What is the point of phosphorescent phytoplankton? Apart from making you glow like the 'Ready Brek man' of course

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Holy Luminous Sea Creatures Batman! What a fiendishly FAQ to research!

There are a few rare experiences in life in which the emotional content is outside logic or a sense of reality, like standing on a vertical mountain ridge with a thousand foot drop on either side or when driving through a rainbow. Another is swimming with phosphorescent phytoplankton.

So what is the point of these performing pincushions of nature? Well they can't help but be born exhibitionists, delighting you in colourful luminescence, making you shed inhibitions, and luring you into a false sense of security.

Imagine the scene... A bunch of you are spending the day at a beach house on an island in the Maldives. After dark, the surf glows blue. None of you have ever seen glow-in-the-dark plankton before. Each wave is a fluorescent blue tube. Every footstep in the damp sand sends a ring of blue light expanding outward.  Up close, the glow sparkles blue points; the individual planktic.  Of course, you all have to go swimming...and find out that the things are about the size of a pinhead, but have tiny little legs? claws? that don't feel too comfortable when they get trapped under a swimsuit; so the suits came off.  Your bodies are outlined in blue light.  When you hold up your arms, flashing blue diamonds cascade down.  It is a magical, memorable experience.

But then you notice the man standing in the surf a few feet away, casting a ten-foot circular net, and hauling in five-foot dog sharks.  You look between your legs, and think "bait", and decide that, magical or not, that's enough skinny-dipping for one night.

Yes indeed, you have to watch out for those phosphorescent phytoplankton types. They might appear harmless, but if you're unlucky the damn sneaky lot of them will have your precious bits glowing too!



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Please remind me what Santa's reindeer are called?

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Is there a song or poem to help me to remember in future?


The only known flying reindeer in the world were endowed with the power of flight by virtue of magic corn given by a great and wonderful wizard. Through this magic corn, the strength of the Reindeer is increased threefold, their stamina increased to infinity and their hooves can manipulate the air as though it were solid ground.

Santa's reindeer first gained celebrity status by the poet Clement Clarke Moore's 1822 poem...

Twas the night before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

Did you know you can track Santa and his reindeers' flightpath? Well, the good folks at NORAD, the North American Aerospace Defense Command can help you out - Visit http://www.noradsanta.org/


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What's the average bedtime for the average adult?

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Oh dear, this particular FAQer was never one for being average and regularly retires after midnight or even later. Now children don't follow my bad example - we should get at least 8 hours of sleep to function properly.

It seems that bedtime for many on workday nights is between 10 and 11pm although for a few shattered souls 9pm is nearer the mark.

Here's a handy tip to get the best kind of kip. When you go to bed, take a deep breath and just relax. Feel your muscles relax. Become one with your mattress.

Yawn...now we're feeling sleepy so we're off to tuck each other into bed, with our hot cocoa and to read each other a lovely bed-time story...Gnight...

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What is the ULTIMATE Christmas movie???

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Although to some this story is an analogy to the debate over U.S. monetary policy in the late 1800s - Dorothy is misled to take the yellow brick road (the gold standard) but is taken home by the silver shoes (the ruby slippers are silver in the book); the cowardly lion is William Jennings Bryan...it cannot be anything else but this marvellously magical movie.

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Is there a fire in my belly?

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It was 'National Curry Week' last week after all!



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