Tom Shields on handbags
There has been an element of laughing up sleeves and some male smugness at the news that a lady astronaut lost her handbag in space. Heidemarie Stefanyshyn-Piper was doing some routine maintenance outside the International Space Station when she failed to tether the bag containing her tools and it drifted off into the wild blue (or whatever colour the sky is up there) yonder.
If the mishap had involved a male astronaut, there might have been reports a few paragraphs long stating that a tool kit had been lost in space. At the last count there had been some 3000 reports in the media about how Heidemarie lost her handbag.
This raises issues about stereotyping of the female species. But first, let us ask the question: what is it about women and handbags?
Why do they have this compulsion to go around with almost all their worldly goods in a bag? And why, by the way, does the bag have to match the shoes?
For males there are endless hours of fun to be had watching women search through their bags to find the mobile phone which stops ringing just as it is located.
It can be less fun and somewhat irksome to be behind the bag ladies in the queue at the supermarket checkout. They seem surprised to be asked to pay for their shopping and start to rummage through the voluminous bag in pursuit of the purse. This task is made difficult by the fact the bag contains the entire product range of Boots the chemist, various combs and hairbrushes, and a set of Carmen rollers.
Among the many pieces of paper will be a quantity of used and slightly disturbing Kleenex, a Christmas shopping list (in July) and a boarding pass from the previous year's holiday. There will be at least three pairs of sun specs, about £20 in loose change, and possibly a book on Feng Shui.
A female relative once had her bag snatched on Las Ramblas in Barcelona. Reporting the theft to the police proved to be a lengthy process. As the list of contents was related, the policeman interrupted to ask if the stolen item was a handbag or a suitcase.
It is this handbag mythology which allows the suggestion that only a woman in space would be a few sonic spanners short of the full tool kit.
But Heidemarie "Handbag" Stefanyshyn-Piper is no bimbo. She is the lead spacewalker on the American Endeavour mission. This is her second trip to the space station.
As a naval officer, her career has also taken her on diving missions to the ocean bed. She has reached heights and depths to which most males in their right minds would not boldly go.
As a person who declines to climb a stepladder to change a light bulb on the grounds that it is too dangerous a pursuit, I am full of admiration for Heidemarie, who has no qualms about popping outside to do repair work on a vehicle which is spinning around at 17,000mph hundreds of miles up in the sky.
Our lady astronaut was busy lubricating a gummed-up joint on a solar panel when her grease gun exploded. It is little wonder that her concentration lapsed for a moment and the tool kit drifted off.
There is a spare set of tools to hand, which is just as well as there is much work to be done at the space station. Heidemarie and her colleagues are putting in an extension.
The housing market on planet Earth may be stuffed, but up there they are adding on two bedrooms and an extra kitchen and bathroom. This will presumably help the space station's B&B trade.
For $30 million, the Russians will take you to space on your holidays. The most recent tourist was Richard Garriott, who made his loot from video games. Mr Garriott said the views were nice.
Even if I had $30m to spare, I doubt if I would spend it on a mini-break in the stratosphere. As is so often the case when you travel to distant parts, the water sounds decidedly dodgy.
One of the projects Heidemarie and co are working on at the space station is a device which turns the astronauts' sweat and urine into drinking water. It's a simple recipe: you boil up the sweat and urine with distilled water, and filter it "to remove hair, lint, and other contaminants".
This information has not increased my thirst for space travel.
There was another small matter of concern up on the space station when one of their two spiders went missing. The arachnids were taken along to see how they got on spinning their webs weightlessly.
This seems a pointless exercise. If you have got a spider-free environment, keep it that way.
The spider was eventually traced to its box, where it had been hiding.
There were no reports, however, that while the spider was missing presumed crawling about the space station, Heidemarie indulged in any of the usual irrational behaviour indulged in by women in the matter of creepy-crawlies.
She did not scream or lock herself in her room and refuse to come out until the spider had been captured and chucked out of the window and into orbit. Which makes her something of a superwoman. Even if she does lose her handbag.
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PROBLEMS are predicted for Venezuela's president Hugo Chavez in today's local elections. Which is a pity, since Chavez is one of the world's few original political characters.
He has inherited from Fidel Castro the role of thorn in the flesh of the USA. While Bush and his pals have been busy making war in the Middle East, they failed to stop the Commie Chavez from setting up shop right in their own backyard. Among Chavez's dangerous ideas are free medical treatment, subsidised food for those who are hungry, and oil revenues spent on public projects.
The Venezuelan leader is portrayed in the conservative media as Chav by name and chav by nature. Personally, I find his cavalier approach quite amusing and ground-breaking.
Like his broadcast on government TV channels of secret service wire taps to embarrass opposition politicians. Or the video of an American diplomat dressed as a nun, complete with false breasts.
Life with Chav is not dull, except possibly when he breaks into a soap opera on the telly to make a lengthy presidential announcement.
There may be lessons to be learned from chavismo for our own dear leader, Alex Salmond.
When you are fighting for independence from an over-bearing bigger neighbour, sometimes you need to use shock tactics.
I am not suggesting that Mr Salmond should interrupt River City to make speeches. But Eck has shown he is an accomplished TV performer.
A wee 15-minute homily each night from the first minister would do nicely.
