Graphene

There's an interesting science program on Radio 4 called The Material World that I often catch when I'm in the car driving from work to pick Nikki up. Today it was about something called Graphene, which I'd never heard of before but which sounds very exciting. I knew of Buckminsterfullerene (or bucky balls) which is made of a number of carbon atoms - 60 if I remember right - arranged in a sphere or ball shape and is one of the most stable carbon molecules to be discovered. It's named after Buckminster Fuller, the American architect who invented the geodesic dome, because the carbon atoms are laid out in hexagons and pentagons around the face of the sphere in exactly the same way as a dome is constructed.

Well graphene, it turns out, is a planar sheet of carbon atoms just one atom thick - a bit like a bucky ball that's been unzipped and laid out flat. Actually that's not entirely accurate because to be a perfectly flat sheet the atoms must be laid out in hexagonal cells only. The pentagons that are necessary to achieve a spherical shape, if present in graphene, cause it to bend into other shapes. Carbon nanotubes, which have caused such excitement recently in the field of nanotechnology because of their potential use in building very small structures, are simply rolls (cylinders) of graphene.

The really exciting thing about this stuff is that electrons on a sheet of graphene act as if they have no mass. They move as if they were light waves. This makes graphene extremely conductive (I think the guy on the radio show said something like a thousand million times more conductive than copper) and hence a much better bet to use in microchips. Since its isolation in 2004 graphene has become relatively easy and cheap to manufacture (it looks like soot) and physics is now in the middle of an experimental phase learning more about its amazing properties before coming up with real-world applications. The potential for extreme microminiaturisation using graphene is high, and graphene-based transistors have already been made.

If you're interested there's more on Wikipedia (as always!) and some of the external links at the bottom of that page make fascinating reading too.

Serendipity, or the hand of fate

Making sure you're in the right place at the right time is often the key to success in business, or in life. Sometimes, you don't need to make any effort for this to happen. It's as if the cosmos conspires to put you where you need to be without your conscious involvement. This happened to me today.

I've been working in Croydon for most of this year, travelling down there on the train usually once a week, often more. In all that time I've never driven myself to Piccadilly station from home: I've always taken a cab. Today, following a conversation with a colleague who takes pride in submitting the minimum expenses claims possible, my conscience was pricked and I decided to drive in and save a bit of the firm's money.

Arriving at the station after the morning rush, I discovered the surface car park opposite the station was full. I checked out the short-stay car park at the station but this cost more than price of two taxi rides, so that was a non-starter. I ended up having to park in Charles Street - about a ten minute walk away and still costing the same as a single taxi ride.

On the way home on the train this evening I was thinking about the walk back to the car, and wishing I could jump straight into a warm taxi right outside the main door of the station rather than have to walk to the car park. It wasn't raining - it could easily have been - but it was still bitterly cold, so I decided this would be the last time I worried about saving on expense claims. For the sake of eight quid I would remain comfortably ensconced in warm taxis from now on.

A few minutes later walking down Whitworth Street on my way to the car park, a woman approached me from the other side of the road. She looked really distraught.

"Can you help me?" she pleaded. Before I had time to react, she held up a car key in front of my face and continued, "look, here's my car key, just to prove what I'm saying. My car is parked over there and I've got almost no petrol left. I just need a gallon to get me home, so I'm asking three people for a pound and no-one will listen to me! I didn't want to ask for all the money in one go because three pounds is a lot to ask for isn't it? But can you give me a pound?"

This area of the city is full of vagrants and beggars, but even though she wasn't especially well dressed it was clear she wasn't one of them and the story rang true. I thought ruefully that even if it wasn't true, she deserved full marks for coming up with something so original. I looked in my pocket, intending right away to give her all the money she needed. Whitworth Street was pretty deserted at that time of night and it looked to me like her chances of finding two other people prepared to give her any money were slim to none. I asked her if £3 was really enough to get her home and where home was?

"I'm staying with my Mum in Holmfirth," she replied. An uncanny coincidence, as anyone who's read my website will know, because I used to live two miles away from Holmfirth. Without intending to prove or disprove her story, I engaged the lady in a brief conversation about the area and it was clear she knew it well. I counted out £4 in coin and handed it over with the hope that she find a petrol station somewhere close and have a safe journey home. With obvious relief she thanked me and returned across the road in the direction she'd said her car was in.

Continuing on along Whitworth Street my main thought for the first few steps was a concern that I'd given her a good chunk of my remaining cash and might not now have enough left to release my car from Charles Street car park, but I hadn't gone more than twenty yards when the reality of what had just happened hit me. This was the reason - the only reason - I had "decided" to drive into the city today for the first time this year. So that I could be there, on Whitworth Street, at exactly the right time to meet that woman and help her out. It's as if I was picked up and put there. I felt a shiver of something more than the night's cold run through me, and the frustrations and tensions of the day fell away leaving me with wonderful sense of rightness. I hope she made it home alright.

Half century celebrations #3

With uncanny serendipity, the day after my birthday was the start of a girls' weekend (you might even think we planned it that way ;o)) so the celebrations continued for another two days.

On arrival at the house, my beautiful daughters presented me with the most original, thoughtful and touching birthday present ever! "We knew we had to get you something," they said, "but we didn't know what...so we came up with this," and they handed me a heavy, suede-bound notebook upon which they had mounted the title "Book of Memories." Inside, on the first couple of dozen pages, they had glued a selection of photos, programs, tickets and drawings of many of the times we'd shared together. Holidays, baby photos, school drawings, programs from Christmas concerts, all with added messages of fun and love.

I flicked through the book with a huge smile on my face and a burgeoning tear in my eye - what a great idea! Thanks girls, that is the most special present and I will keep it and add to it with our new memories always.

This was also, coincidentally, the weekend we met Natalie's boyfriend for the first time. OK, can I say that having written that sentence I've now been sitting here for ten minutes trying to decide what else to write. It's not that I feel I have to say nice things (cos who knows who will be reading this, right?), because to do that would not be hard. It wouldn't be "an effort" to find something nice to say. It's more that...I guess some Dads would build it up to be a big deal meeting a daughter's first serious b/f for the first time, but it never really felt like that. He's a nice lad, very polite, has a good sense of humour (and I don't just mean he laughed at my jokes, before you start - he gave as good as he got) but really none of that is important to me. The main thing - the only important thing - is that he makes Natalie happy, and as long as he continues to do that he's alright with me.

So the celebrations continued with an evening visit to the Nawaab - our local and much-loved curry buffet restaurant - which never fails to impress - followed by a group watching of Galaxy Quest (a family favourite). It doesn't get much better than this! I never knew being 50 would be so much fun!

Half century celebrations #2

It's always a pisser when your birthday falls on a working day isn't it? Well actually, not this time.

For a start I was working from home, which is always much more relaxed and convivial. A good supply of tea and the quiet atmosphere broken only by the obligatory 10 o'clock revving of the neighbour's Reliant Robin engine as he reversed out of his garage. Today the atmosphere was greatly improved by the early arrival of two esteemed colleagues for an "off-site meeting" at MANJB - the new designation of our house which (kind of) follows the coding convention applied to our office locations.

After the obligatory tour of the premises (one of the guys had not been here before), second pot of tea, and connection of the mini-switch to the home network to give them both access to the corporate VPN, we settled down to discuss important matters of business. It was a bit of a crush since we still only have one table in the study (the other is doing double-duty as a kitchen table at the moment pending relocation of the microwave), but that only served to engender a sort of enforced camaraderie and a feeling of "camping out" which added to the fun.

With the massed brains all firing at full capacity the work was quickly dispensed with and we repaired to the pub for lunch. I'd selected the excellent Metropolitan in West Didsbury and despite the car park being almost full on our arrival we managed to secure seats on the comfy sofas, settle back and enjoy a pint of Tim Taylor's Landlord and a fine lunch (made even tastier by the fact that my colleagues insisted on paying for it in honour of my birthday).

With beer and excellent conversation flowing freely the time passed all too quickly and we realised we were pretty much the only ones left in the place, so the lads drove us back to MANJB, picked up their stuff and headed off leaving me to put the final touches to our presentation just in time to pick Nikki up from work.

The celebrations continued almost without pause as we then headed straight out for birthday dinner at one of our favourite restaurants before the evening rush started. The perfect end to a perfect day, and the celebrations weren't over yet!

Half century celebrations #1

I miss being the oldest out of my mates from Nottingham by eight days, beaten off the top spot by Ritchie, but since this year those eight days were bifurcated almost exactly by a weekend, that was the natural time to celebrate. We headed off to Chesterfield, arriving midday Saturday and intending to spend the afternoon ambling around Chatsworth gardens.

Unfortunately our visit was curtailed by news of serious family illness so while half our party shot off to deal with that, the rest of us repaired to the Wheatsheaf in Baslow for a few comforting pints, returning to Chesterfield early evening where the party was almost completely reunited. After a surprise exchange of presents to mark the significance of the occasion we walked around the corner to one of Phil's many locals and enjoyed another couple of pints there, being very lucky to secure a table by the door before the Saturday night crowds mobbed the place. Around 9pm we took a further short walk to our chosen eaterie for the evening, the Golden Star, where we enjoyed some of the most fabulous Chinese I've had in years. Funny...the food remains clear in my memory, but I can't remember a thing we talked about at the table the whole evening. The walk home is a bit blurry too.

The double is

I don't know if this was a regional phenomenon years ago, but for the first eighteen years of my life I never heard the double is. When I went up to UMIST I became friends with a guy from Windsor who used it all the time. I used to take the piss out of him mercilessly and he could never understand it. As far as he was concerned it was perfectly normal to say "The difference is is that I come from the South," or "What I think is is he should not of (sic) done it," or "reaching out for human faith is is like a journey I just don't have a map for."

Brief Net research suggests this abomination began in the United States (source of most English grammar mangling, unfortunately) around 1971 - which explains why I didn't hear it until 1975 - and jumped the Atlantic relatively quickly, worse luck.

In the last 10-15 years, like most appalling grammatical errors, the incorrect double is usage has gained wider currency. Whether this is due to the diaspora of "estuary English" or the dire state of grammar teaching in schools (by which I mean the almost total lack of...) or a combination of those I don't know, but it can now be heard regularly all over the country, even on what used to be considered the last bastion of grammatical correctness: Radio 4 (although the presenters on there now can't even manage their verb-subject agreement properly most of the time).

It's almost as if the speaker believes the first 'is' has become part of the preceding word. That's often how it's spoken: all run together. In the examples above it's "difference-is" or "think-is" etc.

There is, of course, a correct usage of the double is, but it is far rarer than current usage would have you believe. Used mainly for emphasis, your response to the question "what is that?" for instance, might be: "What that is, is a way of explaining how to use the double is."

The difference is that (not "is is that") in the correct usage the first "is" is always followed by a comma and is not run into the preceding word as if they were one. Try it - strike a blow for good English and a return to how things should be. And if you hear it used on Radio 4? Get on to the complaints show.

If is is is bad enough, then more recent developments are even worse. Some kind of bastardised past tense has been introduced, so we get constructs like "The only thing was is..." and only last week on The X Factor I heard Simon Cowell say "The difference being is that..." Aargh!

Back to School

My elder daughter had an interview today at Manchester University and asked me to go with her, which of course I gladly did. Apart from the chance to spend the day with her and have her stay over an extra night beforehand, which is always welcome, it meant I could revisit the hallowed halls of my university years - or at least very close to them since I was a UMIST man.

We arrived early and wandered up and down Oxford Street for a few minutes taking in the University Precinct and the student cafe until it was time to register for the event. Most of the early birds seemed to have come alone or brought young friends with them and for a while I thought I was going to be the only parent there, but after ten minutes or so it became clear this wasn't the case and I relaxed a little on Natalie's behalf. Registration complete, the "ambassadors" called us up to Whitworth hall - a most impressive oak-pillared hall already laid out with lunch which we helped ourselves to, found a seat and sat watching the rolling Powerpoint presentation detailing the Life Science departments successes while we munched on our sandwiches and canapes.

After lunch students and guests separated, and Natalie went off for her interview. Us parents and friends were treated to a tour of the campus which I found very interesting given that I'd not spent a lot of time in "Owens" buildings. I was a little insulted to find that, since the merger of the two Universities in 2004, UMIST was now referred to as "the North campus." It seemed to belittle the achievements of that fine institution and reduce it to the status of an annexe. I was reminded of the agricultural department of my home town Uni - Nottingham - which is situated in Sutton Bonington several miles south of the city and always feels like a second class citizen. Now here was my old stomping ground reduced to a similar status. I was affronted!

Still the girl assigned as our ambassador for the day - Dannika - did an excellent job showing us around the main library, the students' union, the university precinct and health centre and the main life sciences block. I was struck by how much had changed in thirty years and how much had stayed the same. The demonstration plastered all over the union building concerned abortion being a woman's right to choose - exactly the same topic as we had campaigned on in the mid 70s - and in the laboratories, aside from the water and gas taps being colour-coded and the benches being equipped with LAN points, things were pretty much as I remembered them to be. Yet in speaking with Dannika I learned that her degree course was in a branch of Biochemistry that hadn't been invented when I was at UMIST. Back then, the whole subject had been lumped together in a single course. In the interim thirty years so much more has been learned that the course has been split several times, and now there are many different Biochemistry degrees one can study.

One tradition I was glad to hear hadn't changed was the Friday Night 'Bop' at Owen's Park hall of residence. Some things are worth hanging on to! When I found out this was still going on it turned me all philosophical, wondering why it is that good things have to change - or be changed by people who don't understand their importance. I decided that outside of academia (I hesitate to call it the "real" world) things often become jaded. If you are working at a job or in a company that is the same year after year, you might feel you have to ring the changes just to keep your interest from flagging. Students never hang round long enough for this to become an issue. Most people are conservative (with a small 'c') in nature and most degree courses are only three years long, so by the time a student has become familiar with a local tradition like the Bop, or even grown with it to the point where they take over its organisation and running, it's time to hand the baton to someone else who has arrived and become enamoured with the tradition and keen to keep it going. No-one has time to get bored with it and think it needs changing.

Returning to the main hall and reunited with Natalie, we were treated to a final, in-depth look at university and faculty life. I watched the glossy presentation with half my attention, but having already switched into philosophical mode I couldn't help but be distracted by the thought that this time next year my first-born daughter would be here, or somewhere very like here, spreading her academic and social wings and (if you'll forgive the mixed metaphor) swimming in a much larger pond than she is used to.

I well remember the excitement of those first few weeks at UMIST (sorry, the "North campus") and in a way I envy her the burgeoning opportunity. Only it's not envy. I wouldn't take her place and deprive her of the chance to do it. It's more ... second-hand excitement. Excitement at the thought of all the experiences she has to come: the new friends she'll make; the new things she'll learn; and the growing she'll do as a person.

Go mail

I complied with their request and the redirection service kicked in today - almost three weeks after we moved. What about all that mail we were missing? I called the estate agent and they called the new owner. Yes, they had a pile of mail and had been worrying about what to do with it! When I eventually picked it up from the estate agent I found, amongst other things, a credit card bill that had gone overdue for payment the day before, costing me a late payment charge as well as over fifty quid in interest. I don't suppose the Post Office would be interested in settling a compensation claim?