I spent the weekend camping in Wiltshire with friends, and a fine time was had by all, especially the insane psychotic harpies of the dawn chorus. People who know nothing will tell you how important it is to encourage a diversity of bird species in the urban environment, but they can only be robotic simulacra with no need of sleep. Anyone with any sense of history realises that cities first started when Chaldean peasants banded together to repel the chirruping avian bastards with arrows and fire brands, and accidentally discovered that if you set up a two hundred yard perimeter it was possible to have a lie in.
The pub where we were camping, the Barge Inn, is a centre for crop circle enthusiasts, and I can report that something rather wonderful has happened. Previously a focus point for alien fantasists and New Age delusionals, the whole thing has turned into a rather fine ephemeral art movement. Seriously, search for crop circles in Google Images, and you'll see some great stuff. As usual, it's the abandonment of mysticism that leads to any transcendence we may be capable of.
No such progress in the world of alternative medicine, which remains evidence-free. For more details here are the Bad Science entries on homeopathy. After a weekend spent in the company of people in the field, and in a field, their success becomes clear. It's because they're kind and decent people, who really believe that what they do is a form of medicine. If you booked an hour with them, of course you'd go away feeling better.
There's a process of self-selection going on. People who are unsuited to giving placebos are winnowed out by their failure to treat successfully, whilst people who are unsuited to receiving them, or who have conditions which aren't responsive to them, are winnowed out by their failure to be treated. Given that, it's hardly surprising if you get anecdotally impressive results, which can't be reproduced under laboratory conditions.
On the way home, Simon, Heather and I stopped off at Avebury, with mixed results. I got the usual buzz I get from any historic site (and did these feet, in ancient times, and all that), while Simon dubbed our walk round the stone circle The Great Avebury Pointless Trek. He wouldn't have it, but I thought the weekend made a historical point. After listening to homeopaths and the like all weekend, it was instructive to visit the stones and be reminded that people have been concocting pointless metaphysical gibberish in these parts for thousands of years.
Meanwhile, according to Chemistry and Industry Magazine, Fat can grow new breasts. I think some of us were already aware of that.