- Email: [email protected]
Mary L Forsling
DISSECTING ROOM
LIFELINE Mary L Forsling Mary L Forsling is a physiology graduate from London University, UK, with a PhD and a DSc. She is Professor of Neuroendocrinology at Guy’s, King’s, and St Thomas’ Medical School. What is the best piece of advice you have received, and from whom? Only the best is good enough—given to Tim Biscoe, an ex-Professor of mine and passed on to me. How do you relax? By being creative—anything from cookery to jewellery making, for which I have my own hallmark registered at the London Assay Office. What is your greatest regret? My lack of self-confidence, which resulted in my hanging back on many occasions, preventing me from contributing as fully as I was able. Do you believe there is an afterlife? There is for me an unresolved tension between the scientific requirement for proof and the human requirement for security. What is your favourite book? Short stories fit into a busy life— hard to chose between Somerset Maugham and H H Munro. What is your greatest fear? That one of my daughters will die before I do. What is your worst habit? Trying to squeeze 65 minutes of activity into 60. Do you believe in capital punishment? No, and not only because the person might be innocent. Do you apply subjective moral judgements in your work? For science, the moral judgements apply to the way knowledge is obtained and used, not the knowledge itself, but I try to be objective. What part of your work gives you the most pleasure? Spending time in the library, browsing through sweet smelling journals and coming out brimful of ideas. What is the least enjoyable job you’ve ever had? Working with someone who was often in error, but never in doubt.
1216
Say it again, Sam few months ago there was a serious bus crash in France in which several UK school children were injured. It occurred in the Dordogne, and what interested me was the way TV newscasters pronounced the name of the region. Unfortunately, I don’t have the symbols on my word processor to show how it should be pronounced but suffice to say that they almost all referred to it as the “Dordoin”. Now, I don’t really know why I should have been so surprised about this, since most British people refer to Boulogne, as “Bouloin”. However, this sort of thing is not just confined to foreign names. I used to know a chap who came from Doncaster and he always became enraged when people called it, as many do, “Dongcaster”. I can still hear him remonstrating: “No! No! No! It’s DoNcaster, DoNcaster!”. We Scots are not immune from this either and many in the west of Scotland refer to Birmingham as “Burmingham”. And I must confess my own failings in the pronunciation stakes. Although I am pretty good on place names, my Glasgow upbringing makes it impossible for me to pronounce “film” and “poem” correctly, or at least as they should be pronounced in standard English. I remember a friend of mine who was a lecturer in English language at one of our very distinguished civic universities (Burmingham, since you ask) trying to teach me. I had a few tries then had to tell him: “No, no, Andy, I would be a traitor to my heritage if I did not say “fillum” and “poyum”. And so it remains to this day. But to return to foreign places, these can be a major difficulty for the unprepared. I have some old friends who went on a motoring holiday to Germany and wanted to return through France. They drove on and on along the autobahn looking for a sign to France, but all they
A
kept seeing mile after mile (well, kilometre after kilometre, if you must) were signs for some place called “Frankreich”. I kid you not. They only sorted it out when they got into Belgium. That reminds me of an experience I once had in Italy that highlights the real dangers of not having even a smattering of the language. At that time I was actually living in Italy and was at the railway station in Venice, the romantically named Santa Lucia. My attention was drawn to two young Japanese students who were trying to argue with a railway official. I know from personal experience just how hard it can be in a foreign country (and, believe me, Italy is VERY foreign if you are Japanese). Having spent several years in Italy, I was a whiz at Italian and soon discovered the problem. Basically, the poor Japanese students wanted to get a train to Munich in Bavaria to sample the beer there. And, indeed, there is a train from Venice to Munich. The problem was that the place we call Munich is “München” in German, reflecting the fact that a settlement there was started by monks. Unlike English, the Italian language reflects this historical connection and Munich in Italian is “Monaco”. So there was the problem. The Japanese wanted to go to Munich and here was this Italian guy trying to get them to board a train for Monaco, which they knew was in the south of France. I interceded and tried to do my best. Their command of English was much better than their Italian and they eventually got the gist of what I was trying to tell them. However, I did not hang around to see if they actually boarded the train. And in case you are wondering, the Italian for Monaco is...well, “Monaco”, but the two are distinguished as Monaco di Baviera and the Principato di Monaco. Easy, isn’t it? David Jack
THE LANCET • Vol 357 • April 14, 2001
For personal use. Only reproduce with permission from The Lancet Publishing Group.
LIFELINE Mary L Forsling Mary L Forsling is a physiology graduate from London University, UK, with a PhD and a DSc. She is Professor of Neuroendocrinology at Guy’s, King’s, and St Thomas’ Medical School. What is the best piece of advice you have received, and from whom? Only the best is good enough—given to Tim Biscoe, an ex-Professor of mine and passed on to me. How do you relax? By being creative—anything from cookery to jewellery making, for which I have my own hallmark registered at the London Assay Office. What is your greatest regret? My lack of self-confidence, which resulted in my hanging back on many occasions, preventing me from contributing as fully as I was able. Do you believe there is an afterlife? There is for me an unresolved tension between the scientific requirement for proof and the human requirement for security. What is your favourite book? Short stories fit into a busy life— hard to chose between Somerset Maugham and H H Munro. What is your greatest fear? That one of my daughters will die before I do. What is your worst habit? Trying to squeeze 65 minutes of activity into 60. Do you believe in capital punishment? No, and not only because the person might be innocent. Do you apply subjective moral judgements in your work? For science, the moral judgements apply to the way knowledge is obtained and used, not the knowledge itself, but I try to be objective. What part of your work gives you the most pleasure? Spending time in the library, browsing through sweet smelling journals and coming out brimful of ideas. What is the least enjoyable job you’ve ever had? Working with someone who was often in error, but never in doubt.
1216
Say it again, Sam few months ago there was a serious bus crash in France in which several UK school children were injured. It occurred in the Dordogne, and what interested me was the way TV newscasters pronounced the name of the region. Unfortunately, I don’t have the symbols on my word processor to show how it should be pronounced but suffice to say that they almost all referred to it as the “Dordoin”. Now, I don’t really know why I should have been so surprised about this, since most British people refer to Boulogne, as “Bouloin”. However, this sort of thing is not just confined to foreign names. I used to know a chap who came from Doncaster and he always became enraged when people called it, as many do, “Dongcaster”. I can still hear him remonstrating: “No! No! No! It’s DoNcaster, DoNcaster!”. We Scots are not immune from this either and many in the west of Scotland refer to Birmingham as “Burmingham”. And I must confess my own failings in the pronunciation stakes. Although I am pretty good on place names, my Glasgow upbringing makes it impossible for me to pronounce “film” and “poem” correctly, or at least as they should be pronounced in standard English. I remember a friend of mine who was a lecturer in English language at one of our very distinguished civic universities (Burmingham, since you ask) trying to teach me. I had a few tries then had to tell him: “No, no, Andy, I would be a traitor to my heritage if I did not say “fillum” and “poyum”. And so it remains to this day. But to return to foreign places, these can be a major difficulty for the unprepared. I have some old friends who went on a motoring holiday to Germany and wanted to return through France. They drove on and on along the autobahn looking for a sign to France, but all they
A
kept seeing mile after mile (well, kilometre after kilometre, if you must) were signs for some place called “Frankreich”. I kid you not. They only sorted it out when they got into Belgium. That reminds me of an experience I once had in Italy that highlights the real dangers of not having even a smattering of the language. At that time I was actually living in Italy and was at the railway station in Venice, the romantically named Santa Lucia. My attention was drawn to two young Japanese students who were trying to argue with a railway official. I know from personal experience just how hard it can be in a foreign country (and, believe me, Italy is VERY foreign if you are Japanese). Having spent several years in Italy, I was a whiz at Italian and soon discovered the problem. Basically, the poor Japanese students wanted to get a train to Munich in Bavaria to sample the beer there. And, indeed, there is a train from Venice to Munich. The problem was that the place we call Munich is “München” in German, reflecting the fact that a settlement there was started by monks. Unlike English, the Italian language reflects this historical connection and Munich in Italian is “Monaco”. So there was the problem. The Japanese wanted to go to Munich and here was this Italian guy trying to get them to board a train for Monaco, which they knew was in the south of France. I interceded and tried to do my best. Their command of English was much better than their Italian and they eventually got the gist of what I was trying to tell them. However, I did not hang around to see if they actually boarded the train. And in case you are wondering, the Italian for Monaco is...well, “Monaco”, but the two are distinguished as Monaco di Baviera and the Principato di Monaco. Easy, isn’t it? David Jack
THE LANCET • Vol 357 • April 14, 2001
For personal use. Only reproduce with permission from The Lancet Publishing Group.