Personal Blogs

I have had a lovely weekend in the sunshine, much of which has been spent outside in our garden, under the beautiful cherry tree, on our new garden furniture. I've been pottering around, weeding the vegetables, planting more seeds, and watching the cats chase motes of dust.

In between, I've been studying hard - book 3, Energy and Light. I'm almost there; I've completed most of TMA03; all I needed to do was Activity 11.1 - Investigating Light.

Joe and I liberated a cardboard document box from his offices, and I planned my experiment. It is set out below, just as it is in my folder (with perhaps just one or two embellishments, and an extra instructive illustration). Some of the details have been changed and the first-person voice has been used because the write up was part of the assessment, and so cannot be made public for fear someone may plagiarise me. So some of this may or may not be true!

Investigating light: determining the wavelengths of spectral lines from an energy-saving light bulb.

Equipment

• Diffraction grating (300 lines per mm)
• Tungsten filament light bulb (40 W)
• Energy-saving light bulb (11 W)
• Lovely stripy table lamp (for the tungsten bulb)
• Tall standard lamp (for the energy-saving bulb)
• Large cardboard document box
• Pieces of Amazon book cardboard
• Gaffer tape
• Sharp knife
• Paper protractor
• Blu-Tack
• Black cotton thread
• Red drawing pin
• Dressmaker's pin
• Eye-patch
• Table
• Dressing gown

Aim

To determine the wavelengths of blue, green and red spectral lines from an energy-saving light bulb.

Method

Having liberated the box from Joe's work in a ninja-style midnight operation, I cut a thin slit in it using the sharp knife. Joe took this off me, and did it properly with a minimum of blood spilled. I tidied the edges using gaffer tape. Gaffer tape can do anything: FACT. The table lamp containing the tungsten bulb was placed within, and Amazon cardboard was cobbled around the edges, in an attempt to prevent too much light from escaping and having a party where my spectral lines were supposed to be.

I had a gander through the diffraction grating, and this is what I saw - a continuous spectrum:

Next, I needed to take a look at the spectrum produced by the energy-saving bulb. So I undid my gaffer-taped masterpiece, and fumbled the floor lamp with the energy-saving bulb under there. I couldn't quite manage to see the spectrum this time, so I created a dark-room, thus:

This created the ideal conditions to observe and photograph my diffraction spectrum - which was not continuous, and was in fact a line spectrum. Again, I photographed it:

All this was very pretty, but had to be interrupted by a trip to Charlie's to make me a longbow. You see, my marvellous husband (he of the fabulous presents) bought me A Big Piece of Wood for my birthday. Not just any piece of wood, mind; a piece of yew, laminated with maple and lemon wood. He, Charlie and I began the shaping of a (very) long bow. It's going to be grand!

Back to science.

Later, when darkness had fallen, I continued my experiment and set up my equipment. Leaving the box with the energy-saving bulb where it was, I stuck it down to prevent any disastrous movement, and placed a paper protractor about 50cm away. A drawing pin pierced the protractor, to provide an anchor point for the thread. The diffraction grating was placed upon the protractor at the axis. Thread was tied to the drawing pin and the dressmaker's pin, and all was ready. See:

This is where the eye-patch comes in. To measure the angle of diffraction for each spectral line, you have to line up the spectral line itself with the line on the grating and the thread upon the protractor. This is to be done with one eye, to prevent parallax error. I found myself unable to do this, and so had to use an eye patch.

Of course, it naturally followed that I had to conduct the rest of the experiment in the manner of a pirate. Grog was acquired, and duly consumed. Tables were swabbed, angles were swashed, and the thread was buckled. Much like my knees.

The experiment was a success! The wavelength of the blue, green and red spectral lines from the energy-saving light bulb were calculated as: 450 nm,  550 nm and 600 nm respectively. This isn't far off the actual wavelengths of light emitted by an energy-saving light bulb. Go and google it if you don't believe me.

This has been Science, by Vicky. I've enjoyed it; all that remains to be seen is how well my tutor likes the write-up... I do think that the eye patch was relevant. And the dressing gown.

I am a well-known hater of mathematics, largely because of my (perceived) lack of ability. So it came as some surprise to me that I am very much enjoying Book 3: Energy and Light of S104: Exploring Science.

Algebra is the topic in hand, and we’ve gone right back to basics.

I remember, as a small child, that in junior school I and several other bright (read geeky) kids were part of an algebra group. The headmaster had a little maths geek set going on, and I was IN. It wasn’t the best school in the world, and the town was... well... provincial. An ex-mining town, very working class, with fewer aspirations flying around than I or my parents would like.

However, I believe that this school (Stockingford Middle School) and this teacher (sadly I cannot remember his name) did me a great service: they stoked my interest in science, and planted in me a very deeply buried love of maths. Or at least, the beauty of maths.

I wasn’t to know, yet, that algebra could enable you to produce very cool images, such as the one on the right...

It stayed buried for a long, long time. Throughout senior school, I loathed maths - partly, I suspect, due to an uninspiring teacher who was convinced I’d fail my GCSE (I got a B) - and partly because I just convinced myself it was too difficult, and I couldn’t do it.

Enter the Open University, S104, Book 3. They really do start at the basics, and I remember more than I thought, so I’m powering through the work; spinning through the vast, echoing spaces in my mind with equations creating beautiful symmetry all around.

Or something similar...

There is something very calming and aesthetically pleasing about rearranging equations. I like balance, and order, and that is what an equation is. Balance. Yes, it’s simple; but I’m enjoying it. And what’s more, I’m looking forward to the more complex stuff...

Maths is everywhere. Nature, science, art, beauty... Poetry, according to Betrand Russell, who said this:

“Mathematics, rightly viewed, possesses not only truth, but supreme beauty - a beauty cold and austere, like that of sculpture, without appeal to any part of our weaker nature, without the gorgeous trappings of painting or music, yet sublimely pure, and capable of a stern perfection such as only the greatest art can show. The true spirit of delight, the exaltation, the sense of being more than Man, which is the touchstone of the highest excellence, is to be found in mathematics as surely as poetry.”

He’s right, too. I’m just beginning to understand why maths is so important, how it is a part of everything in the Universe, and appreciate its purity and its sublime beauty.

Last night, the second episode of Professor Brian Cox’s Wonders of the Universe was shown on BBC2. I am loving this series so far; and I really enjoyed its predecessor, Wonders of the Solar System.

Last night’s episode tied in perfectly with what I’m studying at the moment as part of S104 - Exploring Science. I’m looking at the composition of stars, how they work, how they are born, live and die. The show did a great job of illustrating and supplementing what I’ve been learning.

I am the type of person who finds it very difficult to grasp difficult ideas quickly. I can’t just read about a concept and understand it; I’m quite envious of those who can do that. So I look for all sorts of different ways to learn about a topic - and if there are pictures, diagrams and analogies, so much the better.

This series is not aimed at those who already know all there is to know about the universe; it’s aimed at people who don’t know much at all, or at those of us who devour everything they can about the subject, whether it’s simple or not.

There is plenty of other information out there on science, but much of it is not easily accessible to the masses - and some of it is a bit dated. Science is constantly evolving. We are always learning new things, constantly revising what we know and what we think we know.

Some people will say Wonders of the Universe is science-lite; dumbing down for the masses. I disagree. Simplified doesn’t necessarily mean wrong, and it certainly isn’t a bad thing. My OU course simplifies things all the time. So do scientists. I think Prof Cox is very good indeed at taking a really complicated idea and presenting it in such a way that those who have never studied science or astronomy can grasp it. His enthusiasm is a joy to see.

I can quite understand how some people would find him irritating; he’s a bit of an acquired taste, and he can be a little odd. But I like him, and I like the way he presents his subject with simplicity and enthusiasm - although, as a friend has pointed out, the series is a little like the great Michael Palin’s travel diaries in places... But who wouldn’t take that job if it were offered to them?

Accusations of being terribly trendy have been levelled at him and his fans - but is that such a bad thing? If jumping on a bandwagon gets people interested in science, surely that can only be a good thing. It’s a sad fact that many people are more interested in celebrity nonsense than in things that actually matter - so if Prof Cox is using his popularity and “trendiness” to get people to watch and learn: good for him!

Most people will get no further than this TV series - but a few will fall in love with science and knowledge because of it, and will go further, read more, perhaps even take up some science study. That’s priceless.

I am well into Book 2: Earth and Space now. Chapters 3 and 4 talked about earthquakes and volcanoes; I used to love physical geography at school, so I was gratified to find that I remembered much of these subjects.

Fabulously, we had to take a look at a seismology website: the British Geological Society, in order to take a look at seismic activity around the UK in the last 30 days. Which can be found here. FYI, the most recent earthquake was in the Norweigan Sea on February 26, occurred at a depth of 37.4km and measured magnitude 3.6 on the Richter scale. So, just a tiny one then.

This seemed quite topical, considering the disaster that has befallen Christchurch in New Zealand. It's so unusual to see that kind of devastation in a modern, Western country - 200+ lives lost doesn't sound like many when compared to Pakistan's 2005 quake, which killed 54,000 people. That quake triggered landslides; and of course, people live in much poorer buildings in very close proximity.

That's why the scale of destruction in New Zealand is so shocking. There is a modern city, built to withstand the earthquakes that happen there on a regular basis. So why was it so destructive? The people of Christchurch had only just recovered from September's magnitude 7.2 quake - a monster, but one that killed nobody. There was damage, but not devastation. Last week's earthquake was a mere 6.3.

Well, it happened at a much shallower depth. And it caused liquefaction of the land Christchurch stands upon. Basically, it turned the soil to soaking wet mud by releasing an awful lot of water from the soil and bedrock. Double whammy...

People of Christchurch, my thoughts are with you. I wish you the very best of luck with rebuilding your city - and some respite from Earth movements.

Rock samples

Chapter 5 began with a foray into the box of goodies sent by the Open University before Christmas. There are six rock samples in there: a (really rather good) quartz crystal, sandstone, limestone (containing crinoid fossils), schist (I love that word), basalt and granite.

I might have to do some hippy-trippy stuff with the crystal at some point. And there are garnet grains within the schist. Probably not enough to make a gemstone, but you never know...

So that was practical exercise number two. It was a little time-consuming, but pretty interesting. The course gets you to see things that you wouldn't otherwise notice - and I had taken a close look at the rock samples before today.

I didn't do the Acid Test, however; we have no vinegar. This is a shame, and is testament to the fact that we rarely eat chips. I now want chips. Bit of a fail all round, really.

The course is going really well. I'm a couple of days behind, but I think this is because I start my weeks on a Monday, and the course guidelines start it on a Saturday. Which is clearly wrong. So I'm on the right track, and enjoying it immensely!

The only slight niggle I have is that I haven't received my results for TMA01 - the first tutor-marked assignment I completed. I handed it in a couple of days ahead of the deadline, and now I'm champing at the bit to find out how I did. I think I probably did quite well - but it's entirely possible I misunderstood a question or three. Apart from the one that is worded by a monkey that speaks English as a second language...

Stand by. Results will be posted when I have them, along with much wailing and gnashing of teeth. Or clinking of glasses.

I have almost finished Chapter Six of Book One: The Water Cycle. Again, it is information I’m revisiting from school, but it is a welcome reminder – both of the facts, and the singular re-realisation that our planet is just incredible.

The carbon cycle comes next, and progress is good. Then I have to take a test. Two, in fact! A computer-marked assessment (which I inadvertently started the other day – I hope it hasn’t buggered up my chances of submitting it properly!) and a tutor-marked assignment, that I hope I can put into the correct format.

I’m still having trouble remembering the scientific conventions, and maths is frightening me slightly, but I’m getting there.

Quiet reflection

One of the recent activities – activity 4.3 – asked us to review our progress so far, referring back to the study plan we made at the beginning. I’m quite pleased with my progress; I’m slightly ahead of schedule and not spinning around in panic. This is Good.

The course also wants us to read “actively”. I do this anyway, or I find I retain nothing. Making notes of what I think are the salient points as I go along is my technique. Read a paragraph; summarise the main points. Draw a diagram here and there to illustrate my words.

Time management, I am beginning to find, is going to be crucial to success during this degree. At the moment, my week looks like this – and it’s going pretty well:

• Monday – an hour’s study after work (usually 6.30 – 7.30)
• Tuesday – an hour at lunchtime, and an hour after work
• Wednesday – an hour after work
• Thursday – an hour at lunchtime (yoga in the evening, d’you see?)
• Friday – two hours after work
• Saturday – 2-3 hours in the morning, 2-3 hours in the afternoon
• Sunday – 2-3 hours in the morning, 2-3 hours in the afternoon

It really helps that I’m enjoying it! I do worry slightly about the weekends I’m away – like this coming weekend, for example. We’re at a birthday party, which is likely to get raucous, on Friday night, then I’m at a hen party on the Saturday and in the evening. So Sunday is (hungover) study day. But I’m far enough ahead, I hope.

Active reading isn’t just note making – I tend to discuss what I’ve learned with Joe. He asks me questions, sometimes to clarify what I’ve said, and sometimes picking random (and obscure) facts from the book to test me on.

I think the book could do with more questions and mini-tests – I find them very useful, to check that I’ve really understood what they’re trying to teach us.

The activities have been excellent – not too taxing, and perfectly designed to make us constantly review and revisit what we’re learning.

All in all: not too shabby.

I’m looking forward to Thursday night. It’s our first tutorial. Bring on the OU student fellowship!

My lovely and long-suffering husband, Joe, is marvellous at presents. For our first wedding anniversary, he bought me a 1940s fountain pen because I had said that I was going to revive the ancient art of letter writing. It’s beautiful, it writes smoothly, and it somehow gives weight to the words on the paper. Letters written with love, using a beautiful device.

For Christmas, he bought me a scientific calculator, because I need one for S104: Exploring Science. It’s a fabulous present, one that I really need, and that frightens me just a little bit. Because the manual resembles a medium-sized paperback novel. It’s a Casio Power Graphic fx-9750G with 32KB of memory. Apparently it can plug into a Personal Computer. Crivens.

ScaryCalc

Its name is now ScaryCalc.

So, the first thing I did with it was to write BOOBIES and SHELLOIL, then turn them into a graph. I am not twelve.

Book 1: Global Warming

I’m still working through chapter three. This is good, as I’m a week or so ahead of the schedule, and we’re going away for a week on Friday. I’d like to have begun chapter four before we leave.

I’ve just learned how to input exponentials into ScaryCalc. I actually worked this out on my own, then looked at the manual to check I was really correct. So I can calculate:

2.45 x 10⁵ x 3.2 x 10⁷

And the answer, incidentally, is 7.84 x 10¹²

This is good. I’ve not got much further than this yet though. It took me ages. This doesn’t bode well. However, I’m now learning about significant figures, and all their uses. I’m not quite sure I totally understand this yet. For example, I’m not entirely sure how you can write 543 to one significant figure. I think it would be 500, and I guess the extreme error would be a reflection of the accuracy of the rest of the data used to get that figure. I’m sure I’ll get there. I’m okay with something like 2.434 to two significant figures (2.4).

Hmm. I find maths really difficult. 1111.1 x 10⁴ + 1.1111 x 10⁴ equals 1.1122 x 10⁷ which I got wrong, but I’m not really sure why. I shall revisit that question in a day or so, and see if I get it correct. I came up with 1122111.0 which is clearly ridiculous.

Anyway, I’m done for the day. We’re off to my mum and dad’s place for a chilli. But first I’m making lemon biscuits and we’re going treasure hunting.

I have a travelbug to place in a cache in the canal. Freddy the Frog is trying to get to Oxford.

And on that note, sayonara sausages.

This studying lark is bad. It’s bad. I never ate this much chocolate before. I think it’s a distraction technique to be honest. I sit down, there’s chocolate nearby, and it finds its way into my face. I don’t know how it does it. It may be of interest to science…

Speaking of science. I checked my precipitation gauges when I got home, and lo! there was 3mm of precipitation in each. The funnel had blown off, which I semi-predicted, but still. 3mm of shiny precipitation. And no pee. This is a Result. I dutifully recorded said measurement, stuck the funnel on with Blu-Tak and put them back outside. We’re forecast rain for the rest of my life, it seems, so I may actually get vaguely interesting results. Or at least different measurements.

I did have a little trouble measuring. I bent one of those metal tape measures at 10cm, so it starts from the bottom (if that makes sense), but I had trouble seeing the level. Would food colouring help perhaps? I’ll see. I might add some food colouring. Oh, and for my record, gauge 1 is the one without the funnel.

I’m blogging because Joe isn’t home yet. He’s on his way back from Leeds, but traffic is pants I think. So I can’t do an exercise vid, or yoga, because he has the computer and my yoga mat in the car. The blogging will turn into studying shortly. I finished chapter 2; chapter 3 is “The Earth’s Surface Temperature”. I’m hoping it’ll be a little more interesting…

Now. Last night we watched BBC’s Stargazing Live, which was great. I’m going to make a device to look at the sun on a piece of paper, and we saw great images of the eclipse that I missed because – again! – it was cloudy. But importantly, it was presented by Professor Brian Cox. I know he has a permanent smile, and he’s a little geeky. But there’s something about him. I want to cuddle him and keep him in my pocket. Ahem.

I do like him. He’s so obviously passionate about what he does. And passionate about introducing science to The Public too – and I guess why he’s always got that slightly knowing smile on his face. He’s got a job he loves, and he’s bloody lucky. And he knows it. It’s catching, too, that enthusiasm. I really hope that this course will take me somewhere near his plane of existence – in a slightly different direction, but really caring about what I’m doing.

This weekend I’m going to make that device for looking at the sun. And a pinhole camera. And win some poker money from my friends.

Interlude

A small rant. Sometimes I really enjoy my job. I like the people I share an office with, and the work is generally interesting enough to keep me from screaming. But why are some people SO BLOODY RUDE? One of my colleagues (from a different department) is just obnoxious sometimes, and there is no need for it. Drives me up the wall. One day he shall be told to go forth and multiply, but that day was not today.

Why are people rude though? And mean? I mean, everyone has an off-day, feels a little grumpy and out of sorts. But not everybody is bloody rude to other people. A little kindness goes a long way. A smile, a nice word, a greeting. No snapping, no shouting, no abruptness. It spreads the love, maaaan, and keeps the world spinning smoothly. A caravan of love, if you like. My resolution is to be nicer to people, especially the ones who are rude (not least because it really annoys them). Random acts of kindness, and smiling at strangers, is the way forward.

A new song

This morning I heard “I Want You” by Elvis Costello for the first time. I didn’t even realise I had it. It hit me like a hurricane; what a song. He drags you through the emotions with him whether you want to go there or not; it’s pleasure and pain, and it is stupendous.

It's here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DWt6XxP2biE

Apparently I need the album “Blood and Chocolate” now – which is where the song is from. That sounds fine to me. More chocolate; but chocolate for the soul, this time.

Peace out.

Welcome to 2011. Goodbye to 2010; a little sadly, as it was a great year. Packed full of fun and excitement, and chopped up into little slices of human-created time. 2011 is going to be filled with learning, as well as fun. Right now, it's grey and miserable outside, but warm and cosy in here. If a little befuddled... and so we begin.

I did say that I would begin my first experiment today - and begin it I have. This is the experiment at the end of Chapter 2 - Global warming - an interdisciplinary issue. I need to measure precipitation over two weeks (I do feel a little like I'm back at school, which to be honest is not a bad thing...) so I have Started Thinking About It.

I need two rain gauges, and I'm supposed to think about how I will measure the mean daily precipitation over two weeks. Considering the following questions:

• What type of collecting vessel will you use for the rain gauge? Should it have a particular size or shape? Does it need some form of cover?

I need two gauges. One with a funnel, one without - in order to look at the effects of evaporation. I will use a jam jar for the funnel-less receptacle; an Evian bottle for the funnelly one (left behind after the new year celebrations by my best friend Emma). I've cut the top third of the bottle off, and inverted it to make a funnel. This also ensures that the opening of the gauge is the same size as the bottom. Although, Evian bottles are not straight-sided - so I may need to change this to a lemonade bottle with straight sides. The same principle applies though.

They need to be flat-bottomed and straight sided. So, at the suggestion of my lovely assistant Joe, I may melt some wax and cover the bottoms of the gauges with this, in order to create a flat bottom.

• Where will you site the rain gauge?

Well. We have a back garden, but it's pretty sheltered, with overhanging trees and shrubs. And a lot of birds on our bird feeders (which is great, but I don't want them messing with my experiment!) We are lucky enough to have a front garden too, which is pretty private, and with plenty of room to site a rain gauge. So there it shall be. To the left of the front door, between the front window and the box hedge, but not too sheltered.

• How will you measure the amount of precipitation?

I have access to rulers, which I will use. However, we also have a Vernier gauge, which will be very accurate indeed. I shall measure both inside the vessel, in the water itself, and outside the vessel.

• How often will you record the data? Should you empty the rain gauge after each measurement?

I will measure the precipitation and record the data every day at around 6.30pm (if possible). I will not empty the rain gauge after each measurement, because it is entirely possible that some days there will not be enough to physically measure with my rulers.

• What problems might you have in measuring the precipitation?

The amount collected may be too small to measure each day. This is one reason why I will not empty the gauge after each measurement. Measurements taken from the outside of the vessel may be distorted visually by the material. The meniscus will need to be taken into account.

I'm going to set up my gauges either tomorrow or the next day, depending on which receptacle I decide to use.

My other task is to start planning my studying time. I really need to print off a timetable of some sort and stick it on the wall. I also need a decent sized diary. I need lists, and things written down, as well as online calendars. It's like the difference between books and e-books. E-books have their uses - great for holidays when you don't want your luggage allowance taken up with books - but they are not tangible things. They don't smell. You can't really touch them. So they're not really real.

And an unreal study plan and calendar is no use to man nor beast. Nor intrepid voyager.

Study space preparation has begun. Tidying has happened. I need to make a blind or curtain. And a cushion. But I do have a very nice new lamp, courtesy of my best friend Emma (she who provided the Evian bottle). It's from Cornwall, and it's stripy, and it's bloody lovely. So now I have a comfortable study space.

Couple more pictures on the walls; a calendar; a diary; and we're almost ready to be off. Tomorrow will be spent studying Chapter 2 itself.

I wish you all a very happy new year. May it bring you everything you desire.