Sunday 17 June 2012

It's where Listerine comes from.

 Glasgow has a good reputation for medical research normally, but in the last few months, Glasgow has been producing some really amazing medical science. At the beginning of the year, creating a 3D map of a cancer protein, in April building and developing a fabricator that can make drugs on demand, and last week a therapy for stroke patients that's had modest success.
 This isn't anything unusual, given that this is the city Joseph Lister did his pioneering work in antisceptics. The Hunterian museum at Glasgow univeristy has some of his medical props behind a glass case that you can go and see, if you can navigate your way through the byzantine cloisters of Glasgow university, and I would recommend it; Glasgow university is where sanitation in the hospital theatre got down to business.
File:Joseph Lister 1902.jpg
Joseph Lister.
 Joseph Lister was born into a Quaker family in Upton, Essex, 5th April 1827. As a Quaker, he suffered institutional prejudice, and following a good educational display in maths,  science, and languages, went on to do art at the University of London (one of the few places he was allowed to go to). By the end, he came out with an Honours in Medecine and entered the Royal college of Surgeons aged 26. In 1854, he became friend and assistant to James Syme of the Edinburgh Royal infirmary.
 So, he essentially had an extensive apprenticeship in the world of surgery. In time, he became professor of Surgery at Glasgow university, and what struck him most was 'ward fever' - patients dying not from the trauma of surgery (no anaesthetic), but from something else.
 Like all good scientists, he didn't work in isolation. Others had noticed. Florence Nightingale famously made a connection between bad hygiene and mortality rates. However, less known to history was the work by a Hungarian doctor called Ignaz Semmelweiss. He argued that if a doctor went from one patient to another after doing surgery, that doctor would pass on to the next visited patient a disease. He recommended washing hands in Calcium Chloride between each patient. He was virtually ignored, and tragically died of blood poisoning in 1865. However, he had been on the right track and under his watch mortality rates dropped from 12% to 1%.
 At this time, Louis Pasteur and John Snow had developed the idea that bacteria were the cause of diseases, and these bacteria could be spread through the air or by liquid. It didn't take much of a leap for Lister to conclude that the deaths in hospitals were being caused by the transmission of bacteria to a body weakened by surgery. He concluded that the wound itself had to be cleansed. He covered the wound with a piece of lint covered in carbolic acid. He used this on patients who had a compound fracture. This is where the broken bone had penetrated the skin, leaving an exposed wound. This usually lead to gangrene and then death. Lister covered the wound made with lint soaked in carbolic acid, severely reducing deaths from this.
 Lister then invented a machine, which you can see in the Hunterian, that would spray a fine mist of carbolic acid around during surgery, and he became famous for reducing post-surgery deaths overall.
 The old, decaying, relics at the Hunterian just look like any other Victorian mad-scientist equipment, but they aren't. It's countless how many people were saved by this machine and its descendents. It's people like Joseph Lister who took a conservative, ossified, important branch of medicine kicking and screaming into a new mindset, where high levels of avoidable death just weren't acceptable anymore. The Victorians were both cool and weird - that the establishment fought against progress like this, in the face of good scientific evidence, shows how cliquey they were, even though they purported to be objective rationalists.
 Joseph Lister died on the 10th February 1912, leaving the world a much better place than when he came into it, and for that his memory is honoured, and why Glasgow loves to claim him as one of our own.

Deep-fried anything.

 As a Glaswegian, I have never seen a deep-fried mars bar. Honest. Friends from outside Scotland find this hard to believe, as it's one of the things we're famous for. It does sound like I'm lying to protect the reputation of the city (and, by extension, my own), but I'm really not. However our chip-shops do deep-fry pizzas, which they do put on the menu, so it's hard to believe that it's an urban myth.
It looks like something that normally lives fifteen fathoms down.
 According to a 2004 study by the NHS, 22% of Scottish takeaways did them. I've been in many takeaways, usually drunk, and I've never seen it on the menu anywhere. According to some fairly solid classroom rumour when I was at uni, you have to "ask" for it and provide your own Mars bar (it's like everyone involved knows, deep down, that it's not something to advertise), or any sweets that you bring with you. For example, at Easter they will apparently deep fry a cadburys cream egg.
 And that's the limit of my knowledge; a deep-fried Mars bar is one of those things I could never bring myself to ask for. In terms of health, it can't be as bad as deep-fried pizza or the bio-hazard they call British takeaway kebabs, but it's like Buckfast wine (a brand of caffeinated fortified wine). There's so many negative connotations that it would feel wrong to publicly purchase.
 Although deep-fried mars bars have yet to be linked to street violence, they symbolise our historically bad health record, and they are historical. When a foodstuff gets linked with a place, and it becomes famous, even when the foodstuff disappears from widespread use it can stay associated with that place. Whilst I'm not saying that Burns suppers a century from now will have the ceremonial deep-fried confectionary dish, I do think that they will be associated with Glasgow for at least a few decades more (the first one was reportedly sold in 1995 in Stonehaven, Aberdeen, but it almost certainly dates earlier). Like Chicken Tikka Massala, for better or worse, it's now forever a classic Glasgow dish.

Saturday 16 June 2012

Super Trouping for Glaswegians.

 Super Trooper, the ABBA song. It's one I, like everyone else, have heard many times. I vaguely knew the lyrics, but I was totally oblivious that Glasgow appears in them!




"Super Trouper beams are gonna blind me
But I won't feel blue
Like I always do
'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you

I was sick and tired of everything
When I called you last night from Glasgow
All I do is eat and sleep and sing..."

 I've re-read the lyrics to try and find some meaning, but can't. I think our proud city was just used randomly, because it had enough syllables to fit into the tune. Which on the one hand is good as it papers over Glasgow's problems circa 1980, but on the other hand it's not easy to make out - I've heard that song a fair few times, and I had no idea. BBC4 are repeating every top of the pops from the 70s onwards, Super Trooper was on for weeks recently, and I still didn't hear it! It could be subliminal advertising, but Glasgow City Council have never been that devious or influential.