, if ever there was one.

Almost a century later, the Lodge had assumed a quite different status. In 1961, London County Council utilized the building as a charity-run hostel for single mothers. Although fondly remembered by many of its occupants, the facility closed in the mid-1990s (Figure 3.3) and was subsequently vandalized until completely derelict (Figure 3.4).

Figure 3.3: St Mary's Lodge in 1993

Copyright 2006 Charles Rohrer

Encouragingly, there now exists an energetic campaign dedicated to its restoration. However, the possibility of full renovation has been hampered by complex legal wrangling, involving not only its current owner, but also the Mayor of Hackney, various local councillors and Stoke Newington's MP, Diane Abbott.

I hope desperately that an acceptable agreement can be reached in the near future. Otherwise, an impressive facet of East London's history will be lost forever.

Figure 3.4: St Mary's Lodge in 2003

Copyright 2006 Charles Rohrer


The campaign to save St Mary's Lodge is based at:

http://www.stmaryslodge.co.uk/

Further information regarding John Young can be found at:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stoke Newington

National Archives files appertaining to Lionel 'Buster' Crabb can be accessed at:

http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/releases/2006/october/crabb.htm

A concise account of Crabb's life and work, along with further references, is available at:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lionel Crabb


I should like to thank Mr Charles 'Chuck' Rohrer, a leading campaigner, for allowing me to include his photographs in this article. He describes the Youngs and their descendants as 'an interesting bunch'.

Thanks, Chuck!


Copyright 2010 Paul Spradbery