Support for Scottish independence is on the slide

The anti-independence campaign's lead has risen from 11 points to 20.

Ahead of the launch of the "no" to Scottish independence campaign (or, rather, "yes" to the United Kingdom) next Monday, there's some cheer for unionists in a new poll. The latest Times/Ipsos-MORI survey (£) reveals that among those certain to vote, support for indepencence has fallen by four points since January to 35 per cent. Over the same period, support for Scotland remaining in the UK has risen by five points to 55 per cent. In other words, what was an 11-point lead for the "no" campaign has become a 20-point lead.

Worse for the SNP, Ipsos-MORI asked Scots Alex Salmond's preferred referendum question - "Do you agree that Scotland should be an independent country?" - a question widely criticised as leading. Robert Cialdini, for instance, an American psychologist with no stake in the race, told the Today programme:

I think it's loaded and biased because it sends people down a particular cognitive chute designed to locate agreements rather than disagreements. It's called a one-sided question or a loaded question... [pollsters] for a long time have warned us against those sorts of questions.

When all responses are taken into account, including those unlikely to vote, support for independence falls to 32 per cent, while backing for the Union remains at 55 per cent.

After his dalliance with Rupert Murdoch came under new scrutiny, Salmond's personal ratings have also fallen. Fifty three per cent of Scots say they are "satisfied" with his performance as First Minister, down from 58 per cent in January. Concurrently, the level of dissatisfaction with Salmond has risen from 36 per cent to 40 per cent.

We're still more than two years away from the SNP's preferred referendum date of autumn 2014 (a few weeks after the 700th anniversary of Bannockburn) but with the UK in recession and discontent with David Cameron at a new high, the nationalists should question why they appear to be losing momentum.

One possibility is that the form of independence proposed by Salmond is increasingly indistinguishable from the alternatives of "devo max" (full fiscal autonomy) or "devo plus" (full tax-raising powers, with the exception of VAT and National Insurance). As NS editor Jason Cowley recently noted, Salmond would retain the Queen as head of state, keep the pound (the SNP leader, who quipped in 2009 that sterling was "sinking like a stone" and that the euro was viewed more "favourably", is now desperate for a currency union with England) and, perhaps, seek to join Nato. What kind of independence is this? So long as the Better Together campaign (as it will be known) makes a genuine offer of further devolution to Scottish voters, it has little reason to fear the coming battle.

Alex Salmond, Scotland’s First Minister and leader of the Scottish National Party. Photograph: Getty Images.

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

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A swimming pool and a bleeding toe put my medical competency in doubt

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Sometimes the search engine wins. 

The brutal heatwave affecting southern Europe this summer has become known among locals as “Lucifer”. Having just returned from Italy, I fully understand the nickname. An early excursion caused the beginnings of sunstroke, so we abandoned plans to explore the cultural heritage of the Amalfi region and strayed no further than five metres from the hotel pool for the rest of the week.

The children were delighted, particularly my 12-year-old stepdaughter, Gracie, who proceeded to spend hours at a time playing in the water. Towelling herself after one long session, she noticed something odd.

“What’s happened there?” she asked, holding her foot aloft in front of my face.

I inspected the proffered appendage: on the underside of her big toe was an oblong area of glistening red flesh that looked like a chunk of raw steak.

“Did you injure it?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

I shrugged and said she must have grazed it. She wasn’t convinced, pointing out that she would remember if she had done that. She has great faith in plasters, though, and once it was dressed she forgot all about it. I dismissed it, too, assuming it was one of those things.

By the end of the next day, the pulp on the underside of all of her toes looked the same. As the doctor in the family, I felt under some pressure to come up with an explanation. I made up something about burns from the hot paving slabs around the pool. Gracie didn’t say as much, but her look suggested a dawning scepticism over my claims to hold a medical degree.

The next day, Gracie and her new-found holiday playmate, Eve, abruptly terminated a marathon piggy-in-the-middle session in the pool with Eve’s dad. “Our feet are bleeding,” they announced, somewhat incredulously. Sure enough, bright-red blood was flowing, apparently painlessly, from the bottoms of their big toes.

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Often, what patients discover on the internet causes them undue alarm, and our role is to provide context and reassurance. But not infrequently, people come across information that outstrips our knowledge. On my return from our room with fresh supplies of plasters, my wife looked up from her sun lounger with an air of quiet amusement.

“It’s called ‘pool toe’,” she said, handing me her iPhone. The page she had tracked down described the girls’ situation exactly: friction burns, most commonly seen in children, caused by repetitive hopping about on the abrasive floors of swimming pools. Doctors practising in hot countries must see it all the time. I doubt it presents often to British GPs.

I remained puzzled about the lack of pain. The injuries looked bad, but neither Gracie nor Eve was particularly bothered. Here the internet drew a blank, but I suspect it has to do with the “pruning” of our skin that we’re all familiar with after a soak in the bath. This only occurs over the pulps of our fingers and toes. It was once thought to be caused by water diffusing into skin cells, making them swell, but the truth is far more fascinating.

The wrinkling is an active process, triggered by immersion, in which the blood supply to the pulp regions is switched off, causing the skin there to shrink and pucker. This creates the biological equivalent of tyre treads on our fingers and toes and markedly improves our grip – of great evolutionary advantage when grasping slippery fish in a river, or if trying to maintain balance on slick wet rocks.

The flip side of this is much greater friction, leading to abrasion of the skin through repeated micro-trauma. And the lack of blood flow causes nerves to shut down, depriving us of the pain that would otherwise alert us to the ongoing tissue damage. An adaptation that helped our ancestors hunt in rivers proves considerably less use on a modern summer holiday.

I may not have seen much of the local heritage, but the trip to Italy taught me something new all the same. 

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear