The everyday blog of Richard Bartle.
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10:29am on Tuesday, 10th September, 2024:
Anecdote
I went to the United States Embassy yesterday evening, where a reception for Humanists UK was being held. I met some very interesting people and bumped into Lord Khan, the Parliamentary Under-Secretary of State (Lords Minister for Faith, Communities and Resettlement). OK, so this was a literal bumping-into — I was walking past him when he took a step back — but hey, it all counts for brushes with fame! Not that he's famous enough for his Wikipedia page to have been updated post-election, but still.
I had rather longer chats than "sorry" with other people, on topics including proprtional representation, assisted dying, university debates, teaching humanism in schools, differences working in the foreign office under a new government, and the problems arising from a working-class background.
The reason I went wasn't for the convivial conversation, though, and certainly not for the canapés, but because I got to see what the inside of the US Embassy looked like.
This is what it looks like from the outside:
My guess is that the fancy fluting there is some kind of protection against explosions. Take it off, and it's basically a large glass cube. This gives it the properties of a greenhouse, which makes it very energy-efficient.
It's easy to find, as it's right opposite a protestors' caamp:
If you're building an embassy somewhere, consider where protestors are going to set up camp nearby. At least this one doesn't offer as much space as Grosvenor Square did when the Embassy was there.
There are some very nice stretches of water around the building, including this lily pond.
This is so there's a moat to stop people trying to ram the building using stolen trucks packed with things that go bang.
This is the wall that greets you once you get past security and into the building:
The sense of scale isn't appparent from the photo, but that eagle is enormous. When I stood in front of that wall, my head came up to the first line of writing at the bottom (which is where the names of past ambassadors are carved). I'd need two of me just to reach the bottom of the circle with the eagle in it.
The reception was held in an atrium at the bottom of some steps to the right of the eagle wall.
I arrived relatively early, which is why it looks empty. I expect that the interior walls are somewhat sturdier than the glass, exterior walls. This was the most expensive embassy building to construct in the world, so that security money has all gone somewhere.
Speaking of interior walls, on the left there, there's a wall with the US Constitution written on it:
The Deputy Chief of Mission who gave us a welcoming speech was at pains to tell us how the US and the UK are both strong advocates of freedom of religion and freedom of lack of religion. He said how the separation of state and religion was written into the US constitution. I sensed his sudden unease when he realised that this is rather not the case in the UK.
Finally, there's this picture of George Washington hanging at the far end of the reception area:
It's a copy of the Lansdowne Portrait, but probably not one by the original artist unless it's on loan from somewhere. Washington looks to be saying "walk this way", but you can't because the adjacent corridor he's pointing at has two guards on it.
All in all, it was well worth a trip but I'd have liked to have seen more of it. Apparently, they do tours.
I had to eat a packet of liquorice allsorts on the way home. Those canapés were not filling.
8:46am on Monday, 9th September, 2024:
Anecdote
My new puncture repair kit arrived in time yesterday for me to have a go at repairing my bike's puncture.
I'm not very good at puncture repairs. I don't know why, I follow the instructions, but there always seems to be some route for the air to escape from under the patch. It normally takes me two or three attempts to strike lucky, but yesterday it was still leaking on attempt 4. Attempt 5 is now sitting in a vice, more to punish the inner tube than in the belief that pressure will stick the patch down. It's only a pinprick, I couldn't even find where it had come in on the tyre.
I did manage to fix the bike, though, by using a spare inner tube I had from the last time I failed to fix a puncture. The price of a new inner tube is only about double that of a puncture repair kit, so this is clearly the way to do it next time.
Getting the inner tube into the tyre without damaging either posed its usual problems, but after 15 minutes I managed it. I would have done it a little faster if it hadn't started to rain and made me move everything under cover in the garage. Putting the wheel on the bike was a job because I had to take off one of the brake pads, which had four different curved washers on it and no indication as to which one went where; I had to use the other brake pad as a model.
The gear system on the bike is some kind of derailleur system. The bike I had in my teens and the one I got at university used an internal gear system, so I never learned how to align derailleur gears with the grip shift settings. I had a guess, but I think I'll have to look that up — if only to find out where the piece of plastic goes that fell off when I removed the wheel.
Anyway, once all this was completed and the rain had stopped, I took the bike out for a spin. The gears clicked and when I put the brakes on they didn't go off again upon releasing the brake handle, but I can probably sort all that out.
I won't be doing it for a while though. It turns out that the foam padding inside my cycle helmet lines up exactly with where I cut my head last week and it's unpleasantly painful to wear.
I don't know what I did to offend the universe, but it's definitely not happy with me.
10:53am on Sunday, 8th September, 2024:
Anecdote
I haven't bought any loose-leaf tea for a while, so decided to treat myself to some darjeeling. Looking on Amazon, most of the packets were only small amounts — 100g or so — which didn't suggest they'd last very long. They also seemed expensive. Why buy 100g when I could buy ten times that amount for only twice the price?
Hmm. Here's why not.
There's rather more tea in a kilogram than I was anticipating.
I expect I'll still be drinking it in 2025.
10:28am on Saturday, 7th September, 2024:
Anecdote
I noticed on Thursday that my bicycle had a flat tyre, so I thought this morning I'd fix it.
Getting the wheel off the bike was harder than I expected, because the nuts were quite tight. Getting the tyre off to give me access to the inner tube was every bit as hard as I expected, and took the best part of half an hour. Getting the inner tube out of the tyre wasn't as easy as I was hoping, either, because the valve is rather big.
Identifying the leak was a breeze: put some air in the inner tube, dunk it in a bowl of water and look for the bubbles.
Last time I had a puncture, it was next to the valve and couldn't be fixed: I had to buy a new tyre. This time, it was opposite the valve. No problem!
I prepared the surface and opened an unused tube of rubber solution glue. Nothing came out: it had solidified in the tube. Never mind, I had a second unopened tube, so I tried that. Its glue had also solidified. So had that of the third unopened tube, which I inherited from my father-in-law. So had the fourth unopened tube, which I inherited from my father. OK, well I don't suppose either of the latter two had ridden a bike for several decades, so perhaps it's excusable that their rubber solution glues were now just plain rubber. I have, though, and was miffed that the same fate had befallen my own unopened tubes. I didn't have any opened tubes; I'm aware that they tend to solidify once exposed to air.
Oh well. A new kit is only £3.85 from Amazon, free delivery tomorrow, so I'll fix it then (or maybe next weekend if it arrives too late tomorrow). I don't need one of the kits that comes with tyre levers, as I have about ten of them.
I'm not worried by the dent in my finances that £3.85 represents, but it is a little disconcerting to realise that a wealthy person might be similarly unworried by a dent in their finances a hundred times that much. Hey, why spend an hour fixing a puncture for an otherwise perfectly-serviceable bike when you can buy a new bike that's puncture-free?
10:25am on Friday, 6th September, 2024:
Weird
According to its signage, this shop in Charing Cross Road is the world's largest Banksy exhibit.
Nah, I'm pretty sure Bristol is bigger.
7:44am on Thursday, 5th September, 2024:
Anecdote
I managed to do myself a minor injury yesterday.
As with most injuries to the head, there was a lot of blood at first but it soon stopped. I don't think it needs stitches.
As for how it happened...
I ordered myself one of those personalised embossers to use on books, so that when I loan them to students (or, more importantly, members of staff) they remember where they came from. I'll be receiving it formally at Christmas, but I thought I'd better check that it worked first.
The embosser looks a bit like a stapler. I tried it on a random piece of paper and couldn't make a dent in it. I tried again, pressing harder, and it still did nothing. I put it on my desk, stood over it, put both hands on it and pressed with my full strength.
The embosser slipped over, I followed through, and in the process banged my head on a shelf. The result is the impressive cut shown in the photo.
The embosser still left no mark on the paper, other than a fold where it had slipped. I had to take the die out of the embosser and close it onto a piece of paper in a vice to get it to leave an imprint. It probably just needs a few more of those to get the edges rounded a bit and then it'll work in the stapler-like bit.
I'm hoping that the cut heals up as well as the vertical one I gave myself in 2022 did.
7:42am on Wednesday, 4th September, 2024:
Weird
Two statues in Leicester Square (where film premieres take place in London):
It looks as if the umbrella has to be open if you want to use it to fly.
8:21am on Tuesday, 3rd September, 2024:
Weird
Prompt: "Cadbury's finger chocolate-covered biscuits".
Midjourney:
Yeah, it still can't do fingers properly.
9:06am on Monday, 2nd September, 2024:
Anecdote
Sometimes, some of my exam questions are effectively multi-choice. I'll say something like "Here are four categories and ten situations. Associate each of the situations with the category that best describes it.".
Some exams, particularly involving first-year undergraduates, are all multi-choice. This is because marking 300 papers is a lot easier if a computer does it for you.
To pass a module, students need to get an aggregate of 40% or more across exams and coursework, with at least 30% in both. Because coursework marks are generally a lot higher than 40%, this means that candidates often only need 30% in the exam to pass.
If it's a multi-choice exam, though, you're going to get some questions right just by guessing. So ... how many questions do you need to get right to meet the minimum needed to pass?
Let's say you need to get at least Q% questions right, chosen from R options, and the pass mark is P%. In general:
Q + (100-Q)/R = P
so Q=(RP-100)/(R-1)
Plugging in the numbers:
R P% Q%
4 30 6.67
4 40 20
5 30 12.5
5 40 25
So if there are 50 ABCD questions and a pass mark of 30%, you only need to get 4 questions right and you've passed. OK, so luck plays a part (that (100-Q)/R is an average), but if you can rule out one of the answers then that increases your chances. That said, I have seen candidates score less than 25% on a 4-option mutli-choice exam.
Anyway, switching from R=4 to R=5 makes quite a difference, at least for a pass mark of 30%. So, should I give my multi-choice questions 4 options or 5?
Well, I know all this and I usually give them 4 options. That's because I am aware of what's coming in the rest of the question (that isn't mult-choice) and I don't want to have to mark a lot of resits.
I'll only ask multi-choice questions at most once per paper, and the section will be worth either 8, 10 or 12 marks (out of 100). If my whole paper was multi-choice, I'd want 5 options (the blank forms don't allow more).
Some lecturers ask questions that are binary, yes/no.
R P% Q%
2 30 -40
2 40 -20
A coin is going to pass those.
Still, if it pays its £9,250 per term, the university doesn't care.
9:55am on Sunday, 1st September, 2024:
Weird
When Americans are in charge.
8:43am on Saturday, 31st August, 2024:
Anecdote
I was walking to the local shop yesterday when a woman shouted "Morning!" from the other side of the road.
I had no idea who she was, but she sounded annoyed — as if she'd already shouted it once and I'd ignored her. I therefore shouted "Morning" back.
She looked at me as if I was some kind of weirdo.
It turned out that she was calling her dog, which she'd inexplicably "Morning".
7:58am on Friday, 30th August, 2024:
Comment
12:13pm on Thursday, 29th August, 2024:
Anecdote
I'm in the throes of marking again.
Two resit assignments occupied Tuesday.
Three resit exams occupied Wednesday.
A late version of one of the resit assignments I marked on Tuesday occupied some of this morning. The rest was occupied by reading one of the six MSc dissertations I have to read by next week (with two more late submissions to come), along with organising the project demonstrations and orals for my own supervisees.
We actually have a two-week window in which to hold the PDOs, but I'm away at a conference for the second half of the second week, so that rather limits my options. Other lecturers are doubtless away for parts of next week. We have so many supervisees and second assessments to do that timetable clashes are inevitable and have to be worked around. Also, because the supervisor and supervisee have to be present in the same room when the PDO takes place (for visa reasons), there are further clashes for those supervisors who share offices with other supervisors, which is most of them.
It''s always a mess organising these PDOs. It didn't used to be, when we had a small enough number of MSc students that they could present their work in a meeting room and when supervisers were paired up for assessments so they could do all of them consecutively in blocks. Nowadays, meeting rooms are at a premium and assessors are allocated pretty well at random. We're getting dissertations to read that are well outside our areas of expertise. I'm having to assess work on subjects such as dialogue analysis and diabetes recognition; I managed to get out of one on cognitive capacity by swapping with a games one that I should have been second assessor for since October if the allocations had been made somewhat less randomly.
Not a good time to be asked to referee a journal paper, then.
8:50am on Wednesday, 28th August, 2024:
Weird
Here's a model of the Titanic, made out of lego and string:
It looks pretty good, but I can't help thinking it needs more lifeboats.
12:40pm on Tuesday, 27th August, 2024:
Anecdote
Earlier this year, I bought a vacuum flask so I wouldn't have to pay the exhorbitant prices that the university charges for tea. The flask doesn't keep tea well, but it's fine for decaffeinated coffee so that's what I put in it.
That's also what came out of it in the car this morning. It seems to have developed a leak.
Oh well, even if I throw it out to teach it a lesson, it's still saved me money.
The interior of the car is going to smell of coffee for weeks.
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Copyright © 2024 Richard Bartle (richard@mud.co.uk).