Issue Twenty Four, this twenty-first day of December, 2004
(Shortest Day)
Always two there must be - a master and a student
Avast ye scurvy dogs!
Five years under the iron thumb of Sauron in the darkest of all dark towers has not left me unscathed, I am sure. And yet in the most grim depths of winter, even this longest night as the red smoke of Barad Dûr rises from the incinerator chimney, there yet remains a small spark of humanity within my blackened heart, that glows brighter with good news.
I did not record in these chronicles how my very young apprentice went back to the Land Down Under. Fifteen months into a two year post-doc and he gave up, unable to stand the strain. Left his project as it was about to bear fruit (and like anyone was going to continue with it) for brighter skies and warmer climes. Quitter. Studmuffin is allegedly writing up, the Honorable Companion is as unscrutable as ever (although he did have a scrut about which I shall talk later), Grasshopper's tongue is brown from all the licking and the Prussian army is tightening its grip on the Sudetenland.
But we had a lab meeting today (in Clare Hall, followed by lunch) and finally I recognized a spark of independent thought, even of rebellion, from - of all people - the good Doctor. Yes, our tame medic has seen through the bullshit and has realized just what he's got himself into. Yup, the Doctor is now the target, the focus of such phrases as 'I don't mean to be perjorative, but' and 'We're in a crisis situation' and 'You must understand that. . .' For myself, I'm torn between lending support and sitting back and enjoying the show. You guys know what it's like when Sauron fixates on you, like a terrier with its willy stuck in your sock, and the blessed relief when he lets go and ejaculates over someone else. I have taken the Doctor aside and explained some of the more 'difficult' aspects of Sauron's personality. This is a relationship I have to work at - it could be fun.
We keep hearing about native gels and beta-octyl wotsit (although it worked for someone so we'll never hear the last of it) and - yes, you guessed - ammonium sulphate precipitation. Sauron actually offered to try that method for 'purifying' proteins, an event eagerly anticipated but unfortunately not yet manifest. I'll try and remember to take photographs. There was another MRC art exhibition with crap paintings and worse wine (really, it was foul), and the Honorable Companion is cloning everything in sight and publishing Nature papers all over the shop, so you can see that nothing much has changed.
More madness that has just unforgotten itself; Sauron takes deionized water home for his steam iron (okayyy . . .) and adds Tris base to 'neutralize' it. Never mind that the pH of the deionized water is 6.5 - 7 (I checked it. But I wasn't going to tell him) but would you want Tris drying onto your clothes? Maybe it's cheaper than starch. He keeps going on about that crystal that he lost at Doomsbury (and blaming Helen for), the phrase 'crystals by Christmas' is as common and about as meaningful as 'home for Christmas' in 1914 and we're no longer looking for a 'pombe person'. Nope, that's so last millennium; now he walks around the lab saying 'I need a physicist. Waaaaa'.
For a little while there I did think that having a woman in the lab would result in increased tidiness (the 'Rosanna effect') but even Teutonic efficiency is helpless against the towers of used agar plates on Grasshopper's bench. Ew, stinky. Lieselotte then got distracted by the hotblock. Apparently she was concerned that the hotblock being set to 100°C rather than 95°C would make a big difference to her SDS-treated protein samples. Yes, it's boiling. Your point?
The Korean I mentioned in my last epistle (I hereby dub him 'Soo Nish', because that's not his real name but is sufficiently close to it, and has comedy value) keeps humming. I wonder if he's been earthed correctly. Maybe we should get him checked for electrical safety.
So, yeah, the scrut. Picture, for a moment, the Honorable Companion. Meticulous, organized, independent and above all, reliable. Got him? Right. He left one Thursday evening to go and stay in London to catch a flight to Washington DC from Heathrow on the Friday. Sauron Goes to London on the Saturday to catch similar so he can meet H.C. at the American Society for Crappy Biology meeting. Sunday morning I get a call on my mobile - I'm driving at the time so it goes to voicemail. It's Sauron.
'Richard,' intones the all-too familiar voice, 'I'm sorry to disturb you at home but . . .' and it turns out that he can't find H.C. He, allegedly, has not checked in, and the airline is not telling Sauron that he boarded the flight (which they're not supposed to). 'I'm afraid he may be sick or injured' and I have this mental picture of H.C. lying face down in a pool of blood in an alleyway off King's Cross somewhere. Not content with screwing up my Sunday, Sauron has also called his son and the Doctor, and given them my number, and suddenly my mobile's battery is getting a solid seeing-to.
So, I get the Doctor to call the hospital and check for A&E admissions, go to the lab and find H.C.'s home 'phone number, call it (no reply), call the HoD - or rather his wife because he is in Japan - and field another three calls from Sauron. We're drawing a blank, and I have this tantalizing image of H.C. packing it all in and going back to Japan to present a new series of Takeshi's Castle. But the thought is unworthy and I call Cambridge Plod (who, by the way, are a complete waste of taxes) and explain the situation. I get them to record a 'concern' but not 'missing' (yet) and then there's another call from Sauron and he promises not to call again until Monday and 'I'm sorry for disturbing your Sunday'.
He lies, of course. He always lies - half past eight that evening he calls again to say that H.C. is fine and well, always has been, and is in DC in the hotel room next door. Never mind that I've just sparked an internation missing person report, he could have hung around in the corridor and seen him!
I did get a very funny email from H.C. later in the week. Here's an excerpt:
I don't think they didn't keep records - for
example when I checked out the hotel I found that my name, arrival
time and the number of nights to stay had been kept in the computer of
the hotel. So why is it that Sauron couldn't find that I was in the
hotel (actually I was staying in the room next to Sauron's room) when
he asked the hotel people? This is beyond my comprehension.
Because of this, Sauron's attitude towards me was very rude when he
saw me at the meeting.
This makes me realize the harsh reality that Sauron trusts the stupid
airline and hotel people more than he trusts me. This is deeply
unpleasant. Perhaps the airline and hotel people refused to tell him
the truth because the way he asked them was so rude (sorry, this is
joke).
And with that, adios, amigos. I have treated the Doctor and the Honorable Companion to a full description of control freakishness as it pertains to Sauron, and thus have discharge my pastoral duties. Tomorrow is my last day at Mordor before I go on holiday for Christmas. The moment I get home, I wil be turning my mobile offski, and leaving it that way until 5th January.
Piece of mind to you all at Christmas,
Richard