Distractingly Sexy Science?

Attentive readers may have noticed that there have not been many Bouncing Bertie Boffin posts recently. In fact, some might have concluded I have rather lost interest in scientific matters. Please be reassured that this could not be further from the truth!

However, I will admit I have of late been been remiss in my duties as Scientific Advisor to Blogville, and a news story this week suggests a reason for this.

It is - I kid you not - because I have the misfortune to share my life with a female scientist (albeit one of a different species).

Yes really! It totally must be true because the very famous Nobel prize winner Tim Hunt has said as much. More precisely, this professor of biochemistry from University College London, one of our most elite institutions of Higher Education, opined a few days ago that male scientists should not work alongside female scientists because the latter are a distraction. To quote Prof Hunt verbatim: "Let me tell you about my trouble with girls … three things happen when they are in the lab …You fall in love with them, they fall in love with you and when you criticise them, they cry."

So that must be it. Therein lies my productivity gap. As for sure I love Gail and she loves me. And it is true too that she dislikes being criticised although I will concede her reaction does not normally involve tears, at least not that I have noticed.

Oh. And now Gail is criticising me for writing "utter twaddle".

She also tells me that female scientists are using 'Twitter' to take humorous revenge on the hapless Mr Hunt by posting distinctly unalluring photos of themselves conducting their lab or fieldwork under the hashtag #distractinglysexy.

Hmmm. So Gail has gone upstairs in search of a photo from one of her old albums, to contribute to the 'debate'.

Meanwhile, I shall try to focus my thoughts on some new science posts to sex up your summer...

No answer needed...

That is NOT a jacuzzi!

Does she think I’m stupid or what?

So, at the end of a walk along the shore of Loch Torridon we are fast approaching our cottage and what do I hear?

“OK Bertie, time for you to jump in the jacuzzi. Won’t that be fun?”

There is so much so wrong with this statement it is hard to know where to begin.

1. That is not a jacuzzi, nor any other sort of a hot tub. It is a Scottish mountain stream in full spate. June temperature circa 8ºC.
2. Anyway, it is never, ever the right time for a hydrophobic fox terrier to jump into any sort of water.
3. If it is really such fun to go splashing about in an icy torrent, then why does Gail not step in and join me?

I wouldn’t mind so much if she just told it like it is:

“OK Bertie, your paws and undercarriage are muddy, as is inevitable at the end of a walk in these parts, because I was mad enough to buy a cottage in a notoriously sodden region of the UK, so I am going to rinse you off in this conveniently situated stream, no matter how cold the water is and how much you object, because I am a lazy, uncaring and selfish human who does not want you traipsing round my precious cottage shedding bits of Highland peat bog here, there and everywhere…”

Bright and Happy? Or just rather Fluffy?

Did someone confuse me with an oilfield?

Gail came home from work yesterday, looking a bit more ragged than usual.

Something about a near-interminable video conference with a Kuwaiti oil company,  seven hours if you include the prayer breaks.

I could see she needed to let off steam about it, so I lent her a flappy but attentive little ear.

Apparently at this meeting there had been some difficulties with language and understanding, and this even before the Arabic speakers got involved.

Now even a dog, living in Aberdeen Scotland, the so-called 'Oil Capital of Europe', will absorb some of the industry jargon. For example, I find it fascinating how many words are animal related. We know that giant oilfields are 'elephants' whereas regions devoid of oil will be dismissed as 'cow pasture' (or 'moose pasture' to those from Canada). When drilling a 'wildcat' well, one might work in a 'dog house' and place drill pipe in a 'rat hole'. Should one wish to inspect a pipeline, one will probably use an 'intelligent pig'. Yes really!

Given all this colourful vocabulary, perhaps it should come as no surprise to learn that Gail was asked* at one point in this long meeting to distinguish between the 'bright and happy' areas and the 'rather fluffier' areas on her map of an oil field.

But Gail admits she was surprised, and a bit distracted, by this unconventional use of adjectives. Adjectives more commonly associated with, for example, a bouncing wire-haired fox terrier.

Next thing they'll be asking her which parts of the oil map are 'too cute' and which might be 'a tad boisterous'…


*Gail says: Need I add that this unusually phrased question came from an American oilman with an accent indicating origins somewhere below the Mason-Dixon line?