Use of cat and dog fur banned in EU

According to a report on the BBC site, the use of cat and dog fur has finally been banned across the EU from the start of 2009, after a nine year campaign by a Scottish Tory MEP.

Apparently, more than two million cats and dogs are said to be killed for their skins in China every year. Many shoppers buy goods made with the fur unknowingly, as exporters attach false labels. MEP Mr Struan Stevenson, whose campaign was conducted with the support of the Humane Society International, said the furs were even used to make cat and dog toys which parents bought for their children, not realising that real cats and dogs have been killed and skinned to make the products.

Although I find the whole thing revolting anyway, using it for kid's toys has a particularly macabre irony, especially if the family has pet cats or dogs. It's just one step removed from using fully-fledged taxidermy specimens for toys. A good result for Mr Stevenson though!

Horoscopes make me feel shifty, but I like them

Hello to any passing blog readers - happy new year! I've been scrutinising my horoscope for this month and what 2009 might allegedly hold for me, probably along with loads of other people. Mentioning it makes me feel a bit shifty though, as if it's some dodgy illicit habit that I shouldn't admit to in certain company (on the blog's ok, of course).

I don't know why I read them, but I have been for years in one particular magazine. Every month I think it's time to stop, as it's probably a waste of money - a couple of quid on a magazine full of typos and frequently rather suspect grammar, with articles that make me cringe slightly and always go unread. Topics like the 'jelly baby spell that changed my life' and articles about fairies. I like to think I'm fairly open minded about these things - no reason that fairies don't exist, any more than aliens may or may not do, along with any other more conventional spiritual entities - unless you've seen them, it's a case of belief. My mum's side of the family have always been interested in psychic things, from uncle's Aleister Crowley habit to my late gran's spiritualist leanings.

But I still feel dreadfully shifty when I queue up in the newsagent to buy my monthly horoscope fix, hoping no-one notices what I'm holding. Sometimes I also buy something more respectable, like The Guardian or the Times Higher Educational Supplement, as if to show that I might be buying that magazine, but my brain's still intact, to anyone that notices (which is very unlikely). It seems worse somehow than buying the Daily Mail or the News of the World, which I also occasionally do if there's something odd in them.

I don't know why I feel like it's something illicit that I shouldn't admit to doing. Maybe it's the logical scientific side of me that thinks it's silly. Maybe it's the apparent girliness of the whole horoscope thing I don't like, as if it's tainted with some negative aspect of femininity. Or maybe there's some intellectual snobbiness involved and when I'm Dr so-and-so I won't care.

Well, whatever it is, I shall continue to read them, shifty or not. I had my horoscope done ages ago by someone with a glass eye (which was slightly distracting, if I'm honest) but it was strangely accurate and I have continued to read them in a particular magazine ever since.

So this month's snippet of astro-advice for me is to 'plod on' with my work. It's definitely relevant - it could have been written for anyone trying to finish a PhD. It's nice to know that what I'm doing is affirmed by certain heavenly configurations. Reading horoscopes is harmless enough as habits go. Maybe anything that sensibly confirms what you are already doing, or want to do, is ok in these times of global doom and gloom.

Song for the day: The Floaters 1970s soul classic 'Float On', from Top of The Pops. The lyrics are a bit strange in retrospect, but fit the blog post ok!

Hefty tome

Well, it's been a long time since I looked at this blog, hasn't it. I have rather sadly been very preoccupied with my dreaded PhD.

However... I handed in my final draft last week (hehe!!) and have now been challenged by TheCatsMother to immediately start 'diverse and original blogging' again.....

Not sure I can manage that yet, but I'll give it a go. This last month's work has really drained me mentally and physically, I'm afraid. I feel like a manky old wrung out dish cloth, but I don't think it's permanent. *phew*

Firstly, a PhD Final Draft fact: I weighed it on my kitchen scales, and it's a whopping 3 and a half pounds. That's about 1.58 kilos apparently, according to some online conversion chart. Quite heavy, you know. A hefty tome indeed. I had it bound, even though it's not the final version for submission, just a cheapo plastic spine thing, but it looked fairly impressive, if I say so myself. A LOT of paper and dare I say it, a hell of a lot of work has gone into it. Does that sound like I'm blowing my own trumpet a little?? Aah well, so be it!!!!

So now I am waiting for the feedback from my supervisors, wondering what sort of workload it will bestow on me for the festive season. Until then, I've been sleeping a lot and pottering about catching up with domestic things, a bit of clothes shopping and spending my birthday gift vouchers. Guilt-free TV watching is also proving very pleasant, the current run of Diagnosis Murder repeats are becoming a nice little habit. Unfortunately, I also seem to be dreaming about this imminent feedback, which isn't very nice, but I guess a bit of stress goes with the territory. Ah well, not long to go until it's over....

It would be too boring to post a pic of my thesis in all its weighty glory, so here's one of some 1970s Osmonds Letraset transfers that the lovely Dr Helen McCookerybook sent me a while ago. Some imaginative ideas for how to use your Popstar Watchits given in the packet include sticking them on your makeup mirror, on your favourite shirt buttons and on the toes of your platform shoes. Perhaps most spookily, it pre-empts today's grown-up nail art trend by several decades by suggesting you stick the small ones on your fingernails.

PS The Osmonds transfers aren't just a random bit of ephemera to fill up a blog post, you know. There is logic buried in there... today happens to be Donny Osmond's birthday.

Microbes and becoming a troglodyte

My recent interest in microbes was a result of going to an event linked to an exhibition at the Royal Institution. It was a science/art crossover thing that consisted of various artists exploring themes in collaboration with scientists from different fields. It was interesting to hear scientists extolling the virtues of bacteria, as I'd never thought about them before, other than in relation to obsessive modern health / disease prevention / sanitary product adverts on the TV / potential OCD scenarios.

I went because there were various people connected with my workplace in the exhibition, but I liked Anne Brodie's work best, although we didn't get to see the whole project. She created photographic portraits by illuminating the faces of her sitters in a darkened photobooth with containers of specially cultivated bioluminsecent bacteria placed near their faces. The bacteria emitted enough light to enable slightly eerie photographs to be taken. These portraits were projected onto the wall of the old lecture theatre when we went to the event, as the photobooth had been dismantled by then. I was disappointed that we couldn't get to see the actual containers of glowing bacteria which sounded fascinating. It was interesting to see something like bacteria used as a tool to create something both commonplace and beautiful like portraits, considering all the really negative connotations popularly attached to microbes. I'd really have liked to have seen stills or film of the interior of the photobooth with the containers of bacteria during her presentation, but maybe they'll appear in a piece of work at a later date.

Other than that, and being in an exhibition for PhD work, having assorted colds and viruses, a few other arty outings and a birthday, I've become a sort of part-time troglodyte for the past few months - defined as someone living in seclusion and unacquainted with the affairs of the world. I think hermit life goes with the territory for PhDs when you get to a certain point.... nearing The End. That rather scary Ultimate Deadline in February 2009 when I have to submit. But hopefully I won't leave the blog so long next time....

Cuddly giant microbes

These cute little cuddly toys are all based on the shape of real microbes that you've probably come across (or not). The best sellers from GiantMicrobes include: "The Common Cold, The Flu, Sore Throat, Stomach Ache, Brain Cell, E. coli, Kissing Disease, Ulcer, Martian Life, Beer & Bread, Black Death, Ebola, Flesh Eating, Sleeping Sickness, Dust Mite, Bed Bug, Bookworm, and many more!" The categories for each type of microbe are enticing too... choose from calamities, exotics, infirmaries and maladies, to name a few.

I like the way they all look so cute with their little beady eyes, almost pleading to be taken home. They're supposed to be educational too, so what more could you want? It's a purely personal opinion of course, but I think I would prefer to see these toys in someone's home than a large collection of dolls or teddy bears, which I find slightly twee when adults have them.

fed up

I haven't posted for ages (again). I think it'll be like this for the next few months probably, as my thesis is rolling on towards the end and it makes me feel physically sick when I realise how much work I've still got to do - it scares me in case I can't get it done in time, because that will be it - all those year's work down the drain. So I just seem to work all the time, either on that, or else I go to work. Long hours, so I'm always tired, but I can't think of how else to stop myself worrying about it. If I don't actually do something tangible, then I dream about it and feel knackered the next day. I know it's normal, as other Phders say exactly the same things so you feel a bit better but it's a very weird way of life at the moment. My tolerance for prats seems to be much lower than it used to be, I've been really irritable lately, not nasty or rude, I don't think, but people and things just get on my nerves faster than they usually do. But then you see something horrible, like the aftermath of a bad road accident on the way to work, and it puts things into perspective.

Anyway, sorry to moan, I'll get off to sleep now and try to do a happy post next time.

Another blogging gap, another excuse

It's only been a few weeks since I last logged into Blogger and so many changes... such a cluttered-looking screen when you login, rather ugly and so beige-brown. And I tried to leave a comment on Sandancer's detective blog and got a weird error message saying someone else was performing the same action (I don't think so.)

Oh well, I'll fiddle around today and see how it goes.

It's a bit like bringing in a sick note to say why you've been off for a while, but my reason for lengthy absence was hideous work loads, both in job and the PhD. Stressful and time-consuming, but I've got a couple of weeks leave now, so can catch up with being human and get on with my academic work with slightly less juggling of responsibilities. Feel a bit bad admitting this, but I didn't even remember I had a blog while I was caught up with work, but then I started thinking of the blogs I read as real people instead of anonymous things on the internet so I did miss it in the end. Thanks for popping over and leaving the odd comment btw.

Will potter around a bit now and be back later.