Travel is Dangerous

So, I mentioned not long ago that I'd been on a brief trip to Madrid, and that I'd struggled getting back because of the weather. It had been snowing, which made a lot of people very angry. I don't quite understand that - getting angry at the snow is like getting angry at the Moon, it won't change anything.

Anyway, our flight provider sorted us out with a hotel room for the night. Hotel Auditorium is the largest in Europe, and you can tell. Sadly it's also in the middle of nowhere, so there wasn't really much for us to do. We read a little. We ate our complimentary buffet dinner. We watched Barcelona destroy Madrid at football in the over-priced hotel bar.

We needed to be back at the airport for 6am, which meant rising at 4am. Fun times. We flew from Madrid to Gatwick, then (after threats of a four-hour delay which turned out to be hollow) from Gatwick to Glasgow. Not our planned route, or on our planned day, but in the end I was back in my flat only 25 hours after I expected to be.

No harm done really. I tend not to stress about these situations. However, on arriving back I was dog tired. I'd also been wearing basically the same outfit for 25 hours longer than I'd planned to. I wanted a shower, a sleep and a real meal. In that order.

After my shower and before my sleep I bundled all of my clothes from the trip into the washing machine. I'm organised like that. After a delicious nap, I arose, and went into the kitchen to deal with my nice clean clothes and my dinner.

On opening the washing machine I discovered A Terrible Thing. Bits of papery stuff mixed among my clothes. What's this? My passport case? How did that get in here? ...Oh.

It seems my passport was still in my pocket. It was very clean, and utterly useless. No way I'll be leaving the country with it.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I have had to apply for two passports in two years. There's a lesson to be learned here somewhere.

Haiku

Ice on Glasgow's streets,

A man slips,

Goodbye dignity.

Music from downstairs,

No more sleep.

Anger reigns again.

Which shoes should I wear?

It's raining!

Middle class problems.

It is 3am.

I should sleep,

but I'm on Facebook.

As You Like It

Challenge time!
Lets play a game where we try to make the phrase "I like my men like I like my _____: ______" as horrific as possible. I'll start us off.

"I like my men like I like my _____: ______"

Coffee: Rich and trapped in a sack.

Films: Funny and violent... or foreign.

Science: Hard and strictly physical.

Heels: High and dangerous.

Books: Thick and bound in leather.

Jeans: Distressed and slightly too big for me.

Steak: Rare, but definitely dead.

Right, your turn. Think you can do worse? Bring it on.

Birthday Stats

General stats

Real Name: Becky Douglas

Nicknames: Becka, Wench, Wenchy, Wenchstress, Helgar the Wench, Ohshititsher, English, Beckto, Le Becs Fontaine, Fatty, etc, etc.

Age: Mind your own.

Appearance: Impeccable.

Height: 5'7", but I feel taller than last year.

Shoe size: 5, since you ask.

Do you act your age or your shoe size? Probably closer to the latter.

Occupation: Student and general layabout.

Birthday stats:

Birthday wishes received;

-in person: 18

-on the phone: 3

-by text: 7

-through facebook: 58 0_o

-through twitter: 1

-from companies via email: 8. Nice.

Conclusions:

1. Maybe I should remove myself from a few mailing lists.

2. Facebook really is taking over the world, but that's OK, because if I'd had to reply to 58 texts, or answer 58 calls today I would have had a meltdown.

3. More of my friends need to get twitter. Or maybe I need to get more friends. :-/

I had a lovely day. Thanks everyone for messages, cards (somehow not important to this survey), calls, hugs, gifts and fun times. I'm going to go find my walking stick.

Birthday

Today is my birthday.

If you guys skipped the singing this year, I think I'd pretty much be fine with that.

Thanks.

Eggs Studente

I have invented a breakfast!

Eggs Studente

Ingredients:

• One croissant
• One egg
• Butter
• Rocket
• Salt and pepper

Method:

1. Poach the egg in slightly salted water.
2. Meanwhile, warm the croissant with a quick zap in the microwave.
3. Split the croissant and butter it lightly.
4. Fill with the egg, add salt and pepper, and a handful of rocket.
5. Enjoy your almost-posh breakfast.

Easy!

Bookmarked

In November I went to Madrid for a weekend. At each airport we passed through airport security without problems. Except at Gatwick, which we only ended up at because of the weather. I bleeped when walking through the x-ray, and the security lady flagged up my handbag as containing something suspicious.

Now, anyone who knows me knows that I am dreadfully untrustworthy. However, people who don't know me usually can't tell. I suspect that this is why I only got stopped once on our trip. Not that I'm a terrorist, just that I'm your average, middle-class, white girl, so I don't even look like a terrorist.

I permitted the security lady to search me (I have no idea what would have happened if I'd refused the search. Probably something violent). When she was certain I didn't have a knife in my boot or a dynamite belt around my waist she let me pass.

I permitted the security gentleman to search my handbag. I promised him it contained no needles or anything else sharp or dangerous. He removed all my electronic equipment and scanned it. I'm a geek, that was a lot of stuff, it felt like it took an age. He then removed my book, which contained this:

That's my bookmark. It is metal, and hooked, and I suppose a bit suspicious if you haven't seen one before. Although the person who flagged it had not, the gentleman searching my handbag had.

I had a bit of a Moment. I thought he was going to confiscate it. That was fine, if he did so I'd probably be allowed on the plane and I'd get home. I wasn't worried about that, I had a much greater concern.

"Ah, sorry. Um, would you mind if I just checked my page number?"

He cocked an eyebrow.

"You're not dangerous."

He took the bookmark to show to the lady behind the desk. He brought it back and carefully inserted into the book at the correct page. He chuckled, and sent me on my way.

Nick, exasperated, commented that this is why I should just use a bit of card like everyone else. Card isn't nearly so pretty, but I may consider using it for future flights.

Resolution

I just realised that my previous post was in fact the first post of 2011, and that I haven't done a New Years' Resolution entry yet.

I asked a couple of friends for ideas, first via facebook. This was not useful, suggestions ranged from giving up physics to building a teleporter. My ever hilarious flat mate suggested I loose some f**king weight. That's the kind of wit you can cut yourself on.

So, I got brave and went into the real world. I asked some people there. Not randomers, that would be weird, I asked my friends. Someone suggested doing more of whatever I wished I had more time for last year.

So, as a result, here are my New Years Resolutions:

1. Play more video games.

2. Bake more cake.

3. Make better use of your shoe collection (expanding it where possible).

I think I'll be a genuinely better person if I succeed.

By the by, my spell-checker is not happy about "facebook" or "teleporter" which leads me to believe that it is from the past.

Nitwit

Here is a conversation via text message between myself and my chap (I am in italics, because they're girly):

Hey, want to meet up some time next week? xxx

Yeah well I figured we'd meet up at the weekend anyway. xxx

Ok, sounds good. I reckon we should get sushi :) xxx

Yeah sure. I could come over Monday if you'd prefer. I don't know if you have anything planned. xxx

Monday as in tomorrow? I have Red Cross stuff on. The weekend is fine if it's ok for you too. xxx

I meant Monday as in your birthday :P

-----

True story. Time kind of sneaks up on you like that sometimes. I wouldn't go so far as to say I'd forgotten my birthday - I knew that it was soon - I'd just forgotten how soon it was.

So, as one might expect, as I am getting older I am becoming senile. It's the only explanation. Who's surprised?

Plans

Being a bit of a geek meant that I was rather excited about the new Tron movie. I was extra excited when I learned that it's release day (today) coincided with the day of my only exam this semester. I expressed a desire to go see it after my exam, at the Imax, by way of celebrating post-exam freedom.

Harry and Gav agreed to come along. We decided booking would be a good idea if we intended to go on the release day, and went directly to the Imax website. So, when it turned out that they had an early viewing of the film, starting at 00:01 on Friday 17th December - I could not resist.

"This is going to be perfect!"

Ten minutes after booking I realised that 00:01 was before 13:00, which is my exam time today. This meant that rather than getting an early night and plenty of rest, I was going to watch a sci-fi film at midnight.

I could have cancelled and booked later tickets. I admit that this was always an option. An option I ignored.

We got back at 3am. I'm sure my exam will go just fine, it is only general physics. Pass the coffee.

[Edit: 16:35: The film was awesome by the way. Oh, and yeah, the exam was fine.]

Frost

The sun is warm, but the ice is slippery.

I've always wanted to say that in context and today I could. Although most of the snow has melted, or been pushed into lumpy, icy piles at street corners, the pavements are now coated in a fine film of frost.

It's truly beautiful, of course. Sparkling and delicate and dangerous. It's amazing that this much water was there to freeze - I didn't think we had had much precipitation in the past week. The last we had was real snow.

It would be sensible to avoid leaving the flat until the frost melts. I do not have the necessary footwear, which I admit is a bit of a shock. You see, I no longer have a pair of walking boots, and I rather object to the idea of wearing walking boots in the middle of a city anyway.

Sadly it seems that my trainers do not have enough grip to deal with the frost. This is deduced from how often today I slipped on the ice. What if I had fallen? The risk isn't worth it. Perhaps I would have broken a bone. Perhaps my laptop. If I had fallen when crossing the street I could have been hit by a bus!

Worse! What if someone saw me? The indignity! I shall remain indoors.

General Physics Exam

Question:

If the law were changed so that traffic in Great Britain travelled on the right-hand side of the road instead of on the left, would the length of the day increase, decrease or be unaltered? Explain the reasoning behind your answer.

Answer:

It would be unaltered.

Driving in the opposite direction to the Earth's rotation may have some effect due to the conservation of angular momentum, but roads in Britain go in many directions, so the effect would cancel out.

When the driving in the opposite direction to the Earth's rotation, angular momentum is required, so when the car starts a small fraction is "robbed" from the planet. However, this will be returned as soon as the car stops - in fact, it is necessary if the car is to stop thanks to the conservation of angular momentum. Friction takes care of the stopping (and hence the return of momentum) for you.

Even if we assume that people drive in the opposite direction, and do not stop, sooner or later they are going to give in and come home. Probably they will do this before completing half a circuit of the Earth's circumference (after all, we're only looking at Britain), so it will make the most sense to come back the way they came. Travelling in the opposite direction will also return the momentum to the Earth.

If we ignore all this, and pretend that either stopping, returning, or other cars moving in other directions does not lead to a cancelling out of the removal of angular momentum, we still encounter a problem. The Earth is huge, your car is not. The effect of a car's momentum being gained from the Earth would be so minor that it would likely not be measurable, since the mass of the Earth is so much greater. So, since the difference between the mass of the car and the mass of the Earth is so great, the change in the length of the day would be negligible.

That is, unless your mum is driving the car. Fortunately, she's too stupid to drive.

I thank you.

Justification

I accidentally bought a new hoodie last week. It was too expensive, but then, suddenly it was in the sale. Still too expensive, but I'd wanted it for ages, and my will was broken. I caved in and bought it. Incidentally it is now my favourite hoodie. In general I don't really like or wear the things, but this is 100% merino wool, which makes it ethical and super warm. It's also beautiful.

So, the only thing I feel guilty about is the price (which I shan't share with you). Now, I know that guilt is bad for you and that it can give you heart problems. I wouldn't want to die and make everyone sad, so I'm doing what I can to alleviate my guilt. I have (very responsibly) formulated a cunning plan. I think you'll like it, because you can probably implement it yourself and use it to justify all kinds of purchases.

Every time I wear the hoodie I shall make a note of the fact, until I have worn it as many times as it cost in pounds. That way, it only cost me £1 per wear, which sounds pretty cheap when you think of it that way. See? The perfection of the plan is in its simplicity.

Of course, I wouldn't want to stop there - I know when I'm onto a good idea after all. Also, I might not want to stop wearing it after... um... that many times. So, once I've got to that point I will start putting £1 in a jar (or rather, my savings account) for every further time I wear it. Later, when it's starting to look a bit sad, I can use the money to buy a new one!

Admit it. I'm a genius.

When can I be rich?

Elegance

Last January my flatmates got me a beautiful calligraphy set for my birthday, along with a book for practising in and an instruction book. It's probably my mother's fault that I like calligraphy, but it's my flatmates' fault that I'm now a little more skilled at it.

Writing lecture notes in a range of hands with different nibs and inks is always fun. It also means you end up producing a set of notes that you don't hate looking at. Oh, and because it takes so freakin' long you've basically learned everything you've written down by the time you're done. I'm at a speed now where I can write notes in calligraphy during the lecture - provided it's not a lecture where the whole time is spent writing.

I've learned a range of hands - from the relatively basic and pretty such as French Ronde to the complex and and elegant (if somewhat illegible) Black Letter. I've wasted many a happy hour carefully pencilling out guide-lines until I get the hang of sizing letters with a new pen and carefully removing them afterwards so no one can tell. Adding squiggly, curly, dotty designs and colouring things in is also entertaining.

I am a kind and giving person, so I'd love it if my skills could help others. Up until now though, I haven't had the confidence in myself to share them. What if I offered and then it all went wrong? I should be mortified.

Imagine then my glee when Harry volunteered me for making posters for the uni's Red Cross group. Not just any posters either - these are for the world AIDs day call to action event. It's a band night. They just want fairly basic things, some slogans written on card. I've been practising, and I don't actually think it should give me any trouble. (Plus I get to use my poster pen, which is very exciting).

I'm just slightly unsure. Do I really want this to be the first public display of my work, as it were? After all, the slogans are... well, see for yourself.

• "Wrap it before you tap it."
• "No balloon? No party!"
• "Listen to your granny, protect your fanny."
• "Condomise then womanise... or sodomise."
• "Protect your winkle before you sprinkle."

Somehow I don't think that a hand that is based upon the lettering commissioned by Emperor Trajan in Rome in around A.D.114 is quite appropriate. Maybe bubble letters? Perhaps graffiti-style text? No? Well, they're having none of it either.

I don't think I'll be signing them...

Get innocuous

Innocuous, adj, not harmful or offensive.

I'm not an enormous fan of LCD soundsystem; I consider most of their music to be a unique blend of whiny and dull. I do like the odd song, maybe two or three per album, and I seem to remember not hating get innocuous. However, I couldn't tell you how the song goes, I don't know what any of the other lyrics are, I can't hum the tune.

Maybe if I heard it I'd be able to say "oh yeah, I remember now." Maybe not, I wouldn't like to put money on it. I think perhaps Soulwax did a good remix of it.

Anyway. The phrase, not the song, not the idea, but the phrase itself has been stuck in my head for a good two weeks now. Every now and again the impulse the say it allowed occurs. Thus far I have resisted (in public). I'm told that getting words and phrases stuck in you head is not normal, but I'm disinclined to believe this. I feel fine.

Perhaps it's a sign. Not sure what for. Maybe I should obey it - I'm not sure I could currently claim to be either harmless or inoffensive, perhaps I ought to change my ways. On the other hand, if I do I'll be obeying the voices in my head. That probably is a problem.

Upside? I now have a good reason to avoid being harmless and inoffensive. Not that I needed an excuse, but I'm damned if I'm not going to use it now it's here.

Identity Crisis

Over the weekend I have been:

• A pirate
• A drunk
• A cowboy
• A fund-raiser
• A willing volunteer
• A cook
• A zombie
• Asleep.

I haven't been the vampire I planned to be on Saturday night, but these things happen. I also haven't been much like a dedicated physics student - but these things happen too. Besides, I get to be a student all the time.

Life would be much more interesting if dressing up were more acceptable on a more regular basis. There's a good chance you had a dressing-up box (or at least a dressing-kit) as a child. You were happier back then, weren't you? Let's go back to that.

Happy Hallowe'en.

Addict

My Amazon recommended list under "Books":

-Concepts in Thermal Physics - Stephen J. Blundell

-A First Course in General Relativity - Bernard Schutz

-Introduction to Elementary Particles - David Griffiths

-An Introduction to Modern Cosmology, 2nd Edition - Andrew Liddle

-Schaum's Outline of Optics - Eugene Hecht

-Lectures on Quantum Mechanics - Paul A. M. Dirac

-'What Do You Care What Other People Think?': Further Adventures of a Curious Character - Richard P. Feynman

-The Pleasure of Finding Things Out - Richard P. Feynman

-The Character of Physical Law - Richard P. Feynman

-Atomic Physics - D. C. G. Jones

-The Meaning of it All - Richard P. Feynman

-Mathematical Techniques: An Introduction for the Engineering, Physical, and Mathematical Sciences - Dominic Jordan

-Introduction to Fourier Optics - Joseph W. Goodman

-Particle Physics - Brian Martin

-An Introduction to the Physics of Nuclei and Particles - Richard Dunlap

That isn't edited, that's just the first 15 books (i.e. the first page of recommendations) that comes up. I'm willing to accept that I may have a problem - but I dispute any suggestion that I have some kind of Feynman addiction. I only own the 2nd volume of his lectures and his Easy and Not so Easy Pieces (not including the rest of the lectures on audio-book, or the copy of Surely You Must be Joking Mr Feynman that I picked up for the physics society library)

I just ordered a physics text book from amazon - hence noticing my recommendations. Principles of Optics by Born and Wolf if you must know. I ordered it because it was recommended as being useful for my project (which is on solid state physics, not optics, but nevermind). I don't have a copy, the society's library doesn't have a copy, the main library has three - but the only one available for long-term loan won't be back 'til November and I've never been cruel enough to request books back. Ordering it was my only option.

That's how it happens.That's how you wind up in a situation where you have more books for your course than you have books of any other kind - including fiction. It starts by getting the main recommended text for each course. Next you pick up any other text mentioned more than once because "it might be useful to have alternative explanation." After that you'll buy anything recommended at all, provided you can find a copy for under £10. Before you know it you're acquiring books by accident and you're running out of shelf-space.

Add this to the fact that I'm acting as the society's librarian this term - giving me full and constant access to the library - and I'm still buying books, and you'll understand the gravity of the situation.

I am an addict. I am ready to admit that. At least it's not crack.

Influence Map

This looked like fun, so I put one together. The idea is you find pictures representing things that influence you and then use it when you need inspiration later. Of course, realistically an unfathomable number of things influence us, so a "map" like this can never be complete. Still, they're quite entertaining to make.

Summer Scorcher

I have enjoyed summer. I have completed a Summer project. I have holiday-ed in London and Cornwall. I have chilled with family and friends in a number of locations. I have returned to Glasgow and I have found employment within nine days (no doubt I'll talk more about that in future posts).

This blog isn't really about nice things though. This blog is more often about dreadful (if amusing) things that happen to me. Presumably I deserve them for being such a shocker of an individual, but I'd rather not dwell on superstitions.

Cornwall then. Fantastic house, and let me begin by telling you a nice fact - even if that's not what this space is for. Sitting in a hot tub, with a glass of rum on the rocks, is quite simply the very best way to start your day.

Anyway. To balance things out. I took my much-beloved, limited edition, purple, ghd hair straighteners with me to Cornwall. I do tend to straighten my hair more often when I'm on holiday; I suppose it's because I have so much more time on my hands. All is vanity.

On the very last day (not the day that we thought was the last but turned out not to be) I decided to straighten my hair. Because the device is utterly adorable it emits two beeps when working; one when you turn it on and one when it's hot enough to use - which should be about 200°C. I heard the second beep, picked the straighteners up and clamped them down upon a section of my hair at the back.

This section instantly melted. Hissssssssssssssssss. Arghhhhhhhhhhhh! A quick google search tells me that the melting point of human hair varies with it's hydration, and that around 270°C is the maximum it can stand (who did that study? I should probably have saved the paper). Mine was potentially very slightly damp, although I had already blow-dried it. However, I dispute any possibility that the fault was mine.

Not only was the temperature hot enough to laminate my hair to the ceramic plates, it was hot enough to melt the glue which held the plates into the plastic. Not knowing what kind of glue they used (even though I'm an expert on the subject) I'm unable to find a realistic answer for the temperature using google. As a result I'm going to go for "it was as hot as the Sun" and let you do the googling.

In conclusion; my Ghd's ruined my hair, my day, and themselves. In approximately 5 seconds, which might be a record. If only my blog was influential enough to make them worry about their sales.

They won't though, and I know why. Even though I experienced a massive and traumatising malfunction with my set, they're still the best pair of straighteners I've ever had. I've got quite thick hair, and I've noticed it has a tendency to grow back, even if cut (or frazzled). So even though this whole ordeal was truly horrific, I'll probably get a new pair when I can afford one.

It wouldn't be unfair to accuse me of being shallow regarding this. However, after having time to calm down, I honestly feel that the most disappointing result is that I probably won't be able to find another pair in purple.

Trade

It had come to my attention that I no longer used my once much-loved Nintendo DSi. A sad thing to notice indeed. Nevertheless, I am a practical person, and if I have no use for a thing I once admired I know that I ought to give it up. I decided to trade it at Game, for credit, so that I might later purchase something I would rather have.

I took the console and my games (not trifling number I may add) to the store and gave them away. In return I received their value on a gift card. I left the establishment and threw away the bag I had been using to carry them. I wandered the town centre, picking up the odd item until I eventually found myself standing outside a different branch of Game.

I had previously decided against spending my credit that day, but I changed my mind, and entered. Soon a pleasant young man with a strong accent and a bad hair-cut was telling me things I didn't need to know about products I didn't want to buy. It was cool in the shop, though, and he wasn't being impolite, so I pretended to care about his opinions. I chose a few items (carefully disregarding his advice) and took them the the counter. A different young man was about to give me advice I didn't need on what had already chosen when I realised the gift card was gone. I rifled through my handbag and pockets: Nothing. I stammered excuses and left.

I searched my bag twice more to no avail. Then it struck me; the card must have been in the bag I had thrown away. Hellfire! I returned to the shopping centre and found a cleaner. I explained to her my predicament. She told me the bins had been emptied and it was likely that the rubbish inside them had been crushed, but radioed her comrade anyway. He arrived shortly thereafter and said he had been on his break - crushing had not yet occurred! Delight.

He vanished to the basement to search for my bag, warning me that he may be gone some time. I waited. He returned, bag in hand. I rejoiced until I opened it and discovered it empty. I may as well have simply thrown my unwanted gadgetry away. I explained what had been in the bag, and, noting my distress, he agreed to go have another look.

The minutes dragged by. I began to wonder if the card had ever existed at all. Perhaps my receipt would suffice? Doubtful. Eventually he returned, a small slip of held between fingers like pincers. "Is this it?" He queried.

"Yes! I can't believe you actually found it!"

"It's a bit messy I'm afraid, but you must be the luckiest person in the world."

The delightful little chap may have something there. The card was coated in grime, but it didn't bother me - I removed it with some ultra-cute tissues I had acquired during my earlier wanderings. I returned to the store and bought the items I had left behind earlier. The boy who's advice I had ignored had by now realised that I'd been ignoring him, he glared at me, I didn't care.

I may in the past have asserted that luck does not exist. I still consider this to be true. In spite of this fact, I do seem to have an awful lot of it.