A Wiseman Once Said....

"We are twelve billion light years from the edge, That's a guess. No one can ever say it's true. But I know that I will always be with you" - Nine Million Bicycles, Katie Melua

 

Professor Richard Wiseman and celebrated science author Simon Singh were listening to Katie Melua's 2005 top ten hit Nine Million Bicycles but something didn't sit right with Singh. We're not twelve billion light years from the edge (we're 13.7 million light years from the edge of the observable universe), it's not a guess (it's a good estimate with well defined error bars), it's not that nobody can ever say it's true (scientists do say it's true whilst acknowledging later refinement may be needed), and Katie doesn't know for certain that she will always love 'you' (she's only working on the present available information, people change, people fall out of love).

Brilliantly, when Wiseman and Singh approached Melua about her 'bad science' she got very angry. Not with them. They're nice people. Angry with herself. Melua loves science and is very very keen on astrology particularly. So she rerecorded a version with the lyrics to changed reflect Singh and Wiseman's suggested amendments.

Last night at The Duke of Greenwich, with Greenwich Skeptics in the Pub, a little bit of the amended version was played and everybody in the place, I have no doubt, came away from the experience with a more positive opinion of Katie Melua than they did before. Many would have had no opinion on her beforehand. I was ambivalent at best. But now I know that the Georgian born pop singer is a good sport.

I'd also wager that everybody who attended last night's talk, How To Turn A Tea Towel Into A Chicken And Other Stories, would have come away with a very positive view of Professor Richard Wiseman too. It being a Skeptics audience most of them would already have had one but Wiseman's talk was interesting, funny (I LOL'd quite a few times) and didn't pander to the audience. Yes, he's a skeptic. But he's not cynical and he believes that those who have faith in the paranormal have a lot to tell us. What that is may not be about ghosts, telepathy, or levitation but is more likely about how the human brain works and how we make sense of the world.

Don't call believers stupid, basically. Calling people stupid doesn't tend to change their minds (I see people on social media who still believe that constantly telling people off gets results or that appealing to evidence will change the political position of people who didn't arrive at that position due to evidence in the first place) and is, quite simply, very rude. Not something you could accuse the cheerful and avuncular Wiseman of. When he makes a joke (as he does often) it's usually at his own expense.

That's because he's confident in himself. Those who pick on others usually aren't. It's a good job that Wiseman is confident in himself because last night's talk was, more or less - give or take a magic trick or two here and a bit of audience participation there, an autobiography of his life and career and what a life and career it's been. As a child, Wiseman's hero was the Hungarian-American escapologist and illusionist Harry Houdini (1874-1926). Inspired by Houdini, Wiseman began doing magic (for which read magic tricks) but at the same time he also became interested in psychology and read Dale Carnegie's influential 1936 self-help book How To Win Friends And Influence People. To be a successful magician, he reasoned, one needed to be likeable.

Soon he'd be combining his interests and magic and psychology and there were certain things that piqued his interest further. One of which was an upside down photo of Margaret Thatcher that, upside down, looks very real but turned round soon becomes apparent isn't. We see what we expect to see and not what's actually there (see also the rabbit/duck illusion - below) and that's not a fault of ours, but actually one of our great plus points. There is a lot in our field of vision most of the time. We have become very adept at filtering out what we don't need to process, what we already know is there. It's a time saving exercise essentially and it's one that can cleverly be exploited by illusionists.

Wiseman attened University College London and joined the Magic Circle (happily and all too conveniently very near each other) before moving on to Edinburgh and then taking up his current position at the University of Hertfordshire where he looks into paranormal/skeptical stuff. Something he seems to be having a great deal more success with than the time he toured as the Captain Fearless Magic Show.

He's looked into, and lightly debunked, telepathy, deja vu, precognition, ghosts, and deja vu all over again! A photo of 'ghostly energy' on the Royal Mile in Edinburgh was proved to be a just the photographer's spectacles blurred in the image and other 'ghost' photos were even worse. Amongst the ghosts were a television set, a man smoking, and a bottle of Mr Muscle. Pareidolia is a common event where people see faces in things that aren't faces and Wiseman ran through a few of these stretching from bathroom taps and holdalls to slippers and roofs and, of course, that evergreen favourite:- the face of Jesus on a slice of toast.

Another investigation that Wiseman got involved in was that of people who believed they could use the power of their minds, meditation, to walk barefoot over hot coals. These firewalkers would walk over ten to fifteen feet of hot coals as evidence but it turned out it's quite easy to walk that distance over hot coals as long as you do it fast - and there are very good reasons why you would do it fast.

Wiseman and his colleagues challenged the firewalkers to walk over sixty feet of hot coals barefoot and, spoiler alert, none of them succeeded. Their meditation, the power they believed they could exercise over their own bodies, didn't work for them. One person who had signed up for the challenge dropped out at the last moment saying that her guardian angel, the one that would protect her during the firewalking challenge, had deserted her. Bastard timing, guardian angel, bastard timing.

Then there was the supposedly telepathic dog who it was said could tell when his owner was returning home. Camera film showed the dog running to the window to look out of it just at the same time as his owner announced she was returning home from a restaurant. Sounds good but further investigation showed the dog running to the window to look out of it on so many occasions that it would have been surprising if the dog hadn't been looking out of the window at just the moment it was required to do so to 'prove' telepathy.

Another subject that Wiseman took on was that of 'financial astronomy'. That's when people use the 'birth' dates of companies and their horoscopes to make decisions regarding investing in them. Wiseman got a random five year old to choose for investors and not only was his success rate far far batter than that of the supposed financial astronomers, it was better than mainstream investment advisors too.

All of the work that Wiseman has carried out has been done with both a passion for science but also a keen enthusiasm to entertain as well as inform. He doesn't look down at people who see the world differently as him. He looks across at them. Sees what they believe and tries to interpret it in a way that makes sense, scientifically, to him. At the same time he recognises that emotion plays a huge part in the decisions that we as human beings make and that we are not always the rational animals we like to sometimes think we are.

He's written quite a few books (Jesus Christ Explained sounds a good one and even better for the complaint he got that in the book he failed to explain anything about Jesus Christ) and perhaps I should read some of them. For now, I'm glad I attended one of his talks (the second I've been to - there was one at The Monarch in Camden some years ago). Thanks to Jade, Paula, Tim, David, and Michael for joining me, thanks to Goddard's Pie & Mash for tasty food beforehand, thanks to The Duke of Greenwich, thanks to Professor Chris French for hosting, and thanks to Professor Richard Wiseman for a great evening and, of course, a great career. Long may it continue.

Fleapit revisited:Compartment No. 6.

Snow, vodka, babushki, Yuri Gagarin, bribery, and balalaikas - or at least talk of balalaikes. We can't be anywhere else but Russia and in the 2021 film Compartment No. 6 (shown on BBC4/iPlayer, directed by Juho Kousmanen, based on a book by Rosa Liksom, and recommended to me by my mate Adam) that is exactly where we are - and where we stay.

Specifically on the slow (30 hours plus overnight stops) from Moscow to Murmansk in the Arctic Circle. It's the 1990s and Finnish archaeology student Laura (Seidi Haarla) is taking the journey because she wants to see some 10,000 year old petroglyphs. Joining her in compartment number six is the initially taciturn Russian miner Lyokha (Yura Borisov). The two of them, it seems, have nothing in common but as it's a feature length film we know that will, surely, change.

For better or worse we can't be sure. Laura writes her journals, makes films with her camcorder, dines on salad, and talks about literature. Lyokha drinks vodka, goes on nationalistic rants (Russia beat the Nazis, Russia went to the moon, Russia, Russia, Russia), and suggests that Laura may well be a prostitute who is travelling to Murmansk to sell her pussy. The city is, after all, a "shithole". What other reason would a young woman have to visit there?

Initially, Laura had planned to visit with her girlfriend Irina (Dinara Drukarova) but Irina has pulled out. She's too busy. We get a feeling that Irina is often too busy to do things with Laura, to check in with Laura, or even to find time to talk to Laura. Irina's life, we get the distinct impression, revolves entirely around Irina.

At first, Laura (understandably) doesn't want to share a compartment with Lyokha and when the train stops at St. Petersburg she seriously considers returning to Moscow. But during another stop, in Petrozavodsk, Lyokha sees off a guy who is hassling Laura and the two of them head off to get drunk on moonshine with a characterul elder lady who Lyokha is friends with.

Inevitably, they start to get on. They laugh at each other, they tease each other, they comfort each other, and they infuriate each other. But will this lead to friendship or it will lead to love? Will it lead to both or will it lead to neither? Will Lyokha reveal a dark secret? Will Laura? Certainly when they're briefly joined by fellow passenger Sasha (Tomi Atalo) we can sense Lyokha's jealousy and resentment. Sasha is a fellow Finn and a widely travelled backpacker who plays Love Is All Around on an acoustic guitar so is either a great guy or a total arsehole depending on how you feel about such people.

The first hour of the film, though interesting and beautifully shot - it's a grim ol' looking train line but it's not without its own austere beauty - is fairly uneventful and though it stays low-key (it's not a film aiming to compete with Avengers:Endgame) it starts to become more emotionally rewarding as Laura and Lyokha begin to open each other. Or at least her to him. He gives very little away as she starts to talk about her life, her relationship with Irina, and her thoughts.

The film starts brilliantly with a blast of Roxy Music's Love Is The Drug (a clue?) and ends equally fantastically with Desireless's breathless eighties disco smash Voyage, Voyage. What happens between those two songs isn't earth shattering but it is very moving. Though this journey is clearly only a small part of the lives of each of the protagonists you get the feeling it is meaningful trip, and - more importantly - encounter, for both of them and one that may just, in some way, change the course of each of their lives.

 

 

The Thames Path XIII:Abingdon to Oxford (No Surprises).

"Such a pretty house and such a pretty garden. No alarms and no surprises" - No Surprises, Radiohead

 

Radiohead come from Abingdon and three of them were born in Oxford so yesterday's Thames Path walk (the thirteenth stage and the final one before we get into a brace of two dayers and round the whole thing off) was, in some ways, a Radiohead walk. Although when Thom Yorke sings about pretty houses and pretty gardens (not to mention jobs that slowly kill you, carbon monoxide handshakes, and hearts like landfill) it is with a magnificently sour note.

The pretty houses and pretty gardens we walked through yesterday were simply just that. It was one of the, possibly the most, beautiful stretches of the Thames so far (admittedly the glorious May weather could have been a factor) and it was also one of the shortest we've done (even factoring in a wrong turn or two). Perhaps because of that it also ended up being possibly the merriest stage of the journey so far. 

Well, Oxford on a Saturday evening in the sunshine is an opportunity not to be sniffed at. I'd woken early, as so often, picked up a Guardian, got the train to London Bridge and a couple of tubes to Paddington where I met Pam. The two of us took a fast train to Oxford where Shep was waiting outside the station. The three of us then took a taxi to Abingdon. More expensive than getting the bus but a lot quicker.

 

On arrival in Abingdon, the town was certainly showing its best side. We walked down past the 17th century County Hall, the upmarket apartments that used to be a jail (sorry, gaol), and the tempting looking - but it was way too early - Broad Face and Nag's Head pubs. We'd been into The Nag's last time.

Instead we dropped down to the bustling Abingdon Riverside Cafe on an island in the river. All the outdoor seating was taken but we'd be outdoors most of the day so the three of us took a couple of tables, ordered, and waited for Naomi, Sharon, and Jason to arrive. There was a forty minute wait on food so I had a pack of Pom-Bears (oh yes) to tide me over. When it eventually arrived the veggie breakfast was decent enough. Shep happily eating my tomatoes for me and leaving me room to indulge in a delightful couple of scoops of gelato before, after some 'fannying around' we all headed off.

In the wrong direction. It wasn't completely our fault. Colin, sadly an absentee this weekend, had warned us of diversions but we thought there'd be signs. There were but they'd fallen down the back of a wall. So after a lovely little stretch down to the weir looking at various waterfowl as well as a shag/cormorant we met with another pair of walkers who told us we couldn't cross the weir and the path would soon come to a dead end.

Back to Abingdon, back over the bridge, and down a quiet road and into a little alleyway which brought us out into Abbey Meadows with the ruins of the abbey behind a wall to our left. The meadows were busy with kids running around and playing on swings. An ice cream van did a good trade. I popped into the loo and said I'd catch the others up but while I was doing so (catching the others up, not dropping the kids off at the pool) I got an initially confusing call from Sharon.

It turned out she had dropped out and wanted to know when our first pub stop would be and where. We were some way off it but I gave her the name and an estimated time and, remarkably, we'd only be ten minutes later than planned in getting there but for now there was lots of lovely paths, beautiful countryside, and gorgeous river to admire as we spread out, closed together again, and spread out again. Naomi and Shep often leading the way. Although it's not a race. It's never a race.

 

 

It was a really lovely, flat, sunny stretch with occasional cover of trees and even a little dingly dell section. No major sights. Just fantastic walking all the way to Sandford-on-Thames. Not sure if we saw Colin's place but we did stop at the delightful King's Arms pub. Sharon was waiting in the garden with a glass of Pimm's that had so much fruit in it that Carmen Miranda could have fashioned it into a hat.

I took a lager and inevitably a highly enjoyable two pint mistake was made as we chatted about famous Busters (none of them are actually called Buster, it's a nickname not a real name) and various other nonsense. Then we had to pass back across and away from the river for a bit. Another diversion. This time along a cycle path that runs parallel to the railway and, after a fashion, rejoins the river again.

Shep and Naomi again got ahead while Pam, Sharon, and Jason brought up the rear. I tried to hold the middle but was, to be honest, quite happy just being in my own space for some time. Just taking in the wonderful countryside and beautiful weather. I love sunny days.

It wasn't long before we reached the second pub. The Isis Famhouse (not that ISIS) has a huge beer garden and it was predictably very busy. We managed to get a seat though and I must say it's quite an impressive place. Oxford rowing teams and cyclists passed by on the river and its path while we enjoyed another cheeky one before beginning on our final stretch of the day. In to Oxford proper.

Of course, this stretch was getting busier and at times the Thames split into two or more, there were cute bridges (both wooden and stone), the confluence of the Thames with the Cherwell, unusually shaped boats, more rowers, some fancy houses, and, far quicker than I expected, the dreaming spires of Oxford itself.

Rob had agreed to meet us in The Head of the River pub (where he'd take over from Naomi - they have kids, priorities) and had a pint as he'd decided he wouldn't be running the Town & Gown 10k in Oxford the following day after all. A fantastic yakkage was had in the pub as Rob told Pam, and reminded me, of a rather worrying story about children's television presenter Gaz Top. And another far more famous story about Rolf Harris.

The book we're using (sort of - the river kind of does the heavy lifting itself) as a guide provided us with a suggested walk around Oxford and all its wonderful history and amazing buildings but I'd been to Oxford many times before (remarkably, it was Sharon's first visit - she needs to go back and check out the city itself properly) and even arranged a TADS walk in the city back in 2018. Not sure how that can already be seven years ago.

Instead we sped up to Chutney's in the city centre where we had a couple more beers (or at least some of us did) and I had a masala dosa which was tasty but I was a bit bloated on beer by that point. Then it was a rush back to the station, a train to Paddington, Bakerloo line to Elephant & Castle, 63 bus home to fall asleep in front of the television with an untouched bottle of beer in front of me.

Next time we'll convene in Oxford and, over two days, head to Lechlade via Newbridge. That's a long one. A very long one. So we'll need to put some training in. Looking forward to it though. Hope it's as much fun (though likely a very different kind of fun) as yesterday's walk was. There may have been no (or relatively few) surprises but sometimes that's for the best. Thanks to Pam, Shep, Naomi, Sharon, Jason, and Rob for making the day such fun and thanks to Sharon and Pam to contributing photos to this blog. Thirteen stages done. Four remaining. Sit pax in valle tamesis.