The curse of the drinking classes

Is work, according to Oscar Wilde. And half of all the quotes worth quoting are Oscar Wilde, according to my Father. It seems that my days of washing clothes, reading Philip Pullman and Kurt Vonnegut novels in the sunshine and blowing the froth off cold bottles of Tusker are numbered: I have gone and got a job.
[If I were clever with computers I would have the music that accompanies the marching of the Stormtroopers in Star Wars playing now, maybe you’ll be good enough to hum it while you read?]
Perhaps I tempted fate too much by stating how I enjoy my employment-free life, or perhaps it was because I was foolish enough to apply for something, but either way there you have it, I have only myself to blame. The School, who employ Suze, advertised 2 posts in malaria research, the eradication of this disease being a stated (and ambitious, commendable etc) aim of the Bill and Melinda Gates foundation, and also part of the UN’s Millennium Development Goals. It is interesting to wonder which of these organisations is, these days, more powerful.
I put in my CV, saying I would be interested in either job, and the School (bless ’em) decided that, in the words of the Beastie Boys; “I got the skills (What skills?) To pay the bills” and offered me the more senior of the two. It’s a malaria treatment study, so the more pedantic amongst us, like myself, could question whether it is really epidemiology – a discipline which usually investigates disease prevention. I suppose that epi’ is literally about the study of diseases and how they spread, and semantics aside the aim of reducing malaria deaths, even among those who are suspected to have the disease, is definitely a good one. It sounds as though I will have a number of other staff “under me”, which is a little intimidating. OK, the idea of even turning up 5 days per week is intimidating, having supervisory responsibilities borders on the terrifying, but deep breath, fingers crossed and here we go. I’ll keep you posted.

On a completely different note: Wildlife. We aren’t as surrounded by beasties as I hoped we would be here, but we do see a few new things now and again. And it is odd, you never know what will impress you the most. The bigger stuff has actually not made that much of an impact on me; monkeys and monitor lizards are lovely, of course, and I am really glad they seem to survive and thrive even close to towns. But the smaller things have been the ones really to take my breath away. Lion fish, sea horses and chameleons are way out on top of my list of favourites at the moment, for having a kind of delicate and detailed beauty that simply doesn’t show up on TV. I can’t say exactly what it is, but even though the BBC have shown me these things many times, to see a real one is genuinely thrilling. I found my first chameleon recently. It was actually crossing the road in front of me during a training ride, so I jammed on the anchors, laid my bike down to obstruct passing traffic and carried him off to the relative safety of a bush. I got bitten pretty hard on the thumb for my trouble (“Oh, now he’s gettin’ really mad” in the words of the sorely missed Steve Irwin), but I would take that any day if it means I get to see another one. I remember David Attenborough apparently being moved almost to tears by pygmy chameleons on Madagascar: At the time I thought it was charming if slightly odd, but now I think it is quite understandable.