I would just like to say how dedicated you must be to making yourself seem intimidating and manly. Your tailing of my mother and I all the way to a supermarket and your subsequent blocking of our exit was truly an act of deepest commitment to your reputation as an asshole. Even more so, considering that the only reason you did this was because you had to slow down on a roundabout while we pulled into another lane. I can only imagine, from your self-satisfied smirk, that you felt immensely clever and powerful, as you attempted to intimidate us. Your brain cell must have been firing when you chose to drive on after my mother made a call on her mobile, which you presumably thought was to the police.
It’s a pity there wasn’t a spare brain cell to remind you that the name of your employer’s company was written on three sides of your van.
I found the above picture on the internet, and I’m in a science mood today so
*takes science brain out of cupboard, wipes off dust, puts in head*
I am going to be informing all of you in a condescending and thoroughly irritating science-rant as to why the above picture is wrong. You have been warned.
Here’s a link to where I found it. They want you to pick which of the hormones you’d want to have. I have no issue with that.
I do have an issue, however, with the information you get given to help you decide. Actually, they’re all right ALL WRONG. SO WRONG.
OK, I can see where the ‘happy’ part of serotonin comes from. Unfortunately, they omit the minor detail that, sans serotonin, you can watch yourself spiral into a depressive slump. Have fun with that one.
The only part of the dopamine one they got a bit right was the ‘passion’ part. Although
*switches on loudspeaker and clears throat*
UNDERSTATEMENT OF THE YEAR.
*switches off loudspeaker* Thank you.
Normal levels of dopamine are fine, and they’re necessary for a lot of brain functions. However, elevate those levels and one of the things you get is aggression. Also schizophrenia
Yeah, I don’t see love anywhere in that.
Also, too little and you get Parkinson’s.
Finally, acetylcholine. I have no idea where these particular ‘functions’ came from, but they’re all wrong. Acetylcholine is a neurotransmitter. It’s main function is to transport impulses from the synaptic knob *snigger* of one neurone through the synaptic cleft *double snigger* and into another neurone.
And dreaming, memory and learning are all actually controlled by dopamine.
So, it’s a lovely idea, but it might have worked a bit better if they’d got the functions right.
Started this post in November, and it’s now December. That’s why the dates are off.
November: ah, what a glorious time to be going on long rambles, kicking up fallen leaves and finishing it off with a nice mug of hot chocolate by the fire.
England in November: ‘aaargh’ as you pump water out of the back of the house, dig more ditches to try to counteract the rising water levels and then sit a close to the woodburner as possible while your front slowly oven-roasts and your back freezes.
In case you didn’t notice, it’s raining.
Taking the horses out yesterday, my mother and I had to navigate The Great Road River (we didn’t dare brave going onto the bridleways) and do all the tacking up while the horses stood in 3 inches of water.
You may also have noticed that the house flooded. The area of the house that flooded is already damp and the floor isn’t what you’d call…’floor’. In fact, it’s more like dust, which means that the whole storage room at the back is now a soggy mud-pit.
Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against a healthy shower of rain. Splashing through puddles is one of the greatest things you can ever do, in my opinion, and stepping into a puddle and find yourself ankle-deep in mud, well; that’s just an added bonus.
It took two hours to get to school the other day. Two hours. This was a journey that should have taken twenty minutes. As it was, we had to make a detour through two different motorways and the next county, to get from Gloucester to Cheltenham (the towns are three miles apart).
The rain has now stopped (mostly) and the river Severn is no longer two miles wider than normal and doesn’t resemble the Amazon Basin during an ice-age any more. Instead, the temperature has dropped by 15 degrees (Celsius).
I am not allowed to complain, because I have whinged enough about the rain, and I quite like the frost. Except that my house does not have insulation or much in the way of central heating, so I’m writing this while wearing two pairs of trousers, two pairs of socks, a fleece and a hoodie and my hands are still purple.