Science is boring

Science is boring.

Science is hard.

Science is irrelevant.

Scientists are all men with crazy hairy white coats.

Scientists are dull.

Scientists have no social skills.

As a scientist myself, I disagree vehemently with the statements above. However, I'm willing to bet that if you plucked a random member of the public off the street and showed them this list they’d nod their heads in agreement. This is something that frustrates me deeply.

We can live to a ripe old age. We can travel all over the globe. We have plenty to eat. We can talk to pretty much anyone, anywhere, from anywhere. We don't all have to slave away at manual labour. We have ridiculous amounts of entertainment available. Thanks to what? Science and engineering. Are these things bad? No! So why, as a rule, do people hate science?

In the UK we have a culture that worships wealth and celebrity. We no longer care about actually making things or discovering things. Instead it's all about the marketing, the advertising, the 'doing business'. We are concerned more with the superficial appearance of products than with their inner workings.

From an early age children are taught that science and maths are hard, only for geeks and nerds. There's no shame in not understanding; in fact to fit in with our peers ignorance is positively encouraged. Once these views are introduced they quickly become entrenched, with disinterested kids becoming adults who boast at dinner parties of their inability to add up.

This is a monumental reconditioning. By our very nature humans are curious, creative creatures. We begin life fascinated by how things work. And the whole point of science is to find out how things work. How every single thing in the entire universe works. How can that possibly be dull? How can people look at the world around them and have no desire to understand it? Yes, the understanding is sometimes hard. But many things worth having are hard to get, and often the greater the challenge the more satisfying the rewards.

The lack of scientific understanding in the general public causes many problems. For scientists themselves it's pretty rubbish as we are unappreciated and looked down on. But that's a minor issue. Much more important is the fact that if people lack knowledge they can be easily manipulated. The media can whip up scare stories and people are unable to filter the truth from the fabrications. Ill people can be persuaded to go and see homeopaths instead of doctors, parents deprive their children of vaccinations against terrible diseases, politicians don't think that changing the composition of the atmosphere will change the climate. This is dangerous.

I love learning new stuff. Most people don't. Why?

 My old lab looks a little like this. I think lasers are cool.

Mark Thomas at the Exeter Phoenix

Mark Thomas is a political activist/comedian who makes a living by getting worked up about various causes, going on trips to find out more about them and then returning to the UK to tell us all what he's discovered via books and shows. Previous issues that he's tackled include the arms trade and human rights violations committed by Coca-Cola, but this tour he's turned his attention to the Middle East. His slightly deranged plan, which he's termed 'extreme rambling', was to walk the entire length of the separation wall, the barrier constructed by the Israelis ostensibly to prevent suicide bombers crossing into Israel. Along the way he would speak to both Israelis and Palestinians living nearby, to try to better understand what they believed and to work out whether this wall could possibly be a good thing.

Given the militarised state of the West Bank, and the fact that people get shot and gassed all the time for going anywhere near the wall, this was quite a big ask. However, being British (fake-Scottish to be more specific) and having the assistance of a local 'fixer' proved considerable boons, and he actually managed to complete his walk. Along the way he met a whole host of fascinating people and learned an awful lot, experiences which he is truly eager to share.

Like most comedians he's a bit of a lefty, and so his natural sympathies lie with the oppressed Palestinians. However, he doesn't attempt to ram ideology down our throats; rather he tells us stories about what he saw, the people he spoke to, and leaves his conclusions until the epilogue. The subject matter is at times utterly horrifying, but Thomas simply states these facts in a low sombre tones, then quickly moves on to a more light-hearted anecdote. This deft way of mixing serious issues with laugh-out-loud comedy is what makes Thomas so successful. The audience gets the message but goes away uplifted rather than depressed, and doesn't get bogged down in the horror of it all.

After the show we stayed for a beer, and after a while were shocked to see Thomas appear in the bar area wearing a suit. A suit? Crikey, that's not what we expected. However, it fit well with his professionalism, and he took the time to have a decent conversation with everyone who had hung around. He seemed genuinely grateful that people had come along rather than being resentful that he had to sign stuff. We had a good chat and shook his hand. It's nice when your heroes don't disappoint you.

 

Mark Thomas

The Smoke Fairies at the Exeter Phoenix

The Smoke Fairies are not your usual kind of group. The music produced by Katherine Blamire, Jessica Davies and their backing band defies easy categorisation: a mix of folk (but not in a hippie-with-guitar way) and bluesy Americana with occasional smatterings of rock combine to produce a shivery, soulful sound. This is music filled with winter, best listened to in the woods at night in the freezing cold with a full moon rising (probably).

It was therefore a bit of a shame to see them indoors, in the hot and stuffy auditorium of the Exeter Phoenix. The advantage of the venue is that it is rather small, and so everyone is close to the action and can admire the skill with which the girls play their licks and slides. The guitar work looks pretty complicated, and is perhaps the reason why they never looked like they were enjoying themselves; too much concentration required to crack a smile. They did however engage with the crowd in spurts of banter between songs, revealing at one point that they were tanked up on an odd mix of Lemsip Max and whisky.

Thankfully no hint of a cold was evident in their voices, which are sublime. They complement each other beautifully, weaving their way through luscious harmonies and counter-melodies. Their slightly nervy, Home Counties-accented speaking tones seem jarringly ordinary in comparison.

Normally I prefer music at the rockier end of the spectrum, but the Smoke Fairies work best when pared down. This was illustrated perfectly when the rest of the band went out back, leaving just the two girls on stage to perform the song 'Erie Lackawanna'. A slow and melancholy tale of old age, this was truly haunting. Faster numbers such as 'Hotel Room' were also very good, and provided a welcome change of pace, but lacked the shiver-down-your-spine quality.

Support came from Sea of Bees, whose performance was elevated by the lead singer's unique voice, although it did at times feel like an on-stage therapy session. The music was well done, but not really to my taste. Overall though, the evening was excellent and an absolute bargain at just seven pounds for a ticket.

Smoke Fairies

Hash House Harriers: the drinking club with a running problem

Running? Not my cup of tea, thanks. All that Tarmac pounding and extra effort in order to move marginally faster than I can walk? The expensive shoes, the fluorescent jackets, the god-forsaken Lycra? The near-guaranteed knee problems? No, I'm definitely not interested.

Unless ...

What if the whole aim of the exercise was to work up a good thirst for the beer afterwards? What if you didn't trudge up and down the same route time after time, but had a different trail each week? What if you could pause and walk whenever you felt in need of a breather, and no one would think any less of you? What if there were enforced sweetie and beer stops along the way? What if you were running with a big group of friendly, and utterly bonkers, people?

That sounds much more appealing.

But does such a group exist? Brilliantly, yes it does. Not just in the UK but all over the world people calling themselves hashers are running riot through the countryside and the cities, confusing passers-by and livestock alike with their cries of 'On on!' and 'Checking!'. What's more, they've been doing this since 1938, when the whole idea was devised by a group of British officers in Kuala Lumpur.

 

Picture stolen from Isca website. Don't worry, they won't mind.

So what exactly is it they are doing? Well, the whole idea is based on paper chases, whereby a person known as the hare sets the trail and the rest of the pack follow it. It isn't an easy route however, being littered with false trails, dead ends and loops of differing lengths. Various symbols are marked out in chalk, flour or sawdust, the most important being the circular check. When a check is reached the hashers at the front of the pack (known affectionately as the Front Running Bastards) go off in search of dots which mark where the trail goes next. While the FRBs are doing this hunting the rest of the group can catch up, ensuring that everyone is kept together and that things don't get unpleasantly competitive.

The trails tend to be circular, between 4 and 7 miles long, and finish off at a pub. Before the serious business of drinking can be undertaken however, all the hashers have to form a big circle so that the Religious Adviser (a member of the Mismanagement) can dish out the Down downs. These are awarded to thank the hares, to punish those who have been 'naughty' during the run, or for any other tenuous reason that can be conjured up. As can be guessed from the name, those given a Down down have to drink half a pint of (usually) beer all in one go, whilst being jeered at by the rest of the pack.

One additional idiosyncrasy is the fact that no one goes by their real name. This custom derives from hashing’s colonial beginnings, and allowed men of all different ranks to run together as equals. Names range from the gently teasing to the crude, and once chosen can't be changed. To give you a general idea, my hash name is Twice Nightly.

I've been a hasher for about three months now and I'm in danger of becoming addicted to it. I'm still terrible at running of course, but that isn't the point. What could be more fun than careering through the muddy countryside with a bunch of great people followed by drinking proper beer at a nice pub? Not a lot, I reckon.

Find a hash near you:

The UK Hash House Harriers website

Groups I've hashed with:

ISCA

City of Exeter

Devon Lunatics

North Wilts HHH

On on!