Reflections on Japan

Back in April-May we spent a fascinating 2 weeks in Japan, mainly in Tokyo and surrounding districts. It was an opportunity to glimpse another culture as well as experiencing a super-mega-city (at 35 million it is almost twice as big as Mexico City, the second largest city in the world).

Despite a falling birth-rate and inverted population pyramid, Tokyo seemed full of young people – young men with highly contrived hair-styles and shaved eyebrows, and doll-like young women in lacey blouses and pastel pleated skirts. There were lots of babies, too, many carried in slings. People were everywhere - every shop, restaurant, and museum was packed to the rafters, though it was possible that  ‘Golden Week’ - a week of public holidays-  artificially increased the population. Nonetheless, given the vast number of shops etc – grid after grid of streets packed full of huge department stores as well as Starbucks and MacDonald’s - this was quite an achievement. And expense didn’t seem a deterrent, either (a cup of coffee was around £3; costs for most things are far higher than in the UK).

I loved the beautiful parks and the splendid butterflies (swallowtails; huge blue and black ‘bluebottles’), and I loved the way the Japanese manage to create gardens in the tiniest of spaces, even a piece of pavement near a door. I marvelled at the weather (heat, rain, thunder, tornadoes), and the way the forest marches down the steep hillside into the edges of the towns. I admired all the temples and shrines, and found the Japanese approach to religion – basically, doing a bit of venerating on special days or at times of need but otherwise not being too bothered - was quite healthy. And I really relished Japanese courtesy, the bowing in shops, the endless ‘thank-yous. This seems to have extended into the street-signs, and the generous provision of English signs everywhere - particularly welcome in the exceptionally tangled Metro system.

But there were unsettling aspects of Japanese society also, such as the way many people create babies out of lap-dogs, even pushing them around in prams. The prevalence and popularity of Pachinko – slot machine venues – was also peculiar, particularly as money cannot be acquired (gambling is forbidden) and no skill is involved. And the Japanese attitude to women can sometimes be a source of discomfort, for example in the ‘waitress cafes’ common in places such as Akihabara, the electronic district of Tokyo, where the young waitresses display both innocence and sexuality. Last, but not least, down at the coast at Hase we saw tsunami warning signs, a small indication that in Japan, the natural world is magnificent but also threatening.

What makes schooling good?

Last Monday, a Radio 4 'Analysis' programme discussed what makes good schools good. Ethos and environment were important, and of course the quality of teaching. The programme also pointed out, however, that family background/influences account for 90% of a child's progress, with only 10% due to schools. Put another way, 'successful' pupils are mostly from middle class homes. But it's not the bigger house or fancier food that makes the difference, though no doubt they help. The things that predispose children to succeed include discussion, questionning, curiosity, and a sense that the world is full of wonderful things that are worth discovering.
These are intangible yet profound benefits, and can only be acquired by a close and happy relationship between parent and child. If we want to improve the lives of children who come from disadvantaged backgrounds we should focus on ensuring that their parents have or gain these skills. If we want to increase the influence of schools, and make schooling good, we should ensure that teachers behave like the best parents and interact with children at a personal level to help them not only understand and learn, but to make their lives happy and exciting. And we need to reduce class size. Actually, I'm probably describing Eton without the boarding and flogging, and I'm implying cost. But fulfilled children are more important than a handful of satisfied bankers.

Migraine II

My last migraine episode reminded me in no uncertain terms about the gastro-intestinal aspects of the condition. The complete lack of cold symptoms at the time also made me doubt my previous ideas about a viral origin (though I still think it was an interesting idea!). This has led me to a re-think, and a realisation that the emetic centres of the brain ( specifically the area postrema in the medulla) must have some involvement. This links to some extent to the observations from PET scans (as reported by the Migraine Trust) that brain stem areas appear to be active during migraine attacks. The Migraine Trust article indicates that current thinking is more in favour of neurological origins of migraine than vascular, but I wonder if both are involved. The area postrema is a curious structure that by-passes the blood-brain barrier to some extent and is sensitive to several circulating chemicals. One substance for which receptiors have been found is prolactin, which apparently is associated with osmoregulation in lower animals. Perhaps migraine attacks are associated with changes in prolactin levels - these can vary diurnally and seasonally, and perhaps might peak after periods of stress; the osmoregulatory aspect of its function may cause changes in intra-cranial pressure associated with headache.The involvement of prolactin - or something like it - might also help explain why females are more affected than males, and why women tend to suffer less after menopause (see Migraine Trust factsheet). However, migraine does not seem to be a major symptom of hyperprolactinaemia. Apparently, dopamine tends to inhibit synthesis of prolactin, so the ultimate orgin of migraines may be disturbances to dopaminergic pathways - this could be tested by appropriate use of dopamine agaonists/antagonists.
It's another idea, anyway!

Old Plots

Some authors wittingly or unwittingly repeat versions of the same plots in different novels. This is definitely the case in Jane Austen novels, it seems to me. ‘Pride and Prejudice’ seems to have clear parallels with ‘Sense and Sensibility’ for example: two sisters seek husbands; one is led astray temporarily by a rake (Wickam and Willoughby, respectively), but eventually end up marrying an aloof but sound type (Colonel Brandon and Mr Darcy). Even in ‘Emma’, which has a very different plotline, there is once again an untrustworthy young man (Frank Churchill) contrasted with a more mature and sensible one (Mr. Knightly).
Another author who seems to show plot repetition is Henry James whose novels I have been reading recently. For example, in both ‘Portrait of a Lady’ and ‘The Bostonians’ there are Svengali-figures (Gilbert Osmond and Selah Tarrant respectively), both fathers to rather dreamy young girls (Pansy Osmond and Verena Tarrant). Key characters also include uptight young ladies with varying degrees of fondness for the dreamy girls (Isobel Archer – the ‘lady’ whose portrait is being depicted, and the Bostonian Olive Chancellor).
Though I’m not unhappy about anticipating genre, I do feel a little cheated when I detect a repeated plot - it is almost as if the author didn’t work hard enough to find something new for their readers to get their teeth into. I appreciate that authors such as Austen were constrained by the period and circumstances in which they lived, but there’s far less excuse for contemporary authors. Hence I was a little disappointed to discover that the plot of Sebastian Barry’s recent novel , ‘On Canaan’s Side’ (which admittedly I haven’t yet read) sounds as if it has a great deal in common with ‘Secret Scriptures’. I suppose there is justification, however, if an author is exploring further into a particular theme, or continuing a story, particularly if the end result is of high quality.

The Mysteries of Orange Buddleja

I have two orange-flowered Buddleja (or Buddleia - apparently the 'j' form is the more correct) bushes in my garden,  both of which started out as cuttings from an ‘escapee’ growing in local woodland. This variety, is, according to Wikipedia, a hybrid called  Buddleja × weyeriana, the result of a cross between B. globosa × B. davidii. The latter is the purple variety commonly found on waste ground etc, and I avoided it because of its  vigorous growth. But the orange version seems to have a down side – possibly more than one.
Firstly, though its flowers are often visited by bees and flies etc, it does not seem to be well-patronised by butterflies. This is reflected to some extent by a RHS study, though it appears to be the size of the bush and number of flower-heads that matter most to Lepidoptera rather than the species of Buddleja. However, it is known that butterflies and many other insects can detect uv light, and may be guided by it when it comes to choosing plants for food or egg-laying (though scent may be a stronger stimunlus). It may be that B. x weyeriani is not selected because it is a relatively poor reflector of uv light - different species/colours of Buddleja apparently vary quite considerably in this respect.
My two orange Buddleja bushes are planted in different positions - one free-growing in rather poor, slightly acid soil, and the other in a large pot filled with bedding compost. The free-growing bush is thriving and flowering, the pot-bound one is not, though I suspect not because it is pot-bound since the free-growing one was originally in a much smaller pot with poor soil yet did very well. It's obvious that Buddleja species generally do well on poor soil, so my nutrient-rich compost is probably responsible for the difference in growth, though I haven't worked out why (there would be a clear reason in the case of leguminous plants, for example). The pot-bound bush has a companion - a passion-fruit plant (Passiflora caerulea)- which brings me to the second mystery of  B. x weyeriani: the passion-fruit is barely growing at all. The solution is clearly to re-home one or both of them, but I am curious as to why the passion-flower, a healthy, well-rooted plant from a really vigorous parent (sadly, not in my garden!) has fared so badly. I have wondered whether root allelopathy may be to blame, with the Buddleja producing chemicals that inhibit the growth of the passion-flower, however I can find no reference to this online. The free-growing plant doesn not seem to have affected the Hydrangea and Crocosmia plants near it, but that may be because those species are more resistent, or perhaps because any allelotoxins produced drain away more easily. Some experimentation is needed!

Dust to Dust

The origins of dust are many, including the dead cells we human shed continuously. Bearing in mind the annoying accumulation of dust in my own home, it has crossed my mind that some people may shed more dead cells than others, or do so at different rates. Hence dust accumulation within a fairly closed envrionment, say a bedroom in winter, might be a reasonable measure of metabolic rate. But, also bearing in mind the annoying accumulation of dust, albeit less dust, in rooms in my house into which no-one, not even the dog, goes for weeks on end, there are clearly other,  more clandestine, origins of the wretched stuff. Do dust-mites manage to multiply on the most meagre biological remnants? Or is it their own death that I am witnessing when I notice - infrequently, I confess - yet another coating of dust on what should be pristine shelves?

Tokophobia??

Back to the blog after a ridiculously long absence. Will try to resume in a regular manner!

An article in last Saturday’s Guardian (20.11.10) has prompted me to put key-strokes to blog: it was about ‘tokophobia’, the fear of childbirth. This was a new term for me, and took me by surprise. Surely most births entail total agony unless analgesia has been liberally administered: being afraid of such suffering seems quite reasonable to me, and hardly constitutes a ‘condition’ that needs a special name.
I have often wondered about the evolutionary significance of birth pain. I hope –like to think – that birth is not such a significant trauma for most mammals (except for theinfants being born), though it may be in the case of some domesticated/inbred animals. The sort of desperate, protracted labour experienced in a human birth would seem to confer many disadvantages: it weakens the mother, prevents her from obtaining food, makes her vulnerable to predators etc. But perhaps there are advantages, too: for example, the energy invested in childbirth might cause a mother to value her infant more. It’s likely that in some cases knowledge of the pain involved ensures that pregnancy is postponed until the urge for motherhood is strong, but that would hardly the case in prehistory and is still not likely for the vast majority of ‘modern’ women – ie. they have no choice in the matter.