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The Pharmaceutical Journal
Vol 268 No 7199 p738
25 May 2002

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Onlooker

Amalgam game [more]
Those cigarettes again [more]
Oaken festival [more]


Amalgam game

Mercury, we recognise, is an element to be treated with respect and handled as little as possible. In the history of science are many instances of unwary alchemists searching for the secret of turning base metals into gold, and evil plotters wishing to produce a lethal poison, whose careless management of mercury has brought disastrous consequences. Gold miners trying to concentrate mineral deposits, and ignorant of the perils of inhaled vapour, have also succumbed. Industrial wastes containing mercury and turned loose into seas and rivers have led to methylation of the element and the serious poisoning of people consuming local fish, as in the notorious Minamata affair. Yet, I think, we are mistaken in taking too strong a nanny attitude to mercury with all its interesting applications.

A question and answer page in New Scientist for 11 May raises the question of the effect of contact with mercury on articles of jewellery. The query concerned a woman wearing gold rings who came into contact with mercury and discovered that her rings had turned silver. Such a mishap was not uncommon in hospitals where I worked and mercury was present in clinical thermometers and sphygmomanometers. These articles were always subject to spillage or breakage, and in dental units the exposure was relatively great, since amalgams were made.

We were also frequently asked for help by distressed nurses who found that their rings had discoloured. Our solution was to heat the ring for some time in our hot-air oven at 300-400 degrees, when the colour was effectively restored. I must admit we were not unduly perturbed by the possibility that, unless ventilation was good, we may have been at some risk of poisoning.

In these days of the nanny-state, when any kind of laboratory chemistry is regarded with suspicion, and when protective clothing and special facilities are considered essential before any student handles a flask or a test-tube, we have become sensitive to mercury in all its shapes and sizes. I must admit that, in practising hospital pharmacy, I have handled many substances that with the light of later knowledge I might have avoided had I been aware of the hazards at the time — several nasty carcinogens, for example.

In those days we relied upon common sense and good hygiene, and I can recollect few of my colleagues who suffered serious reactions later in life. Regarding mercury, however, I look back with some misgivings to some events of my grammar school days, when I remember we regaled visitors to our parents' evening with a grand exhibition of our prowess in the chemistry laboratory.

Apart from the pyrotechnics, including a model of erupting Vesuvius, one popular exhibit was the so-called "beating heart" display. This involved placing an evaporating basin half full of mercury (into which dipped a copper rod to produce an impressive periodic surface-tension effect) on an open bench, unprotected even by a bell jar. Today a school governor would turn pale at the mere idea. The fact that the exhibition was in midwinter, in a hot and close laboratory, was an additional factor.

Then there was always the matter of spillage. Inevitably, mercury found its way into the cracks of the floorboards in our laboratory. We were instructed to sprinkle sulphur over the area and sweep it up later, to overcome the volatility problem. So far as I know, this was effective, and we certainly encountered no toxic reactions, though what happened to the sweepings I cannot recollect.

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Those cigarettes again

A report in New Scientist for 11 May draws attention to research into the effect of parental tobacco smoking on the mental development of children who have no choice but to inhale the fumes.

A study of more than 4,000 children in the United States aged 6 to 16 was organised from Cincinnati. It indicates that even small quantities of tobacco smoke may reduce a child's intelligence quotient and lower cognitive ability. The degree of exposure suffered by the subjects was measured by the blood concentration of the nicotine metabolite cotinine. Children who might themselves be smoking were eliminated from the study by excluding those whose blood cotinine concentration was 15ng/ml or more.

When other possible contributory factors, such as family poverty, poor parental education and a significant level of lead in the blood, were taken into account, a positive correlation between blood cotinine and lowered cognitive performance appeared. The IQ score, on average, was reduced by two points if blood cotinine was only 1ng per ml, an amount which might result if one parent of the child smoked less than one pack of cigarettes daily. Each ng of cotinine in the child's blood reduced the reading score by about one point, and the mathematical score by three-quarters of one point. The difference in reading score between children with the highest and the lowest detected cotinine concentrations was nine points.

Such a study may carry certain confounding factors, including the degree of maternal smoking during pregnancy, but there is no evidence that they are significant enough to invalidate the findings of this survey.

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Oaken festival

In his 'Diary' for 29 May 1661, John Evelyn recorded that a festival known as Oak Apple Day or Royal Oak Day was "the first anniversary appointed by Act of Parliament to be observed as a day of general Thanksgiving for the miraculous Restauration of his Majesty." This was Charles II, arriving back from exile in 1660 in London, on his birthday, 29 May. To show his benevolence, Charles immediately issued his Declaration of Breda, promising a general-amnesty for those concerned in the downfall of the monarchy and liberty of conscience for all citizens.

Until 1859, when it was expunged, there was a special service inserted into the Book of Common Prayer to celebrate the great event. People wore sprigs of oak leaves and gilded oak apples in celebration of the anniversary, and until the mid-1900s it was customary for anyone failing to display the oak to be pinched, kicked or whipped with a bunch of nettles. For that reason the anniversary came also to be named Nettle Day. In some parts of the country the maypole first set up on May Day was maintained until 29 May, on the excuse of celebrating the return of King Charles.

The idea of celebrating with the oak as token arose from the story that, after the battle of Worcester, Charles had concealed himself in the foliage of an oak tree in order to avoid capture by the Cromwellian soldiery.

There was at one time a different celebration in Shropshire, again on 29 May, known as Arbor Day, when sprigs of a local black poplar were distributed to local girls on the occasion of their wedding, to ensure that they enjoyed many children. This custom was attributed to a local squire, John Marston, began it in 1786. Unfortunately the event fell into disrepute when the local press dubbed it a pagan fertility rite and highly superstitious.

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