The three ways of science - Introduction

This is a series of articles I've playing around with for a while. It strikes me that for all the publicity science might get at random times, its rare that anyone describes what doing the science is like, rather than why you do it. So why not give a little taster as to what yonder scientists do to do science? If you think about, there's three big areas that most research scientists/engineers work in to discover stuff;

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  Theoretical Models - Deriving equations from either other equations/first principles to derive a relationship between a number factors using mathematical functions. Ultimately this is the model thats being tested whenever you do computational work or experiments. Not this isn't just for fundamental discoveries, often this is necessary to derive an experimental methodology or even a way to implement computer code See Numerical Methods
  
  
  
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  Computational Simulations - The newest comer to the field. This wonderful, wonderful new tool has only been with us for 65 years (Babbage's engines never really being used for research, only gunnery tables. Boo!), but in that time has probably been the most profound step in speeding up the progress of research since the discovery of calculus. It makes it possible to solve things that can't be solved with analytical mathematics, allows us to quickly extract predictions from new theories, and is even used to design experiments to design experiments. Yes that's a double. This is crazy shit dude.
  
  
  
  
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  Experimental Measurements - The grand daddy of them all. And still, ultimately the final decider of the truth/accuracy of science. And somewhat annoyingly still the most annoying to do. Because often the universe has so many phenomena happening on top of one another, you just have to sift through that much data to get an answer beyond kinda. And, from my experiences, still the most fun.
  
  

So, ready to explore?

Media watched science...

..Now science watch media. Now the media have been reporting on scientists for... well, centuries. Even since the dawn of easy intercontinental communication we've had newspapers reporting on various parts of science, our man Einstein being a classic example (a good read just for old reporting style). We've had the early days of the nuclear age, the wonder of the Apollo missions, the swing into the 80s pop science led by Carl Sagan and the good Mr. Feynman. Even recently we've had Auntie churning out science programmes like a baby on crack. Wonders of the Solar System, The Infinite Monkey Cage and a dozen others.


But now, it appear scientists are wanting to get in on the action. Blogs are one of the front lines, the Guardian Science blogs being a prime example. Not to mention the sheer number of labs now running twitter feeds (CERN, Fermilab, ESRF, fuck dude the IoP subgroups are running individual feeds nowadays). Now we have groups of enthusiasts and scientists collaborating to make full blown documentaries. And in a somewhat strange recursive phenomenon, CERN have started showing documentaries made about CERN to the folks working at CERN.


But it gets better, because now the scientists know that they have an audience. And they might be trying to use it. Pervasive media ahoy. May it continue like continuing thing.

I'm good enough to what now?

So a couple of months ago I wrote something about how reputation is kind of the king of determining how good a scientist you are. This reputation malarky is founded on presentations, posters, conferences and that great oracle, journal articles. I'd always wondered what it's like to have your first article published. Would it be a warm and fuzzy feeling? Would one want to go and get trashed to celebrate this joyous ocassion? Would there be a great sigh of relief to know that you didn't cock up as much as you thought? Well, now I get to know. Well, waiting... waiting...

Ok the verdict was a warm fuzzy feeling initially. But now there's the other feeling. That feeling you get when you realise that someone might take what you've written and use it in another project. Now that's the scary feeling. Little Jimmy (or Big Jimmy) will look at this paper and go... "Ah hah! Exactly what I was looking for! Let's go from here." and then will start work. And then... it might go to shit. Or it might go awesomely, and then I'll get cited or some shit like that. Now there's an awesome thought, someone saying "Citation needed!" Then some dude picks up a copy of that paper and says, "Ok." Fuck yeah!

Ok, calm now. Ok, somewhat less bizarre I also find it quite comical that despite currently working in accelerator physics that my first publication is in materials science/chemistry. For work I finished over a year ago now. If nothing else it tells you that yes, you really can change your field of research if you put you noggin to the grind stone. Alternatively, kangerooes have eaten my feet. Damn hopping swine.

Round and round in circles...

We go round and round again. You know what one of the best things about being an academic is? You get to travel semi-regularly to work with others. You know what the worst bit of being an academic with a compunction to go see friends for any excuse is? You travel a metric fuckton, mostly in short bursts. So in 2.5 weeks that's been 8 countries. Nine flights. One imprompetu overnight stay in a hotel. Too many delayed flights. A little too much crappy airplane food (although their sandwichs are pretty good nowadays). Jumping from 30C in Cyprus to 17C in Geneva. And guess what, I'd do it all over again given the opportunity. Well, given 3 weeks I kind of will. Who needs a body clock anyway?

Countries by the Numbers - Denmark

This is unashamedly stolen from the good Tsuki-meister, with a healthy dose of exceptionally xenophobic humour dropped in for good measure (but don't worry, I'll spread the stereotypes to everyone equally). I wouldn't mind doing this for science labs too at some point, but I'll have to visit some more before I get around to that really.

Days spent: 10
Days overcast: 6
Days sunny: 3
Days resembling British summer: Enough
Meals that didn't contain meat: 0
Meals that contained vegetables: Half... maybe.
Highest point climbed: significantly under 9000*
Cynicism of local humour: Ten sacks of ROFLs in my waffles

Rating: Kent with a Cornish accent

*An almighty 168m high. Actually about 5m shorter than the real highest point in Denmark, but the 10m tall tower at the top kind of swings it.

What happens in Ebeltoft,

Stays in Ebeltoft (much like Cluses, but that's a different story). So here it is, the very end. The grande finale. The terminus. One week later on, I again find myself in Copenhagen airport, this time somewhat less apprehensive about the oncoming barrage of information, mostly since it will be from me rather than at me.

Approximately one hundred bright eyed and bushy tailed graduates descended upon quaint little Ebeltoft, for a gruelling one week (and it was one solid week, no weekends) intensive course during which the ideas and knowledge of some living giants (in more than one case literally) was forcefully hammered into our soft, squishy brains in the less than vain attempt to educate us on the finer points of the gruelling subject of radio frequency physics and engineering for particle accelerators. Hordes of eager learners (curiously as many old as young. I was probably the second or third youngest attendee at 23) gobbled up information, food, wine and the stunning nightlife (one billiards table and a barman with a curiously cynical sense of humour) on offer, and digested it in a somewhat suggestive manner. Yes ladies and gentlemen, this is the wonderful world of graduate summer schools (because they're always in the summer).

Picture the scene, you are taken to some semi-idyllic setting in the farthest flung reaches of Europe (Denmark), and subsequently crammed into a room along with the other students for 7 hours of lectures per day. For six whole days (the seventh being an excursion to... a science lab! And a fight involving vikings and the tallest hill in Denmark (all 162m of it!), but more on that later). That's 42 hours of lectures. In a week. I didn't have that many hours of lectures per semester for most of my courses at undergraduate! But I'll be damned if after it all I wasn't clammering for more like some time-addled crack addict. The constant battering/reinforcement of one overarching subject has this wonderful effect of making you think about it... constantly. You just want more of the little bastard, even if its 3am and you're taking the scenic route home and suddenly the masts of the ships in the harbour are reminding you of coaxial power couplers (it was quite a lot of beer ok?).

For a bit of the scale I figure I'll list the erm... exciting selection here:

• Revision of Electromagnetism (3hrs)


• S-Parameters (1hr)


• Smith Charts (1hr)


• RF Power Transportation (2hrs)


• Power Coupling (1hr)


• Beam-Cavity Interactions (2hrs)


• RF Power Generation (2hrs)


• Design and Technology of High Power Couplers (1hr)


• Basics of RF Electronics (2hrs)


• Cavity Basics (1hr)


• Cavity Types (1hr)


• Ferrite Cavities (1hr)


• Low-Beta Cavities (1hr)


• Low Level RF (3hrs)

Note: Up to here is considered the basics...

• Superconducting Cavities (2hrs)


• Numerical Methods (2hrs)
• 
  
• Transverse Deflecting Cavities (Crab Cavities) (2hrs)


• RF Beam Diagnostics (2hrs)


• RF Measurements (2hrs)


• Higher Order Mode Mitigation (2hrs)


• RF Gymnastics (2hrs)


• Cavity Manufacturing Techniques (2hrs)


• Exercises (Everything about Smith Charts, S-parameters and designing a pi-mode cavity) (8hrs)


• Seminars (On the European Spallation Source and MAX-IV) (2hrs)

Now you see, that's how to fill your brains with one subject really fast. Not just fill, cram full of. Epic brainess this most certainly was.

But of course, this being a graduate school there are more than just lectures here. There are people. Many people. One hundred and one people to be precise. And all of them are going to be doing different things. Most of them exceptionally interesting things. Like Nirav, friendly fellow from India currently working at Royal Holloway on Beam Position Monitors for CLIC. Very interesting discussions on low level RF. He's also previously worked in nuclear fusion. Or Shubab, from GSI in Germany. This friendly fellow works on using higher order modes (HOMs) in cavities to track ions in an ion accelerator planned at the FAIR complex. Not just that, they can apparently pick out what the charge of the ion is, how many there are, and the species of isotope. Pretty bad arse no? Or we have Julian (or Jules) of Rutherford Appleton Labs in the UK who is a recent comer to our field. He is currently working on RF power distribution systems after quite a extensive career in radio broadcasting, mostly the construction of antennas in many parts of the world.

This leads to many long discussions on random and sometimes quite hilarious topics, but is also a great way to be forcefully extracted from your own little corner of the research world to see what others are doing, and how you can learn more from others. Life is always easier when you know someone who once built a BPM so you know why replacing its pick up with plastic just won't cut it.

So ladies and gentlemen, there is your rough and ready guide to graduate schools. If you get the chance to attend one, I whole heartedly recommend it. Just be enthusiastic otherwise its going to flatten you like a steam train. But if you weren't enthusiastic, you wouldn't be in this business to begin with.

When you stay or when you go...

...Father Christmas will still find you to say ho-ho-ho. Given my current situation, I thought it the ideal time to speak about transcience again. So as I sit in Copenhagen airport, waiting 3 hours for my connecting flight to Aarhus to take me onto Ebeltoft, I can't help but wonder how does one get into and cope with random situations such as these. One of the constant things that seems to come up as a scientist as just how much you have to travel. Two postdocs in my department at Manchester are foreign nationals. Not nearby mind you, one is Romanian and the other a Kiwi. Three of the other postgrads are from Southern Asia (India and Thailand to be precise). This isn't just moving country however. Conferences, those dreaded, delicious hellbeasts of information that crop up once or twice a year, are frequently held in beautiful locales. In the arse end of nowhere. Which is great unless you're actually trying to get there. And given few attendees outside of the students care about the surroundings its largely irrelevant.

By way of example, I'm currently on my way to a graduate school in Ebeltoft, Denamrk. On RF for Accelerators. Otherwise known as "The Source of a Thousand PAINS!" As google maps so helpfully tells me its also located in the arse end of nowhere. With a car, not a problem with Europe's sickeningly efficient road system. As a lowly grad student that hasn't gotten around the getting one yet... not so much. Throw in a need to actually socialise with old friends and you end up vaguely with this.

In this past week I've travelled from the booney wilds of Saint Genis, France, to Geneva Airport, Switzerland. So far so good, only about 5 miles. Now fly to Manchester. Ok, about an extra 800miles. Not so bad. Now drive to Bournemouth with van to move out of flat. Ok, an extra 250 miles, still not too excessive. Now train to London, followed by a flight to Copenhagen, then to Aarhus, followed by a bus ride to Ebeltoft. Not bad for 5 days. I'd mention the following flight to Cyprus and back to Geneva but that might just be taking the piss. But I hope gets across the general mayhem of travelling in science. And it seems to get worse as you progress through your career.

My supervisor, crazy bastard he is has so far been to CERN, Kyoto and I think DESY already this year. He'll be doing something at Ebeltoft too for a couple of days and will be going to SLAC in California in September too. I think technically that qualifies him for some kind of Kyoto protocol all by himself but I digress.

It raises a couple of weird phenomena amongst particle physicists which are quite funny when you think about it. For instance, people from the US visiting CERN to do shift work/local work. I know a number that just stick to American time, and work 7pm-3am to save themselves jet lag and breaking family contact for too long. It wouldn't work for a long placement, but for a two week visit it can be surprisingly effective. Or organising to go abroad at 2 days notice. Admittedly this tends to be more students than academics, mostly because the academics organise it and subsequently forget to tell the students. But this being science we do it anyway because its fucking hilarious. The problem being that when you land you sometimes find yourself in the correct time-zone to start work straight away! Not so fun after a 3 hour flight however. But luckily everyone's in the same boat so you can get a lot of slack cut for you. But even then the constant movement can quite effectively fuck up your body clock for a couple of days. Of course this not just being physical, but mentally you can get a bit screwed up. After being in Southampton for 3 days I've only just properly gotten it into my head that yes, I am in Southampton, not Geneva. And subsequently I'll probably have the same happen when I go to Denmark and then onto Cyprus. Sometimes it just comes one big blur of events which you just attach to auto-pilot and mull through with all the grace and glory of a elephant through an ants nest. Fortunately I have an awesomely understanding and similarly insane group of friends so imprompetu jokes about incest and stealing noses are generally taken well.

On a slightly more peculiar topic, one of the more curious topics that comes up amongst my fellows is what kind of effect our work has on the world around us. Not the outcome of our work (that would be an encyclopedia by itself), but rather the things we have cause as a by product. Look at all those flights I'm taking. That's probably my entire years allotment of greenhouse gas emissions in one week. I can eat as little meat and local produce as I want (by the way, I recommend the concept of weekday vegetarianism, its surprisingly easy and beans are awesome), but those planes will shit all over the global warming side of it (but hell, I'm helping to prevent soil and ground water wastage as well so I'm still in the net benefits I think). But on the other hand I also do a hell of a lot to spread humanities knowledge (in a roundabout way). Of course this would all by a hell of lot easier if Europe put together an expansive high speed rail network, but that's a work in progress in all likelihood.

So, as I jump on the plane to Aarhus, here's hoping I get to spend a bit longer somewhere soon. It'd be nice to feel a bit at home somewhere again. But maybe I've got decades to do that. Here's to living out of a backpack me hearties! For the long or short of it.

You open a box

And inside are more fucking boxes! Imagine this, recursively you open a box and find more boxes. But each box is interesting, so of course you can find more interesting things inside the box. And more so, until you find an infinite number of boxes in an infinitely large box. A box so large that it would eat the universe in its great gaping maw. Omnomnomnom.

Right some one mild distraction aside, here's to a little insight into why I's does science. I've done the how, so why not the will. This will of course be narrated by a very silly story and possibly will involve Godzilla at some point.

So, picture you're walking along a footpath in the boonies one day when you come across a most curious of objects. Its a small rock like object, shaped in a peculiar manner that is rather out of whack with the surrounding objects. Pondering what it is, you decide to pick it up and investigate the matter further. Some days later, after you've battled your way through a flock of flying bears (a much maligned species), you find that this strange rock resembles the bones commonly found in lizards. Amazed you wonder how this bone got to where it was. Some epic data trawling later and you've found that lizards do not exist in the area any more. However, once in the great gasps of time there were lizards there. This opens two questions; how did the lizard bone survive all this time, and what kind of lizard did it belong to. This is already chemistry, geology and biology in one step. And them of course, being odd people we decide that the first is the most interesting question.

So of course, you read up on fossilisation, taking in the great depths of mineral deposition, geological strata and probably a good bit of physical geography to learn about land movement and what not. But in this great melange, you also find out that there are other examples of this kind of bone lying around. So you obsessively collect them over the next few weeks, becoming some sort of finger kleptomaniac, probably driving some of you friends/acquaintances mad with bemusement. Religiously examining these little things you find out that there are different compositions of elements in them. Carbon, various minerals... exciting stuff! But them it strikes you, should not they have the same elements in them, being the same thing? So why does this little bony thing have slightly more C-14 than this other one? Then you think, and whilst enjoying some liquid sustenance, enough to create a supersaturated area of booze haze, you notice little tracks. From you tiny bone things. By god... particles from the lizards bones! But wait, this means stuff comes from it! So maybe the particles there can change! Egads... that would explain the different compositions!

Excited by this you get a bit overexcited and count the number of trails. But them you notice that different rocks have different quantities of trails. Oh no! More questions! But looking at your great list of components of each rock you notice that those with more of some material (C-14 for arguments sake) give out more trails. So maybe they're related. So you note this, and after 10 years of laboriously cataloguing this information, you notice that the rates have decreased, in some vaguely logarithmic fashion. Astounded you wonder if you could relate the time to the rate of decay. And what do you know, you can! And so you find you can figure out the age of these little rocks. But then there is something else... something wonderful. During this time, some crazy man in Germany has written to you about your particles from other particles theory of emission. Just as obsessed as you (but in the wrong subject, silly man), he's looked at particles with his ridiculously huge microscope and seen things being emitted. Even better, he's seen that these particles do funny things to living tissue in high enough doses.

So seeing this and being interested, you put you favourite parrot in a path of these beams. Three subsequent destructions of Tokyo later you've realised that some times curiousity has unintended consequences. But hell, it was going to happen sooner or later so you may as well have been the first. But at least now the world fears you from your mountain-top lair!

So, this excessively silly recount of the scientific thought process over, the basic idea is... ask questions. If you're ever unsure, curious, obnoxious or just want to be an annoying bastard, ask a bloody question. If you can't get an answer from someone else, then look for one. Blow up small islands, dig through ditches, shoot particles into trees, get information to convince yourself and others that you have an answer! If you do get an answer from someone else, ask them whether they're sure its right. Why? How? Got evidence? Can it be done better? Do you fornicating with gorillas? Well maybe not that one, but you get the gist.

So... go ask you gribbly monkey!

P.S. Just to note, anyone that subsequently uses the response "You can't prove me wrong!" to any question can, and should be punched repeatedly in the balls/ovaries until they cry. As should anyone that tries to use logic as an argument against evidence. What the universe shows is generally the actual truth. That it doesn't comply to your seemingly elegant logic/description is your own damn fault. Stop whining and come up with a better one you lazy twunt.

The pitter patter of tiny feet

And overwhelmed PC fans. That mechanical grinding noise pitches itself into your brain, slowly but surely mining away at your will to continue. You lurk around a corner... blackness. Nothing but the incessant grind, grind, grind of plastic on plastic. Sputter sputter, crunk... kaboom. That's vaguely the sound a computer makes when one tries to run a memory intensive EM simulation on it. Or more correctly when I run one. That's right, trying to simulate a particle beam (represented by the awesomeness of a wire carrying an electrical pulse. Oh yeah!) running through a small aperture in a ferrite magnet is capable of bringing 8GB of RAM-my goodness to its knees.

And thus rears the ugly head of doing science computationally. Sometime, somewhere you will want to simulate something. Nay, need to simulate something big. And as big and as fast as your machine might be, you'll run out of RAM. For those lucky enough to be able to push data to the Grid this isn't normally an issue. But for us poor plebs that can't use parralelised code the RAM hungry monster rears its head with astounding frequency. Take my present machine for instance. Core 2 Duo. 8GB RAM... by any sensible standards this should own anything that's thrown at it. But this is CERN. We do not do sensible. So... give said beasty 7 million mesh cells and tell it to carry out a FEM EM algorithm. And then watch it cry. Current usage... 2.5GB of RAM. And this is with a simple conductor. Lob in some lossy materials and watch it implode.

The solution? You get a supercomputer or big arse cluster. I live for the day.

One day when the world sleeps...

The clicker-clacker of keyboards shall reverberate in these hallowed halls of learning.

So, picture this, it's Saturday night. It's fairly warm outside. The world is abuzz with news and new things for us all to explore. One could cross from country to country seeing new things. And what am I doing at 12.30 on Sunday morning? Writing a progress report for my home institute (I've started taking up the European habit of calling them institutes, I feel it represents reality more closely). Such is the high flying life of physics graduate student. But given I barbecued half a cow last night I consider this a fair trade off.

But on a more serious note, the importance of writing and paperwork more than ever in sciences. Science is a funny old fellow. In nothing else does reputation matter so much as in science. You see, when you have no reputation, people don't know whether to think your crazy or actually saying something useful. Given how... erm... focused (yes that's the best word. Obsessive-compulsive doesn't have the same ring to it) a lot of research is, sometimes this s literally the only point of reference many people as to whether you're work is going to be interesting or not.

This leads us to the existence of that most strange of beasts, the academic conference! What a cesspit of sin and inequity these things are! Anywhere from 20 to several thousand people all grasp for your attention, with posters, presentations, talking, grabbing innocent passers by... its so... random. Admittedly I've only been to one (but that's soon to change...) but holy tit creepers. Sitting through 9 hours of presentations in one day... well fine that happens on occasion. Doing it for a week is pushing human endurance however (although the guy from Oxford that sounds like Brian Blessed is a riot. On a random note here's the one I went too, the second week I started my PhD). Which is occasionally a downright shame because of the presentations are exceptionally interesting (RF breakdown science for instance). This is of course padded out by the 60 pages in 20 minutes on brazing techniques.

But think about, in a week you have to get a scope of what possibly hundreds of other scientists in your area are working on. Not just this, but you have to show off to these people as well. Talk to them, tell them about your work (and get told about theirs. Quite a lot) and generally make yourself known in the world of *insert your subject here*. But then on the other hand you get to generally brag about how awesome you are. Technically you're showing off rigorous and respectable contributions to public knowledge, but I still maintain that there's still an air of just showing off whatever clever/impressive new thing you've done. Even if impressive is analysing data from a giant box of argon for 3 years to pick a statistically significant data sample to detect little particles. But such is the life of scientist.

But what happens when your name is tarnished? Well... in short, you're fucked. I don't mean a Peter Mandelson, "Blink and I'll be back!" screwed. I mean you'll have to change you career screwed. Like everything, you won't be remembered for the potentially good work you did, but for the epic fuck up you made. Be it for a sense of justice, the keeping the good name of science clean or just because people want to prove that you're wrong and their data is right, pain comes your way.

But seriously, its awesome!

When the beam sleeps, the scientists shall awake

Or otherwise known as, getting out of the corrugated steel jungle and into something vaguely resembling the real world.

Now as you might have guessed, CERN is a big place. A ridiculously big place. It is however a ridiculously big place filled with physicists. For those that know physicists they have a predisposition to, lets obsessive working. I don't just mean working diligently every day, I mean the fairly frequent post 9pm hack-a-thon of which the stuff of legends is made from. Which is awesome. Some of the time. This of course breeds a somewhat subdued restlessness amongst the populace. Some get over this by "working" more (I use the term working loosely here), others by drinking quite incredible quantities of booze (seriously, there's some epic drinkers amongst the physicist community. Quite scary at times), and some of us by burning off our energy is silly and somewhat random ways.

Like the high class sport of Jugger, ably created by that bastion of weird past times, the Germans. Its strange, it involves hitting one another with sticks, it involves time and a half counting, it involves a dog head for a ball (substituted with tape film due to lack of dead poodles). Well, see for yourself.

Not just this of course, there's a variety of random things that happen. Like a random mini-LARP festival in the middle of the French countryside. Complete with Trollball. Or maybe even searching through the tunnels of CERN. Or cycling from Geneva to Annecy, and back again.

Why yes, Geneva/France has something random for all of the family. Even more bizarrely, my little town of about 8,000 has 2 theatres. TWO! And three bakeries. All of which serve disgustingly good cakes and bread. I think you can see where this one is going. The next to the next best thing about here, FOOD.

ZOMG the food. Now realise this is France, you could eat at a different café/restaurant/bistro every day of the week for a month and still have some left to spare if you wanted to. But that's not half of the fun. The fun is realising that there are almost as many super-markets and random butchers lying around. All of which sell large varieties of food. And due to the huge Lebanese, Algerian and Slavic populations here, a good international selection too. So one should take advantage of this, naturally. So I tried making hummus It tasted of chick peas and garlic, a roaring success! Next on the list is fallafal, totally not just because I have left over chickpeas from the hummus. And spicy bean burritos. LIKE THIS. MANLY MANLY BURRITOS! I'll let you know how that turns out later.

And last and best of all. There is an abundance of pain. Not just normal pain, but martial pain, and food pain, and KORGOTH PAIN!

Why you don't let scientists write music...

Sung to the tune of Rasputin by one Boney M. Or if you're slightly more amp inclined, growled to the tune of Rasputin by Turisas

There lived a learned man in the lab long ago
He was smart and mad, in his brain a flame did grow
Most people looked at him with terror and with fear
But to data hungry gits he was such a cause of cheer
He could steer the beams like a sniper
Aline them finely with a wire
But he also was the kind of creature
Insanity would desire

RA RA RASPUTIN
Lover of the proton beam
There was a man that really was gone
RA RA RASPUTIN
Pilot of the big machine
It was a shame how he carried on

He ruled a certain lab and never mind the bar
But the collision he caused, really wunderbar
In all affairs of beam he was the man to please
But he was real great when he had a bunch to squeeze
For the DG he was no wheeler dealer
Though he'd heard the things he'd done
He believed he was a holy healer
Who could do no wrong

(Spoken:)
But when his drinking and lusting and his hunger
for power became known to more and more people,
the demands to do something about this outrageous
man became louder and louder.

"This man's just got to go!" declared his enemies
But the machines begged "Don't you try to do it, please"
No doubt this Rasputin had lots of hidden trickss
Though he was a brute they just fell into his arms
Then one night some men of higher standing
Set a trap, they're not to blame
"Come to visit us" they kept demanding
And he really came

RA RA RASPUTIN
Steerer of the particle beam
They put some quench into his line
RA RA RASPUTIN
Pilot of the big machine
He turned it on and he said "Its just fine"

RA RA RASPUTIN
Steerer of the particle beam
They didn't quit, they wanted 7TeV
RA RA RASPUTIN
Pilot of the big machine
And so they quenched it, the plebs

On doing the science...

"Stand back, I'm going to do SCIENCE!" Those immortal words, uttered for the first time (I think) by the Randall Munroe of XKCD fame, admittedly on a t-shirt, but beggars can't be choosers eh? Now it always conjures up stirring images of men in white coats stood infront a big button, with SCIENCE written on it. A bit like this one, but less foreboding. Or of folk with lasers, shining it and being in awe. Or of staring at the experiment and saying, "By Scott! We've got it!" Now let me introduce to you the real world of science.

Step one; as a scientist, let me introduce you to your new best friend and eternal compatriot (or if you're really lucky/unlucky (delete as appropriate to your tastes) one of these). If you're extra special (like me!) you'll be spending a lot of time getting intricately familiar with both of them. And not in a sexy way. You will do just about everything on this machine. Writing, calculating, analysing, simulating, programming, building, hitting, ranting, plotting the downfall of your lab, conniving, writing a short novel (known as a theses in some circles), and probably, ultimately sharpening into a crude tool with which to return to a simpler life. Ok, the last one not so much, but it always helps to be prepared. It is literally your life blood, and you'd bloody well best take care of it.

Step two; 90% of your time WILL be spent doing data analysis. Be it writing code to analyse the data, looking at data, copying data, plotting data, backing up the data, more copying the data, plotting the data in a slightly different way, fitting functions to data, being a tomato with the data, making hot sweet love to the data, burning the data for disagreeing with theory. Its a simple fact of scientific life, data is quick to produce, slow to analyse. Today is the day of First Collisions at 7TeV (more on that later). the data just produced today will probably take about a week to analyse. No multiply that by 20 years of running. That's a lot of data. Hell, the LHC's yearly output is somewhere in the region of several petabytes. And that's just the useful data. It throws away over 99% of the data on the grounds that we know about it already! And even better, as a PhD student (like me), you'll be given most of it, because, well, your supervisor probably doesn't want to do it either, and he's been here longer than you.

Step three; Be prepared to bang your head against the wall. A lot. Science is not easy, nor simple. If it was, every bugger in the world would be discovering something new every day. Its why there are specifically scientists out here doing it. Just like there's doctors, electiricians, engineers etc. The major difference being that for the most part they know every step of their job, as they've done it several thousand times before. By its nature, what you're doing in science most likely has never been done before. Its hard, its annoying, you will probably lie awake at night thinking about it. But...

Step four; Everything is related. I mean everything. Science, being a wonderful little thing, is described quite annoyingly well by mathematics. So, being good at maths helps. Fortunately, mathematicians write lots of paper on mathematical gymnastics, which work for science! So do other scientists. And they cross-breed, and produce useful things. Like Green's functions. I love these beauties. I first studied them whilst doing a course on gravitational waves and general relativity. I'm now using them to study electromagnetic waves in particle accelerators. How awesome is that?! Some lovely man (that long ago in inevitably was. More women scientists, now!) came up with a new way of solving mathematical equations, and suddenly millions of people's lives were made indescribably easier. If he was still alive, I'd buy him a pint. Likewise, I use circuit theory to describe my big old accelerating cavities. I could either solve Maxwell's equations by brute force or... I could use a circuit model of LCR circuits and out pops some normal modes. I think I just had a braingasm!

Step five; And finally, the best bit. The experiments. But... they aren't that simple. You must design it. Test it. Make sure it won't blow up. Check you can afford it. Try and find whether the equipment exists yet (you'd be surprised how frequently this one occurs). And then... design something that uses it, and hope to hell you didn't get it wrong. And it will go wrong. Maybe in a small way (spectrometer wavelength register is a couple of nm out of tune), maybe a big way (A big big way), but something will probably go wrong. And you'll adapt to it. Solve it. Because its what you're there for. And because you're awesome, of course. You really do have to try this for yourself to understand just how awesome doing experiments is (this includes building circuits at home and what not kiddies)

Step six; You do it all over again. Because it you can't do it twice, you're doing it wrong. Everything can be done again, if its actually real ;).

Step seven; You talk about it. Because everything you do is worth talking about (at least you think it is, possibly more on this later) everyone has to hear about it. Conferences, papers, meetings, casual discussions in the pub. You'll brag, bleet and generally be huffing proud of yourself for doing some bloody science! And rightly too. But seriously, I spend about 10 hours a week in meetings. You really do talk quite a lot. Often about boobs and beer. And science. And all three (dirty, I know).

So there you go, a quick and dirty guide to doing science, minus all the horrendous maths and code that normally goes in between

On the nature of transience

Firstly... welcome to the third attempt at making this blog actually something I update frequently! After failing epicly last time, I thought I'd stop making fuck tons of potential topics and then forgetting them, and basically just stick to once a week, because that's at least compatible with my laziness.

Right, for the introduction. I'm one Hugo Day. A PhD student nominally associated with the University of Manchester/Cockcroft Institute in the UK, but in reality working at CERN on the Franco-Swiss border. I started as a student in October 2009, Coming to CERN for about 3 weeks in November 2009, and am working here full time as of 8th February 2010. I work on the area of accelerator physics, the specifics of which I will probably go into at some point in the future. This is about the only important stuff there is to know. Well that and I only really speak English with a decent level of proficiency. This will probably be the source of many lulz/fails in the future.

This is my place to... well write whatever the hell I like really. We'll see what happens otherwise. If you want some of the actions of my past times at CERN, read below. More might appear with time. Angry monkeys!

So, what to lead on this little rebirth? I thought of doing the science, but I need some photos for that first. Then I thought of Geneva, but I'll come to that later. Then I thought of one of the more unknown parts of being here... the transient population. People coming and people fro-ing all the time.

CERN is a funny place. There are always people coming and going. Literally, it operates 24 hours a day, across 2 countries, operating some 40km of particle accelerator and probably over 100,000 tons of experimental equipment. As you'd expect, this produces quite a lot of need of people power. The thing is, a lot of this people power doesn't live and work at CERN normally. If you want a rough guess, maybe 10,000 people work at/with CERN. That's a lot of scientists. And engineers. And technicians. And admin staff. And librarians. And cafeteria staff. This is a BIG place. But, of those 10,000, I'd guess 4,000 are here on long term attachment (i.e. here for more than 3 months at a time). That's a full 60% of the working staff here that are in some kind of weird limbo between being here and not. Constantly.

That's 6,000 people. That's more than the population of most of the nearby towns! Just coming and going often on a weekly basis. As you can imagine, you meet a lot of people that are here for just a week or so. Take the last month for instance. Several weeks ago we had ATLAS week, where a large portion of the ATLAS collaboration (somewhere around 5-600 people I'd guess) came to CERN for a week. Then went home again. Last week was LHCb week, where again several hundred people came to CERN for only a week. As bizarre as it may sound, I ate dinner with about 3 different groups of people that week, quite aware that I wouldn't see many of them again for about 4 months, and never having met them before.

This seems to have two different effects on interactions here. Firstly, you become a hell of a lot more open about, well, everything. People are here for a week, so things happen with a reckless abandon. Want to travel into Geneva an hour from home for a meal? Done! Go climbing in the mountains on a days notice? Done and double done. Everything is more hectic, more lively, more impulsive. And the shorter the time you spend here, the more it seems to make you willing to try anything that's thrown your way.

In another way it also makes you quite closed off. Nationalities tend to clump together, sections meet each other for drinks. That small island of identity, be it through language, culture, work, make it very easy for groups to come together for short bursts and then disperse as its members again fly off over the world to wherever. This means that generally its very easy to find lots of people somewhat similar to you, but can be a right bastard to meet people outside of what might be your normal social circle. This of course being solved often by just sitting next to people and starting to talk to then.

Similarly to this, there is a very strange sense of superficialness to the whole proceedings. You can be sat next to someone for 2 hours, talking about their bitter worries and highest hopes. And then the next day you meet for coffee and have nothing better than a nod and a curt glance to give for your troubles. You are friendly to everyone because it you aren't... well you could be stuck, isolated in a place if thousands. And through what seems to be some ingrained isolation at CERN (seriously, ask how many people at CERN associated with people that don't work there. You'll find very few), if you can't socialise with the CERNois... your social life is deader faster than a fish on land.

That said, its still interesting. Most of the people here have been in the business for at least 10 years. Have lived in a couple of countries. And bizarrely above all, probably know every other bugger in their area of research. Work in vacuum systems? I bet your boss knows Bob from Fermilab that built the Tevatron's vacuum pump. Wakefields? Everyone knows Alexej Grudiev or Mr. Spataro. Its lively, vibrant and a bit mad. And damn its fun.

Which country are you from?

Its time to go and be horribly stereotypical! In the best of British xenophobic traditions I give you my own insight into the common traits of the worlds nationalities. Starting from the most northerly.

Russians - Ah, what a wonderful folk. Surprisingly, not amongst the biggest booze drinkers but really, really like a good party. Despite seemingly never being in the bloody office, manage to do their work with seemingly little effort. Likely suspected to not sleep at all and programme using reliable text to speech engines. Strange abundance of skinheads.

Norwegians - Ah the Norwegians, the teddy bears of the world. Seriously, these guys are amongst the friendliest, laughiest, generally happiest folks in the world. Imagine the West Country, but easier to understand and not smelling of farm. You almost want to take one home with you to keep in a cupboard as an instant pick-me-up.

Finns - Oh the Finns... the Finns. I have to sub-divide the Finns really into the stereotypical and the other. The stereotypical were... shy? Quiet? Reclusive. I'm told there were 7/8 Finns at CERN in the summer student programme. I met 2. One due to being one of only 30 other students there at the time, the other because of a damn near total cross over of interests (250 people and only three like poi? Fucking criminal I tell you). The former was quiet, like mouse quiet. And loved coffee. By the gallon. The later liked to talk, for hours. See, strange contradictions. I blame an insufficient sample size. More Finns needed for sampling, report to the station for summary examination. On the otherside, when observed the others drunk obscene quantities of vodka. Like water. May have explained the lack of contact. And the fire alarms.

Swedish - Riding the British anologies, travel north from Cornwall off into Wales. Those quiet but friendly guys that sit around in groups chatting, but looking a bit lost and confused when outside familiar surroundings. That said they have 3 modes. Working, sleeping and hiking, with most seemingly spent in the later mode.

Lithuanians - Mental, that is all.

Polish - An interesting group of folks the Poles. I'm starting to realise why they get jobs everywhere else in the EU. I don't think they sleep. Take one fine fellow named Piotr. Seem at 7am having breakfast. Being his usual bubbly self he was eating bread and jam (as everyone seems to. Buggers need a good bacon sarney. Atleast they would if you could buy bacon). 30 minutes later he was at work. At lunch he was having a good traditional wine and frogs legs (seriously hardcore was this man). Next seen at about 10pm, having dinner. "Where've ye been?" I inquired. "At work." was the response. Damn man, do you have no fun? 2 hours of discussion and much listening to Dimmu Borgir later and that was corrected and explained magnificantly. Likewise, the guy liked running up and down mountains. Frequently. Also had a good taste for fine wine and good vodka. And good soup.

Quebequois - Seperate from the rest of those freaky Canadians. Ok, this is going off of a sample size of one but it was a cool sample. Introduced to the funny world of the francophonie, with weird punk and a somewhat excessive quantity of pasta and fish consumption. And best sense of humour so far - "There's something inherently camp about the French. Even they're manly men just sound... gay."

Americans - Loud... very loud. Also like to express their opinions on anything and everything, great for a laugh, but possibly don't realise that sometimes they are the fun, not part of it. Ok, maybe that's a bit harsh, but ultimately felt very accurate. Something about them seems to shift from confidence in speaking to a conviction that every bugger in the world needs to hear about how awesome they are, which annoys my British-ness. And they haven't learnt why tea is better than coffee.

Germans - Ah, the Krauts, Huns, Germans whatever else you want to call them. Now I reckon if anyone's misunderstood its the Germans. The UK has this image of them being steely emotionless automatons, working away to outproduce the rest of world to oblivion with well made cars and other bits of machinery. Most experiences have pointed to this being mostly bollocks. For a start, all attempts at passing strong magnets near them produced no strange behaviour at all, not even near working electromagnets. Now they might occasionally move in a somewhat static, disjointed manner akin to something in need of oiling, but other than that they're quite nice folk, friendly, chatty (although the speaking in binary gets a bit much after a while) and with a fine knowledge of card games (although not much to match blunt gaming skill). I dare say the underestimated titan of the international world.

Chinese - These folk like partying, drinking and ever so often working. Ok, interactions may have been restricted to talking at parties, but that's as good a sample as any.

Ukrainians - See Russia but with a lot more vodka.

Dutch - They didn't get called the 'Social Backbone of Summer' for no reason. I don't think there was a single one of these guys that wasn't drinking beer by 7pm every night of the summer, apart from Organ lover. But he drank whilst playing the organ, so it still counts. The sheer quantity of beer consumed was immense, as were the practical jokes played after the consumption of said beverage. If I still had a copy of the photo of the table pyramid, I'd still be laughing.

Belgians - They're... Belgian I think is the best description.

French - Oh the French. They're an interesting mix is they. I think possible because CERN has French as one of their two official working languages but because 90% of the people speak English this causes a bit of a friction between populations. And by that I mean they rarely talk to anyone who doesn't speak good French. Ergo, zero sample size. Therefore determined mostly as likeable but odd.

Slovaks - Oh god the vodka. Oh god the beer.

Austrians - These would be my vote for teddy bear of the international community. To a manimal they were lovely folk, with an excellent taste in greasy deserts (fried potato pastries, not a dish to be missed). Even better than that they share a strikingly similar sense of humour to British people and likewise consume tea by the gallon.

Japanese - Like dancing (classical dancing, not crazy body wobble known from the dancefloors), and throwing people. Also somewhat creepily fast to latch onto anyone resembling a teacher of somekind. But always up for crazy adventure which is a plus.

Hungarians - To give a short summary - Mountaintop, vodka/whiskey and camp fires. In Winter.

Italians - Fun loving crew. Well more specifically, love their brand of fun and balls be it if your way is different. This is great when you match phases and then party for literally hours and hours on end. And then die, but still party. Not so much fun when they do a lot of whining about how you party but offer no better idea. That said, they know their shit about just about anything they do (fun fact, Italy has the second biggest group of people as CERN after the US), from cooking to techno/electro (and damn do they like electro). But this can be forgiven as they tend to hate Berlusconni as much as any right thinking person does.

Serbians - These are a very interesting group. Ok, so I only met one, but it was quite an eye opener as to what growing up in a war zone does to you. Speak to one if you get the chance.

Spanish - See the Italians, but more on the fun side and less of the whiney. Also strangely like folk music a lot.

Portugese - See Spanish but drink more wine than should be humanly possible. Best summed by a short three line skit:
"Can I have wine?"
"Here you go." Hands bottle of wine.
Lady walks away whilst turning bottle upside down and letting it run out without noticing. Drunks are funny.

Greeks - Industrious little beavers that party hearty. I think possibly the southern European equivalent of the Polish.

South Koreans - Possibly more computer obsessed than healthy. All the same, good party animals.

Ok so most socialising was done over either dinner or with a bit too much booze involved, but that makes this all totally accurate!

Let me show you my lab...

Time for a sneek peak at the dark bowels of CERN here. Situated in the darkest depths of building 9, Meyrin site lie two dark and dusky rooms. Filled with cruel machinations and horrible lairs. They are, my office and the AB-ABP-HSL lab! Oh yeah, even the acronym leaves you... confused?

A momentary aside here. CERN loves acronyms. You name it, they've got it. Want to see the LHC? Well you can follow the beam from the H- IS, down LINAC2, up to the PSB, with splits to the PS and LEIR, PS leading to the SPS, which flings shit off to HI-ISOLDE, Gran Sasso, LEAR and the LHC. Around the LHC you have ALICE, ATLAS, CMS, LHCb, LHCf and TOTEM. That not enough? You have you AB, ITC, HR and others. Within the AB you have ABP, PO, RF, ATB. CC3, HSL, BBQ. Enough acronyms to kill a buffalo, or just require a permenant glossary. All the funnier when you realise about 90% of the staff work in the AB group.

But anyway, office and lab. The office first. Now you'd imagine CERN, place of wonder and sparkly stuff, to be filled to the eye balls with shiney new equipment and futuristic layouts right? Well, for a part you'd be right. The areas which the general public might see are filled with space-age designs, extravagant chairs and quite few nice paintings. Likewise, the computer centre is very shiney (for anyone curious it houses the Tier 0 LHC grid), and sounds like a 747 due to all the cooling. The rest of us poor plebs are situated in the dark beating bowels of 60s' era offices and work desks. There's more muddy brown coloured desks in this place than the rest of the world combined.

To give you a quick overview, CERN is not a science lab. Its engineering works. The scientists rarely live here, the engineers that build the machines do. Its all practicality, big machines and loud tools here, with the occasional building given over to visiting scientists (fun fact, of CERN's ~ 3500 permanent staff, probably less than 200 are physicists per se, most build shit).

To this background, it adds its own oddities. For instance, the lab I was working in, normal dry lab, with racks, electrical meters, giant bog rolls, a palm tree (!). Don't believe me? Here *will* be a picture (blasted bluetooth connectivity).

Like I said, somewhat strange. Even better, when I did experiments I did it by propping this tiny thing on top of a toilet roll about 2 ft wide. Epic!

CERN, it is quite a silly place.

Watching the stars at night

"I've got a fantastic idea!" She said.
"What would that be?" we said.
"We should go watch the Perseids at their peak!"
"Sounds like an awesome idea, could get a picnic or something and sit in a field." We thought.
"Well, actually I was thinking of somewhere more exotic..."
"On a building? Different town? What?"
"Well the Jura are only half an hours bus ride away..."
"And 1700 metres straight up..."
"There wouldn't be any cloud or light pollution. And we could say we'd spent a night on a mountain."
"Where it's cold, dark and we might get eaten by hungry cows?"
"Yeah!"
"So... when's the peak?"

Slightly paraphrased this maybe, but that's essentially the planning that went into one of the most awesome things ever devised by mankind, or climbing a mountain for the night for short. Just to cut short any hopes of enthusiasm of fantastic pictures of this night, almost everyone going up the hill forgot their cameras, to a man. Yeah, we were well prepared that night. Apart from man with the awesome camera that took some photoes of the sunrise. But alas, the plan was simple; turn up at a bus stop at 6pm, get bus to base of mountain, climb like mothers to get to the top before it got dark, seal selfs in sleeping bags and blankets to avoid freezing to death. Stages 1 and 2 completed without a problem. Stage 3 took a mild amount of time and the correct use of lots of swearing. For the uninitiated, hiking up a mountain 101 the rushed version.

3.1) Put on sensible shoes for walking long distances. Sandels are not acceptable. Walking boots are good. Barefoot fine, although don't expect any feet left at the end.

3.2) Point self in direction of path.

3.3) Follow said path until you start going downhill.

At this point you are at the top of the mountain. This is all well and good, unless you don't follow 3.2. We were provided with the directions of "Follow this path by a farm until you get to the top." When we came across our first 3 pronged fork with all routes going to the top, secret pacts of murder and ritual sacrifice began to be made (to be fair, these instructions were given by a guy with hair longer than mine and that one night went swimming wearing a toga. I rest my case.), and we started aggressively exploring the natural surroundings, i.e. getting lost.

Several badly chosen routes and about an hour later, we found a car park (Yay!) and some other climbers (double yay!) and some signposts (triple yay and a swig of rum!) which all kindly pointed us in the right direction to get up the bloody mountain. Turns out you can drive 3/4 of the way up it. Hiking, now even for the permenantly lazy. But alas, the rest of the walk up was thoroughly uneventful with clearly signed paths everywhere. Then we found a nice area of greenary, with a convenient copse of trees to block our the wind and keep us sheltered. Perfect we say, perfect!

Until about 12.30pm. For the uninitiated, the higher up you get, the colder it gets. Quite substantially colder actually, especially at night. Back to that lack of preparation; so at an early hour we realise just quite how fucking freezing it gets! You'd think 4 layers would suffice, but the world is insistent on proving us very, very wrong. But the French, the somewhat surprisingly prepared folk they are plan for this kind of stuff. The walkers amongst you will know about the tradition of mountain huts around the world. By crook or by hook, we'd managed to bunker down about 200metres from one. What's that convenience, you've given us a silver platter? Why yes, we will take it with excessive abandon. With a small smattering of French from our resident francophones (from Quebec and Sweden nonetheless) we managed to get the guys left in there to let us crash in the sleeping area, and they even gave us some cheese and wine!

A brief aside about these awesome people. They were an office-full of people from Geneva up here having a party. On a Wednesday night. On a mountain. And as a one up, after having quaffed 2/3 bottles of wine between about 8 of them, they were going to climb back down the mountain. At 1am. And people call me crazy... But they gave us cheese (Roqueforte if I remember correctly) so we can't complain.

But back to the point, hut, roof, walls, stove, cups, water, kettle, tea bags(!). You could call it stereotypically British, but there's nothing quite like sitting at a mile up, with a clear sky, watching a meteor shower whilst drinking tea (Yorkshire blend if you're interested). And what a meteor shower, peak rate of 2 per minute, running from SW to NE right across the Jura. A small part of me might have gone to the warm fuzzy place permenantly along with the giant bunny rabbits. About an hour and a half later, a lack of body temperature forced a retreat in doors and quick attempt at sleep.

You'd think that'd be enough awesome for one day, but of no. As mentioned, the mountains sit NW from Lake Geneva. That'd mean that the sun rose right over lake Geneva. I'll simply say, its a sight to behold, especilly with Mount Blanc just visible in the distance.

For a nice end to the saga, we decided to see how fast we could get down the mountain. Apparently you could run. We tried it. A couple of barbed wire fences and a an angry cow later, we found that it could be done in 30 minutes. Given it took 3 hours to get up(!), I'd call it a step in the right direction. One bus ride later and I was back in the office, only 15 minutes late. Passing out on the desk at 3pm suggested discretion was the better part of valour, and to bed it was.

Proof positive that entertainment can be cheap, and cold.

Wandering the darkened tunnels

For those that don't know, CERN is huge. I don't mean building huge, but HUGE. Think large town huge. On a good day there are some 20,000 people there. Well, I say people, 20,000 physicists, so a close approximation. As with all large places with people, you have to have the essentials of modern life; electricity, water, heating and network connections. This means tunnels to connect them... many many tunnels. Let me reiterate just quite how many tunnels there are here; alongside the 27km of the LHC tunnel, there are the tunnels for the SPS, PS and PSB accelerators, connective tunnels to every goddamn building in the Meyrin site, and a couple of random ones to old building sites. There're miles of them, and best of all, you can walk through most of them.

Now, students being students everywhere in the world decided to have fun with this and hide something in the tunnels one year. And then decided to tell the sucessive years about it. Taking a wild guess, this caused masses of us young whipper snappers to rummage around dark, wet (torrential rain has to go somewhere. Did I mention these tunnels house part of the drainage system too?) and none to fine smelling places to try and find a bottle of beer. A couple of bashed heads later, we found something. A scrap of paper (barely) stuffed in a plastic wallet. With a riddle, as always. Scribed on it with vaguely the following:

"Down the darkened winding passage, Beneath the humming ring,

Under the electric guard, The Holy Grail lies."

"Yay!" we could all think, "Another trek through the dark." So of course off we went hunting for... something, somewhere. We went down a dark winding passage (although of them are dark and winding...), went beneath a humming ring (you don't know stupidity until you see a sign pointing to a particle accelerator, a "Danger Radiation!" sign and then start wondering if you have to go past it), and found something electric (electrical supplies to the SPS, underground and with a tiny key lock to guard it) and..... no bottle of beer! Yeah, good times guys, good times. We managed to dig our way out of the tunnel, finding a not so suitably contained ladder.

Obviously some bastard had stolen our beer! But we'll come back to that. Now you might notice something from this tale, no mention of security. That would be because there was none. That's right folks, you can walk right next to some of the biggest pieces of machinery on the planet without having to pass security apart from the front gate! This would be one of the awesome things about CERN. Once you get past the front door with an ID (proof that you're smart enough I suppose), you can get just about anywhere that isn't an office. Want to see an ion source and the attached LINAC? Sure, just through that door. Climb to the top of water cooling tower? Sure, just 20m of stairs to ascend. Quite an amount of trust to put in a group of 250 students that regularly got trolleyed. Their assumption that we wouldn't break anything was astounding, and look what it got them ;).

Back to the tunnels. They contained many things, including a wonderful variety of shortcuts. If you knew the right path it was possible to jump out of people that thought they'd just passed you. This extending to security guards too until they started voicing their displeasure. Best of all was that there were entrances everywhere. If you knew where to look. Small bunkers by the road? All contain an entrance. Those little drainage covers? Entrances. Flights of stairs going in a building below the ground floor? Entrances. Best of all was the entrance right next to the main entrance. Walk down it, then run like a bugger to another exit, and then walk back towards the entrance with everyone very confused.

But anyway, that wonderful bottle of beer? Did we find it? Yes! On my final night there, on one final venture through the rambling tunnels with a couple of chums we found the goddamn thing! Wet (filled with run off from a thunderstorm, lovely), with a glass and completely drunk. Kind of a downer for the end, but eh, can't win 'em all.

I'm back, and I have a plan

Kind of. Right, I meant to use this as a diary of my times at CERN, but that failed spectacularly. I then subsequently meant to use it to keep tabs on my Master's project, which again went down in abject failure. So, I'm going to make one more attempt at using this thing for... something.

So, if I get around to it I'll have stuff from the summer (a couple of dumb projects and a trip to Scandanavia), and a diary of my PhD. And in the mean time, some old stories of the things this was originally meant to be about. But first I need to remember the bleedin' stuff.

Bananarama folks, bananarama.

Why this hasn't seen anything recently

Simple, because doing things is so much more fun than talking about doing things. Sorry netterwebs, you lose once again. More news will follow when I get back to civilisation and talk to some of you ready buggers. Then the fun will continue. I bring tales of moresome awesome!