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The Pharmaceutical Journal
Vol 269 No 7218 p506
5 October 2002

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Classes dangereuses [more]
Grasping the nettle [more]
Virtue of integration [more]


Classes dangereuses

In my innocence I was under the impression that distinctions of caste and class were out of date in the western world, though perhaps not further afield. It seems I was blissfully ignorant, to judge from the results of a MORI poll published in The Times of 21 August.

The poll found that in recent years the proportion of people who prefer to class themselves as "working class" has increased. At the same time there seem to be no firm criteria of what any social "class" involves. Apparently being "middle class" means owning a house valued above £100,000, going on two foreign holidays a year, owning two or more cars, being connected to the internet at home, reading broadsheet newspapers and sending children to selective or private schools. Being "working class" means being less prosperous.

The class distinctions that irk me far more are attached to occupations. Apparently, class A covers "professionals such as doctors and civil servants", class B university lecturers, bank managers and police inspectors, class C1 non-manual workers "such as nurses, pharmacists and publicans", class C2 skilled manual workers "such as lorry drivers and security officers", class D semi-skilled and unskilled manual workers (labourers and postmen) and class E, pensioners and casual workers. This is surely a strange classification with many exceptions and I should like to add my own comments to those already made in The Journal's letters pages.

I am rather amused that statisticians should bracket together nurses, pharmacists and publicans, and that pharmacists should be classified apart from the professionals. I would argue that I am quite as professional as doctors and civil servants. Indeed, I have to be. George Bernard Shaw was being cynical when he wrote, in 'The doctor's dilemma (1911): "All professions are conspiracies against the laity." A profession is defined as "a vocation in which a professed knowledge of some department of learning or science is used in its application to the affairs of others or in the practice of an art founded upon it". The term "professional" implies competence, experience, expertise and ethics, its antonym being "amateur". The emphasis is upon the quality and quantity of the special service offered, quite regardless of the economic or financial aspects. Morality demands achieving and practising the highest possible standards by taking pains to keep up with the state of knowledge required in a special service. It implies the obligation to pursue continuing education, and the ability to recognise when a specific task is beyond one's powers because of a degree of ignorance.

Most of the pharmacists I have encountered accept without question their responsibility for achieving and maintaining their professionalism. There are bound to be a few who fall short of what the rest of us expect of them, but that cannot invalidate the claims of the rest. So whenever anyone attempts to sort people into categories, we pharmacists must be adamant that we belong among the professionals.

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Grasping the nettle

We tend to take the humble and nearly ubiquitous nettle for granted, and if we think about it dismiss it as a pestilential invader of our gardens. Yet Urtica dioica deserves more attention from us and exhibits a chequered background.

The nettle is essentially a plant of woodlands, but the fact that it thrives on soils rich in phosphates means that it shows itself most often in the wake of human colonisation and is a good indicator of ancient settlements. A long deserted and disintegrating tenement such as a cottage garden or an ecclesiastical settlement reveals itself in a fine nettle crop. The predilection of nettle for nitrogen is another factor determining its distribution.

Also, it resists the onslaught of rabbits, which explains its survival among the ancient sites of Romano-British villages on the uplands of Wiltshire. Such sites have seen rare survivals of the Roman nettle, O pilulifera, reputed to have been brought by the legions, who believed that massage with its leaves would relieve the effects of a cold climate. At least, so reported William Camden at the end of the 16th century.

Connoisseurs of the nettle as food will be aware that, when plucked before flowering, it is as satisfying as spinach after boiling with a few spices. It makes a flavoursome soup into the bargain.

Brewed into an ale, nettle has been recommended against jaundice, and infused as a tea it is said to help disturbances of the stomach. Curiously enough, professional daffodil-pickers have found nettle tea a good treatment for the rash sometimes provoked by handling daffodils.

The boiled leaves have been employed as wound-dressing to prevent infection, an ointment prepared from them an antirheumatic remedy, and the smoke produced by smouldering dried nettle leaves inhaled to relieve bronchitis. Compounds present in nettle, in addition to the abundant chlorophyll, include histamine, serotonin, acetylcholine, flavonol glycosides and ascorbic acid.

It should not be forgotten that a woven fabric made from nettle stems has been used extensively in the past. Indeed, a Bronze Age skeleton discovered in Denmark was wrapped in nettle fabric.

And gardeners who grumble at the plant should remember that a range of butterflies, including painted lady, small tortoiseshell, peacock, comma and red admiral, depend on nettles for the survival of their larvae, which feed upon the leaves, buds and flowers. As Horace Walpole remarked in 1779: "When people will not weed their own minds, they are apt to be overrun with nettles." And the same goes for gardens. Nevertheless, a small corner of the garden should be reserved for butterfly feeding.

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Virtue of integration

The professional personality of Rabelais illustrated a true psychosynthesis. The monk who became a doctor and a teacher was no longer isolated from the main stream of human activities. Before Rabelais, the monk specialised in the study of the soul; for him to openly consider the body and mind of man was tantamount to heterodoxy. After Rabelais, these subterranean streams of thought slowly rose to the surface, until the clerics, craftsmen and academicians pooled together the divergent currents to create a wondrous lake for modern science
— Thomas F. Graham: 'Medieval minds: mental health in the Middle Ages' (1967).

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