A book I am reading made passing reference to Oliver Cromwell’s refusal to take quinine for his malaria. The history of quinine is tangled and uncertain, but a few things are constant. Jesuit missionaries learned from Amerindians that the bark of the Cinchona tree could cure fever.¹ It was taken up by Pope Urban VIII and spread through much of Europe as Jesuit’s bark or Jesuit’s powder.

Cromwell, of course was having none of that. He died in 1658, probably of malaria, convinced, like many of his countrymen, that the popish powder was a plot to undermine the Anglican church.

On a whim — a well-researched whim — I recently bought a new activity tracker, a Xiaomi Mi-band 5. It was intended to replace my Garmin Vivofit, which has served me more or less faithfully for six years. The original impetus for seeking a replacement was that I fancied keeping more of an eye on my heart rate, but only because since the lockdown I have actually been exercising more frequently and more intensely than before, and while that is its own reward, it would be nice to see some additional evidence that I am getting fitter.

The old coincidence detector beeped yesterday as I listened to the Reply All podcast Candidate One. It was about an election at Berkeley High School, a hotbed of political activism and its evil twin, political chicanery.

Tl, dr; someone tried to cheat and got caught. Yay democracy and truth.

Gonzo Aussie podcaster bloke Mike Williams put this up yesterday:

The average punter goes to the races with $5 and expects to win $1000.
The experienced punter goes with $1000 and hopes to win $5.
The average podcaster does a little bit of distribution work and expects to gain 1000 listeners.
The experienced podcaster does a stack of distribution and hopes to gain five listeners.

Just caught up with the podcast version of Dan Saladino's excellent Seed Stories from the Lockdown on Radio 4's The Food Programme, and of course it prompted a flood of emotions, reminiscences and recognitions. As soon as I got home, I walked through the terrace, thinking about which of the plants I had grown from seed and, more particularly, home-saved seed.