Yesterday, my brother-in-law Terry posted me a link to some of the most ridiculous pseudoscientific bullshit it has ever been my pleasure to read.

Paul tells me that these expanding earth theorists are wildly scorned on the Fortean Times messageboards. I expect they are mocked in geology departments all over the world too. I confess I hadn't actually heard this "theory" before. I had been blissfully unaware of its existence. I had hoped that the only branch of geology to be attacked by the nutjobs was palaeontology (I consider anyone who thinks the Earth is 6000 years old and that we were all made out of clay a nutjob). I don't know whether to be relieved that the geophysicists share our pain or dismayed that there are actually people who don't believe in subduction.

It's been five years since I did any real hard-rock geology (not a reference to the music tastes of the scientists, although I have noticed a fair few igneous petrologists are into death metal). I can remember enough of what I learnt to be able to say "Well, what he says about mountains forming is bollocks - the principle of isostasy explains that one rather nicely", but buggered if I could explain it all to non-scientifically-minded readers. I might see what my oiley friends say (although as one of them works for a gas company rather than an oil company does that make her a gassy?).

The guy doesn't see how subduction could start, but he has failed to take mantle convection into account. I'm fairly sure the accepted theory is that mantle convection drives plate tectonics. So I think his starting premise is null and void. He has also failed to take into account the major surface geological processes of orogenesis and erosion, and while he accepts that the Earth is 4.6 billion years old (well, he says 5 billion, but what's 400 million years between nutjobs?) he does not seem to have thought of the fact that there are 4 600 000 000 years there, over which geological events can occur. Things happen on a very slow rate as far as human beings are concerned, and yes, if your tectonic plates are moving at a rate of 2cm per year, then it is perfectly possible to make and destroy entire oceans in the space of 200 million years.

His argument is disjointed, but one of his points seems to be that the continents don't fit together very well, which they are supposed to have done if they were once one large landmass (Pangaea). He uses this to assert that if the Earth's circumference was 1/3 of the size it is now, the pieces all fit perfectly. Now, he's using the shapes of the continents as they look at the current sea level. Everyone in the UK should by now have seen how the outline of Great Britain will look if sea level rises 5m. Sea level has not been constant - it depends on whether there is continental ice or not. So using the outlines of the continents is a very arbitrary method. Better to use the outlines of the continental shelves. And even then, remember that those edges and surfaces have been exposed to the ocean and geological processes for nearly 200 million years. The edges of the jigsaw puzzle are going to be a bit chewed, and might not be as snug a fit as they once were!

Paul tells me, that expanding Earth "theorists" fail to take into account one of the most basic physical/mathematical relationships - density = mass/volume. If you decrease the circumference to 1/3 its present-day value, then you must decrease the volume to 1/9 its present-day value. You must then either decrease the mass to 1/9 its present-day value (I shudder to think what would have happened to the Earth's gravitational field - with that mass we'd probably have accelerated into the Sun) or increase the density to 9 times its present-day value (any physicist want to hazard a guess at what this would do to us astronomically?). The concept is ridiculous.

But just like the creationists, and more recently the intelligent designists (Richard Fortey in the Telegraph would like to call them IDiots), when you try to show them real science, the expanding Earth supporters stick their fingers in their ears and say "Lalala, I'm not listening, lalala". Or if we're lucky, we'll be told that we would say that because we've been taught that subduction occurs like it's gospel.

Next time there's an earthquake in Peru or Pakistan, stop and wonder whether it's occurring because an oceanic plate is subducting deep below the surface (yes yes I know Pakistan is almost land-locked but the Himalayas are what happens when an ocean gets entirely subducted and the continent over the other side of the sea collides with its counterpart), or because the Earth is "growing"...

Ignoring the awful grammatical error in the headline, the Mirror is one of the small number of newspapers to feature the news that some foods still contain too much salt. It is no coincidence that the news has been released during National Salt Week, or that the study was carried out by the Consensus Action on Salt and Health group (see press release). However, I trust the academic integrity of the scientists concerned, and however the data is "spun" it is clear that having 2.5g of salt per 100g in an item of food is quite a lot. Probably too much.

Since October I haven't bought bread - I've been making my own. Until I got the hang of it though, I found myself accidentally missing out an ingredient - salt. The bread tasted okay, but it was obviously lacking in a little bit of salt to bring out the flavour, and I am told that salt is necessary for the action of the yeast (no doubt manifested in the sunken craters that formed on top of my loaves). Now, to make an 800g loaf, the instructions on my flour packets (flour is courtesy of Wessex Mill - they gave us some really yummy flour just before Christmas) tell me to add 1.5 teaspoons of salt. That is, according to various internet conversion programmes, about 7g. So less than 1g per 100g. Phew.

I do wonder whether I could achieve as good a loaf with a low-salt substitute. I can't remember enough university chemistry to be able to work out whether KCl is as effective as NaCl or whether the necessary reaction sites wouldn't be present. I don't like having craters in my bread - the bubbles are also quite often bigger, and the bread is rather flimsy, if I forget to use salt. If any experienced bakers are reading this, I'd be very interested to know if salt substitutes work as well.

I was a little upset to see that crumpets were so full of salt. I adore crumpets, especially served piping hot with butter and honey melted over them. I am trying to eat more healthily (home-made bread and organic vegetables are a start), so that probably makes them a no-no. Unless the same bakers can give me a good recipe for crumpets so I can make my own and try them with less salt...

George W. Bush is going to make his State Of The Union address in a few hours. Last time I watched a SOTU that week's episode of "24" was cancelled, so I have treated them all with a healthy contempt. It seems that Dubya has found himself a green streak:

So, unable to convince him that the planet will die if we don't all cut our fossil fuel use, someone has hit on a clever idea (never mind that my lovely husband was saying this four years ago). How best to get the US to cut down on fuel? Convince the President that it's an issue of national security. If they keep on bombing oil-producing nations, sooner or later those nations will stop supplying oil to the US. Now, as not bombing the oil-producing nations appears not to be an option, the alternative is to find some means of powering the US without importing oil. Enter biofuel, stage right. Now Dubya is all for renewable energy - using gasoline funds terrorism dammit!!

I'm wondering if the War On Terror (oops, sorry, the Long War) could help Bush to adopt other green policies. Suggestions please?

This morning I hand-delivered my PhD application to Birkbeck, University of London. I wasn't expecting to do it, but the one piece of post for me this morning was my transcript from Imperial College - the only piece of supporting paperwork I was waiting on. So fingers crossed I get accepted. I don't know if I will have to attend an interview. Funding isn't an issue, so it's not a certainty by any means.

But it feels so good to be able to say "I've applied for my PhD" rather than "I'm going to apply for my PhD". And all over the tube today I've seen posters for Birkbeck, and every time I've seen them Paul's given me a big hug and told me how proud he is of me. That means a lot to me. For 2.5 years I've felt like a complete failure. So many people in the vert palaeo community still don't know why I had to leave my PhD programme in the USA, and I can't carry on using the assault and complaint as an excuse for not getting back into it.

I am never going to return to the USA as an academic - Josh Smith ruined it for me. But I can be as successful in Europe, so that's where I must make a name for myself. Wish me luck.

I've found it difficult to avoid the Celebrity Big Brother racism row. I read the gutter press for a living so can't get away from "Bigot Brother" headlines. Playing into the hands of the Channel 4 executives, Paul and I have watched the eviction of Jade Goody tonight. I have seen the comments made by Goody. Bollywood star Shilpa Shetty has been bullied horribly, initially because she did not fit in. In a culture where it is "cool" to be ignorant, loutish, bad-mannered and downright stupid, Shetty sticks out like a sore thumb. She is articulate, intelligent, mild-mannered and, let's face it, of a better class of people than Goody. It has turned into a racism row, and I'm sure it's done so as Goody and her cronies have run out of insults. They think they're not racists, but they have told her to "fuck off home", among other things. Sounds a bit like racism to me. It's what bullies do - they gradually hit harder and harder until there's nothing for them to do but go for the really objectionable.

I was bullied all through school, and even suffered once I was a "proper" grown-up. I've put this bullying down to me being different. I come from a VERY middle-class family. I spoke with a southern accent (almost suicidal in a Midlands mining town). I was also of above-average intelligence - I joined Mensa when I was 13. It was meant to help me make friends on my own level, but was just more ammunition for the bullies. I wasn't bullied because I was a bitch, regardless of whether you, the reader, think I am a bitch. I find that bitches tend not to be bullied. They tend to BE bullies. It was purely and simply because my face didn't fit.

It's all difficult to explain without sounding up myself. God knows I don't feel very intelligent anymore, and my accent has morphed over the years to be almost unidentifiable. Northerners think I'm from the south, southerners think I'm from the north. I have surrounded myself with friends of similar backgrounds with a similar outlook on life. It's the only way - to have been "successfully" bullied as a grown woman is embarrassing and a failed experiment in socialising with people from different backgrounds. Success, education and elocution are now things to be scorned - not just on Celebrity Big Brother but in almost every community and particularly in the media.

Shetty has stated that she doesn't think Goody meant it racially. She made up with her earlier today or yesterday. Now, how many people, when asked by their bully whether they think they're being a racist, will say "Actually, yes you are"? I suspect very few. I think she is trying to defuse the situation, and good for her - Shetty has taken the moral high ground by refusing to get confrontational and to descend into abuse and name-calling. I hope the next few days or weeks in the house are more pleasant for her, but I fear she may be subjected to the backlash from friends of Goody for her eviction.

Channel 4 have behaved despicably. But there's no point in me going into that. It's been done enough through the newspapers and internet. I just feel very sorry for Shetty. And everyone who has, on various comment boards and in letters to papers, said that she is stuck up and posh and therefore deserves all she gets, just stop and listen to yourselves. How on earth can having a different background and way of doing things render one a legitimate target for verbal abuse?

Goody was shown in the diary room earlier, snivelling: "People think I'm a racist bitch, and I'm not". No, you are a racist bitch. And the worst racists in the world are the ones who preface their conversations with "I'm not a racist but...". The very worst racists in the world.

I am both delighted and appalled to report that typing in the phrase "pooing on my tits" into Google gives only two website pages, and they're both forms of my blog. I have truly arrived on the internet. My parents are so proud.

I am officially a young fogey. According to a study by Somerfield, published in the Telegraph, among other papers:

I am 20-something, that much is a given. I also live in the London suburbs - Isleworth to be precise. It's as verdant as Ealing but with more planes. As of this year we've started listening to Radio 4 in the morning (I seriously cannot stand any more of Sarah Kennedy and her awful cat noises). At university I was in the Roundheads real ale drinking society, and nearly three years ago Paul and I joined CAMRA. The comfort-over-style clothes thing definitely applies here. But then I've never been that fashionable. I despair of the clothes available at the moment. The only jeans are skinny fit, which I refuse to wear on account of never having seen a woman in skinny jeans and knee-high boots who didn't look like she was off to audition for "Pirates Of The Caribbean". And my four grey hairs in the centre of my fringe serve as a constant reminder that I'm too old to wear citrus colours.

But Paul has no complaints about my clothes, and let's face it, a present is just as nice wrapped up in brown paper and string as it is in fancy wrapping and ribbon. And yes, we've given up clubbing. Who on earth still goes clubbing when they're happily married? I last set foot in a nightclub in September 2003. It was in St Louis, I had a fantastic time, I danced on the bar, I was given free shots for doing so, but I have no desire to do that again. My memories of clubbing in Cambridge involved being completely sozzled prior to entering the nightclubs (and those of you who know the Cambridge nightclubs will understand that that's the only state to be in), queuing for ages for the bar, toilets and cloakrooms, dancing badly to really dubious music and avoiding being groped by the rugby team. I gather the London clubs are similar except that the drinks cost more and it's City toffs doing the groping.

I'm nearly 27. Paul turns 28 in May. Our alcohol tolerance has dropped to the point where we can have a really good night out on a bottle of wine between us. We'll be wearing ear plugs when we go to see Muse in June (if Wembley gets finished) so we don't have awful tinnitus for two days afterwards. My mum is happy to point out that by the time she was my age, she'd had me. So if my mum was perfectly happy to become a mother, embrace Laura Ashley clothes and listen to Radio 2 way before it was "cool", then I don't see anything wrong with shopping at M&S, supping a warm pint of Hobgoblin and delighting in the warming tones of James Naughtie easing me out of my slumber.

Hooray for being a grown-up!

Chrysler's chief economist, Van Jolissaint, says it would be "more rational to spend lots of money on today's other big problems, and only make small and limited changes in policies relating to global warming, such as a slight increase in gasoline or carbon taxes". Which other "big problems" would they be then? The war in Iraq? The war your Government is only waging a) because Bush Snr didn't finish the job properly the first time and b) because it's greedy as hell and wants the oil?

Jolissaint criticises the Stern Report, saying it doesn't include a discount rate. What, you want to be rewarded for doing what you bloody well ought to be doing anyway as your duty to global humanity? Buy one hybrid engine, get one free? Bollocks, Mr Jolissaint.

He insults Europeans for being "quasi-hysterical", and compares us to Chicken Little (I think you'll find the character was originally called Chicken Licken), the bird who believed the sky was falling. I would counter that by suggesting that Mr Jolissaint's attitude resembles that of another bird-related legend.

The ostrich burying its head in the sand.

To everyone who accepts that we need to change our lifestyles drastically to prevent global warming, I urge you to make one little change here. If and when you buy a new car, if going without is an impossibility because of where you live or what you do for a living, boycott Chrysler, GM and Ford. Buy French, buy Japanese. But don't buy American. Screw them over good.

A less appealing aspect of my job is, as you know, to read some of the daily newspapers for articles relating to the flour and milling industry. And being in a rather junior position in the Association, I have been given The Sun, The Daily Mirror and The Daily Express to read - papers that have only marginally more factual content than The National Enquirer.

Today the "columnist-at-large", David Robson, wrote a column entitled "Epitaphs need not be a grave matter" (GEDDIT?!!), focussing on the death of Magnus Magnusson at the weekend. For the Trans-Atlantic readers, Magnusson is most famous in the UK for hosting the quiz show Mastermind, and for his catchphrase (should the two minutes run out before he had finished asking the final question of a contestant) "I've started so I'll finish".

But consider how Robson chose to discuss this:

For starters this idiot deserves to be in Pseuds Corner of Private Eye for that drivel. But that's not my main point. This is. Why palaeontology? What has the study of ancient life on Earth ever done to you Mr Robson, for you to dismiss anyone who studies the subject as an "anorak"? What on earth makes palaeontologists anoraks where biochemists, planetary geophysicists, inorganic chemists, structural geologists and astrophysicists get let off? I can only assume Mr Robson has thought to himself "Hmm, palaeontology - that's a word with six syllables. Far too complicated for me to understand so I'll make fun of it".

In all seriousness, I do not understand where the image of palaeontologists as "anoraks" comes from. We're okay with "geek". "Geek" has been reclaimed by the scientifically-educated, just as all those derogatory terms for homosexual men were reclaimed with pride by the gays (cf. the cabaret group "Four Poofs And A Piano"). The website http://www.thinkgeek.com/ embraces science, and men and women all over the world delight in having mugs with caffeine molecules embossed on the side, or cuddly Martian meteorite microbes on their desks.

But "anorak", and its even worse synonym "nerd" are insulting. I was called a nerd on a number of occasions when I posted on That Forum. Name-calling is petty and a rather inane form of bullying but my God it hurts.

According to Wikipedia, "In Britain, anorak is also a somewhat pejorative term for people whose interests are perceived to be nerdy, or who have more expertise in some arcane topic than seems altogether rational; the usage comes from the popularity of anoraks and parkas among train spotters." How the hell is making a career out of a scientific discipline "more... expertise than seems altogether rational"? Mr Robson, you are, like so many of your colleagues at the Express, allergic to education. You try to bring everyone down to your level. You are like the school bullies - taunting bright children for working hard, using words of more than one syllable and having a bit too much sense to join your gang. But as every bright kid looking back on their school life realises, the bullies may laugh at clever children but deep down they have a massive inferiority complex. I expect, Mr Robson, you wish you had been to university, got a masters, maybe a PhD, and were able to spend your days doing something more intellectual than writing dross for the gutter press.

To leave this on a high note, let me quote an interview with Beth Ditto, the singer, which the Guardian published last week. When asked which her favourite museum was, Ditto replied:

There's nothing pretentious about dinosaur bones.

I get so much fun out of laughing at the stupid things George Bush comes out with at press conferences. Jon Stewart on the Daily Show often condenses all the blundering idiot's speeches into a handy montage of nonsense, so I'm spared having to watch the whole interviews. But sometimes it's nice to put my hands up to my American friends and say, "Yes, I admit it - our leader is a moron too". Today was one of those occasions.

Oh, well that's okay then. We don't need to worry about recycling, moving to hybrid cars, reducing the number of flights we take, cutting down on the use of fossil fuels and exploring alternative energy sources. We'll just let the scientists take care of it.

The scientists no one is listening to because climate change is a conspiracy we've all thought up to get more funding. The scientists for whom the Labour Government has cut funding. The scientists deserting Britain in their droves. Nice one Tone. There are hardly any scientists left in Britain to "save" the planet.

I received my undergraduate education from Cambridge University, and the two years of climatology I took were taught by professors from the Godwin Institute for Quaternary Research. After a while, the lectures become a blur - not helped by the timing of the lectures immediately after lunchtime. But one lecture is etched in my memory, and that was Tjeerd van Andel's lecture on thermohaline circulation and the North Atlantic conveyor. The ocean currents circulate on, broadly speaking, two levels. Warm water flows from the equator to the North Atlantic at the surface (this is the Gulf Stream), sinks as it cools in the Norwegian Sea, and then flows south as bottom water. This is a bit of a simplification, but a) I'm not a climatologist, and b) I'm assuming most of you aren't climatologists either.

From http://www.ncdc.noaa.gov/.

Now, if global warming continues at the current rate, the polar ice caps will melt. Not only will the sea level rise, but the salinity of the Norwegian Sea will decrease. And this will mean that the water will not sink. If the water cannot sink, then there is no "pull" for the current. And the North Atlantic conveyor will eventually slow and stop. We were shown a paper (forgive me, I cannot remember the author), showing that before the conveyor shuts down, the climate models predict that there will be erratic and unsettled climate in the North Atlantic. I do not doubt for one minute that the heatwaves, hailstorms, tornadoes etc are symptoms of "unsettled climate". Unfortunately, the study indicated that by the time the "wobble" begins, carbon dioxide levels in the atmosphere would have to be drastically cut in order to prevent the eventual shutdown of the system. Shutdown would result in Britain having the climate of Spitzbergen (Professor van Andel's favourite comparison area). There was stunned silence at the end of the class. We were shaken.

For five years, since that class, I have felt in a simultaneously privileged and cursed position, as though I have foreseen my own death. I see the evidence of our acceleration and augmentation of the natural climate variation on a daily basis. Scientists have been warning the politicians, pleading with them to bring in pollution-limiting legislation, for over 20 years. And now, now that the Stern Report has finally spoken in language the Government understands (money), Tony Blair has decided to offload the task onto the scientists!

We can't just expect men and women in white lab coats to rescue us. Everyone, from the individual through the office through the big industry right the way to the Ministry of Defence, has to take responsibility for putting this right. Read "An Inconvenient Truth" by Al Gore, or buy the DVD. Watch it. Watch Lake Chad and the Aral Sea disappearing. See the ice caps melting and the sea levels rising.

And then recycle. Buy local. Buy renewable. Plant trees. Take the train instead. Put energy-saving light bulbs in every room in your house. It will feel like you're trying to bail out the QE2 with a thimble. It will feel futile. You will wonder whether anything you are doing will help. But if enough of us bail out with our thimbles, then the companies belching out greenhouse gases like it's going out of fashion will have no choice but to get their buckets and start helping.

Don't expect the scientists to save us. They've been trying to save us but no one would listen.

When we moved to our new flat, we were thrilled to have a garden, which we shared with the other tenants. We sat blissfully on our patio chairs, at our patio table, eating croissants and drinking orange juice, entertained by the delightful little squirrels. One of them was a very regular visitor to our garden, and we called him Bubba, on account of his size (he was also very definitely a "he" - do a Google image search for "squirrel nuts" and you'll see why - that picture isn't much of an exaggeration).

All was well, and we lived in harmony with the animal kingdom.

Until I took up gardening. I bought myself a few large pots, and started growing plants. I have a bit of a mixed bag at the moment, but I'm hoping to grow mainly gymnosperms which were around (or whose relatives were around) in the time of the dinosaurs. My pride and joy is a Dicksonia, which will eventually grow to be several metres high. Fortunately this has been spared Bubba's attention. However, my poor little juniper hasn't been so lucky, nor has the ornamental kale (which I bought because it made Paul giggle). Bubba has been digging around in the pots. And at some point either Bubba or his foxy friends managed to tip over the pot with the juniper, scattering the contents everywhere. The juniper's roots have been exposed, and it's been almost a weekly task to cover them over. If I was at home during daylight hours I'm sure it would be a daily job, but I dislike gardening in the dark.

Bubba took the biscuit a few weeks ago by pooing on my tits. By which I mean the blue tit statues I have on the steps. They had been moved off the back steps to make room for the delivery men to bring in our new fridge-freezer, and I'd put them under the tree for safe-keeping. When I saw the poo I was absolutely convinced the local chavs had been round and crapped on my ornaments, as it had been evidently dropped from a greater height than the average fox can manage. It was only when more was added to it (with the notable absence of uric acid that is found in bird poo), that it occurred to me that it was probably a squirrel. As Bubba is the most frequent visitor, and the only squirrel we have named, he's going to be blamed for this.

The tits are back on the steps. When our new sofa is delivered I'll be putting them under the steps for safekeeping. But Bubba was still chucking compost everywhere in his attempt to get at whatever delicacy he thinks is hidden in the juniper roots (unless he shares my family's opinion of gin). So, today, gravel was bought, to hopefully get between his toes and deter him from scrabbling around. If that doesn't do the job, I'll be nicking some warfarin from West Middlesex Hospital's phlebotomy lab.

There was me thinking that attaining the grand old age of 27 in a few weeks would render me ineligible for Tony Blair's big bumper soldier-killing exercise in Iraq. Looks like they have another seven years to run out of Army before they start calling up anyone of fighting age. Oh well, here's to asthma, flat feet, long-sightedness, night blindness and being a gurl!

Maybe they should consider bumping up the minimum recruitment age to 18, as we're one of the countries breaking international law on child soldiers.