I admit that I have arrived somewhat late to the YouTube party. Of course, over the years I’ve dipped in and out of this online behemoth to watch the occasional amusing cat, rock band or viral craze. It’s also undoubtedly the best platform to keep up with the latest lateshowmonologues (if you’re into that), to learn how to put up a shelf, or determine whether this or that object will blend (that is the question). Yet it was only in late 2016 that I really started to get hooked on specific YouTube channels and their ‘content creators’. I now semi-regularly check out lifestyle advice from alpha m., enjoy incredible filmography, tech reviews and storytelling from Casey Neistat, quirky content and positive vibes from Lilly Singh (aka IISuperwomanII), and marvel at incredible trick shots from Dude Perfect. These and other creators on YouTube regularly put out short (3-15 minute) films that provide a compact and free source of laughter, advice, inspiration, and motivation.
Both of those papers about Periodic Videos end with a call to action for other scientists to consider engaging with the public on YouTube (or through other under-utilized technologies). I would wholeheartedly agree, particularly when you consider that YouTube may now be the second largest internet search tool after Google. In an ideal world, searches about scientific topics should result in high quality results on both platforms (i.e. with information that is discoverable, accessible and correct). It is suggested that eight out of ten 18-49 year-olds watch YouTube every month. Though this audience are not necessarily there to learn about science, they may be open to it. Haran and Poliakoff propose, and I would agree, that there is a surprisingly high demand for science-based content when it is presented in the right way. In support of this view, below I highlight some science-themed videos on YouTube from Periodic Videos as well as other creators that are producing incredible work. If you enjoy what they are doing, why not leave them a like, hit that subscribe button…and consider making a similar YouTube video yourself.
I wanted to post a quick update about the blog series describing my experiences as a Marie Skłodowska-Curie Fellow – see earlier posts here and here. My initial idea to write about this chronologically as I progressed through the Fellowship ended up feeling a bit cumbersome. In trying to figure why this approach didn’t work, and to develop a better way to write the story, time went by and I didn’t post anything! I still think it is a worthwhile exercise to capture how I felt and what I did during the last three years, what went well, and what I think I would do differently if I had the time over. If it is in any way interesting or useful to even one person it will have been worth uploading here.
I can’t quite believe my Fellowship will end in just two months – but finally I have figured out a new blogging plan. After I am finished, I will write a series of new posts that each focus on a specific aspect of the journey: financial, research, etc. These should avoid overlap, allow readers to skip any topics they are not interested in, and prove easier to read. Watch this space!
One of the benefits of living in a big city is that for every and any niche subject, hobby or interest you might be keen on, you can find others to enjoy it with. Often there are enough similarly-minded people to form a critical mass that can sustain relevant themed bars, restaurants or regular events. A restaurant that serves only garlic-flavoured food and drinks? No problem. Halloween costume parade for your dog? Come on down!
With such a ‘niche’ general interest in science, during my time in New York City I naturally sought out as many so-called ‘Science Cafes’ as I could find. For the uninitiated, these events are typically hosted in bars or restaurants and cater for the scientifically-curious lay public. A professional scientist gives a general, lively talk on their work, and you get to geek out with others over a glass of your favourite tipple. Here I wanted to highlight a few I enjoyed in 2015-2017. As far as I know, these are all still currently active, so go check them out if you get chance!
One of the best curators in town, the Secret Science Club hosts regular (~monthly) free events at the Bell House and low-cost ticketed events at Symphony Space – each with a themed cocktail to boot! I learnt about the intelligence of dolphins from Diana Reiss, and enjoyed thought-provoking talks on the “Anatomy of Love” by Helen Fisher and the “Selfish Gene & Beyond” by Richard Dawkins. The Bell House has a smaller bar up front and a much bigger space at the back where the talks are given. Seating is available but limited, and the house fills up quickly, so get there early! If possible, try to predict the how much draw the speaker will have. Although there is usually plenty of standing room, some events are so popular you can’t make it into the main room to see the stage (though they do put the audio on speakers throughout). For the ticketed events at Symphony Space this is not an issue, but these can sell out quickly. Follow their blog at the link above to get the information at the earliest possibility!
A must-attend for anyone with an interest in Chemistry (and cabaret), this monthly event is curated by 1981 Nobel prize winner Roald Hoffmann. Attended by the man himself, the evening follows a unique, science-talk and matched arts-performance format. It was great to see my post-doctoral advisor take the floor, and the tribute event for Oliver Sacks was particularly moving. The seating-only space is cosy and intimate, with excellent food and drink options. Advance booking is recommended.
This monthly offering by the AMNH takes place in a large and unusual space within the museum itself. For some reason, I found this event fun just because you are in a public space after hours – helped of course by the fact that alcoholic drinks and snacks are also available. These events are typically standing-only, subscribe to the AMNH Adult Programs Email Newsletter for the best chance to secure tickets.
During the academic year, head into the Physics Department at Columbia University for an evening of public lecture and (weather-permitting) actual star-gazing on the rooftop of the Pupin building. Telescopes are of course provided. I’m sad to say that I never got the chance to look out into space, but the lecture focussed on the first experimental reports of gravitational wave detection was superb.
A fantastic venue with some fantastic speakers, focussed predominately on the trials and tribulations of human exploration past and present. Entering on the ground floor you are presented by globes and various impressive articles of expedition. At the first floor you meet taxidermied bears and sit in talks surrounded by Explorer Club flags that have been to the farthest reaches of our world. Worthy of mention is the flag taken by James Cameron to the bottom of the Mariana Trench! I was privileged to hear a talk by Mike Massimino, retired NASO astronaut, on his experiences of space exploration. He also told an inspiring story on the importance of perseverance – unsuccessfully applying several times for the astronaut program at NASA but never giving up on his dream.
Did you attend any of these? Did I miss any great New York Science Cafes? Comment below!
If you caught the firstflurry of posts on this blog last year, you’ll know I started a Marie Skłodowska Curie Fellowship back in October 2015. After working at Imperial College London, UK for seven years, I was now to be employed at University of Rennes 1 (UR1), France for the next three. The first two of those years would be spent at Columbia University, USA, before returning to work at UR1 for the final year.
In the second post of this series documenting my Fellowship experience I’ll be covering the first six months in the USA: October 2015 to March 2016. For clarity, I’ve split the story up into three different sections: Research, Admin and Personal.
Starting a new research project in a new environment was more challenging than I expected. Firstly, all the institutional processes are different, from running familiar analysis techniques (e.g. NMR, mass spec) to ordering new materials or equipment. For new projects, you are also trying to figure out techniques that you have never encountered before. These have a particularly steep learning curve. For me, one notable hurdle was making the switch between different software that essentially does the same job. I had become competent using MATLAB for data analysis and preparing figures, but the new lab exclusively used Igor. The syntax and overall coding strategy is quite different, so even simple tasks initially proved a real pain. Another thing – though I had worked across multiple labs before, working effectively across two new labs took time (my project involved running both physical chemistry/physics and synthetic chemistry experiments, requiring different equipment). Of course, I was lucky that these were in the same building – some people regularly work across labs in different campuses or in different cities. Altogether, in addition to attending all the relevant safety courses (never a bad thing to get a refresher), my first weeks and months involved figuring out the really interesting questions from ‘Oh, how do you concatenate waves in Igor?’, to ‘Uh…where do you guys keep the 24/40 adaptors’?
The massive upside to all this effort is that you gain new perspectives on how departments, research groups and labs can be run and organized – from the extent of inter-group collaboration(s), to outreach activities, to community building (networking events, seminar series). You can take what works best forward with you in your career, constantly comparing it to your previous experiences. I also quickly became aware of some key differences at the institutional level, for example the PhD viva/defence. In the UK, the candidate is first examined behind closed doors over perhaps 45 min to 2 h, followed by a group celebration (assuming they pass). In the USA, the candidate first gives an open lecture, followed by a closed exam/Q&A, and then the group celebrates. Failing to appreciate this, I missed practically all the first PhD defence from the group (sorry Olgun!), though I did arrive in time for snacks.
Lab work aside I also spent a lot of time at my desk (beyond coding). I was putting together presentations of my previous research to present in group meetings, and reading a lot of literature specific to the new project. As I was based in the USA with collaborators in France, it was initially planned that I would write quarterly reports to keep everyone informed. This turned out to be unnecessarily burdensome, especially given that I was already presenting updates in two different group meetings (one for each lab I worked in). We ultimately switched quarterly update reports to PowerPoint/email updates, which saved a lot of time. During this period, I was also surprised by the sheer amount of work (paper revisions, reviewer rebuttals, etc) carried over from my previous position at Imperial. It required considerable chunks of weekend time over the first 4-5 months. One such weekend was during a massive blizzard that hit New York, even closing the roads in Manhattan. I did get to trudge through/play in it a little, though – and the manuscript(s) were ultimately accepted (winwin?!). The biggest single improvement to my working life during this period was when I upgraded to a brand-new laptop (purchased using grant money). Prior to this, some days felt like I was running at ~20% efficiency, at a rate limited by the processing power of my valiant, but struggling, old notebook.
Of course, during this period I also started to gather together the first crop of new results, and first encounter some of the fundamental research challenges that would keep me busy for several months/years (/decades?).
Disclaimer: I really hope the following long section does not sound like I am in any way complaining. A lot of the difficulties I ran into could probably have been avoided with a little more forethought. Hopefully my experience can help others navigate the process more effectively.
In the first few months I encountered a few too many cash flow problems and a fair amount of paperwork from various angles. To try and avoid international fees I wanted to use my trusty old My Travel Cash card (apparently now discontinued) until I got my new US bank cards. This had previously worked great for me in several different countries, but in moving from the UK to the USA I had changed all my UK card billing addresses (from my London address to that of my mother’s house). I forgot to change the billing address on my saved UK card in my My Travel Cash account though, so when I next tried to charge up the card (debiting a UK card with an incorrect billing address) the card got blocked. It seemed excessively difficult to unblock it, and so after several emails/phone calls I simply stopped trying. My UK Barclaycard also didn’t seem to work reliably, despite many phone calls to Barclays trying to figure it out. Until my new bank accounts and salary payments were up and working, I survived by periodically withdrawing large amounts of cash using my UK debit card.
Due to the many distractions of the previous months, opening bank accounts in the USA and France was something that I hadn’t paid enough attention to. Boy did I get burned. Whilst living in the USA I was to get paid in Euros from UR1 in France (due to the way my Fellowship was to be administered). I learned 1-2 weeks before I moved that to get paid at all I would need to open a French bank account. Apparently, by French law French employees can only receive salary payments into French bank accounts. After opening said bank account I would need the bank to send UR1 my ‘RIB’ (Relevé d’Identité Bancaire/statement of bank identity). Then I could get paid. After that, I would transfer the Euros to my US bank account in USD and everything would be great.
It was super easy to open a bank account in the USA. I set up a meeting via email, took my Fellowship contract and ID into the branch, and got things going on day 1. Even my first US credit card application was successful – thank you HSBC. It probably helped a lot that I already banked with HSBC in the UK, I assume they have access to your financial records there (e.g. UK credit rating). By contrast, opening a bank account in France whilst living in the USA was super difficult. To open the most basic bank account with HSBC in France I was told I would need to maintain a $30,000 balance (for an ‘Advance’ account – note this sum might have been Euros, but still a lot). Crazy! Thankfully the amazing administrator team at UR1 put me on to Crédit Agricole as a possible option. It turned out that: (a) this was possible; and (b) all I needed to pay was €10 to open the account. Interesting side note: all legal documents in France must be written in French, including my contract with UR1 (helpfully written in double-column format with one side French and one side English). The banking documents from Crédit Agricole were no exception, and sent to me as a pdf. Given that I don’t yet speak French, I ended up converting these to Word documents and translating them into English to make sure everything looked legit. This, as well as all my email correspondence with the Crédit Agricole bank account managers, was translated from French-English/English-French using Google Translate. Google Translate is awesome. It took some more time and additional paperwork to add payees to my Crédit Agricole bank account (enabling me to transfer money into GBP or USD) – but the fact I could handle all of this from the USA was such a relief. I really didn’t want to have to travel to France to try and set up accounts in person. My French and US bank cards eventually arrived at my New York apartment, although I learnt the hard way that a street number entered as ‘304-6’ is converted to ‘3046’ (dash removed) on the HSBC electronic bank entry form. They sent a few cards that never arrived until ‘304-6’ was simplified to ‘304’.
The delays incurred due to the above debacle meant that after arriving in the USA to start my Fellowship on October 1st, I couldn’t access any of my salary in spendable US dollars until November 24th. By this point I had pretty much exhausted most of my savings and overdraft, and had resorted to making cash transfers using my UK credit cards. It was an unusual financial period, with the cost of flights, AirB&Bs, rent, utilities and food bills really starting to add up. I learnt a few things from the experience, though. Number 1: set up bank accounts in advance if possible, they are important! Number 2: you cannot open new credit cards in the UK (e.g. for interest free balance transfers) if you are no longer a resident there. Number 3: TransferWise is awesome. If you haven’t used TransferWise and are still using your bank to transfer money between bank accounts in different currencies, you are probably paying too much. TransferWise will transfer your money at the exact exchange rate for only a small fee (as little as 0.5%), and does it in a timely fashion. I highly recommend them. If you want to check them out, get a free transfer up to $600 and help support this blog by using this affiliate link.
A ridiculous story from this period: I had been able to purchase a US mobile phone using a UK credit card, but after the first month I needed to buy the second month of internet/text/call access. This was November, and my US cards still hadn’t made it into my possession. Like many online systems from US companies, the Cricket Wireless system did not allow me to enter a UK billing address (US state, US zip code required). To circumvent this issue, I bought a Cricket Wireless voucher from Walmart (on their system I could enter a UK billing address) and paid the bill by voucher code.
In addition to banking, I was busy with paperwork at Columbia University. I took a trip downtown to the US Social Security Administration and applied for my social security number. I discovered that by law I had to pay for healthcare/insurance in both France and the USA (there are complicated French ‘social tax’ rules, and strict US VISA requirements). Fortunately, the USA insurance payments were subsidized by my US Prof (thanks!!), so that financial burden was significantly reduced.
An important note for others thinking of, or participating in, a Marie Skłodowska Curie Global Fellowship (and maybe for other funding schemes). All the stated Euro amounts for salary, research and so on, are fixed. There appear to be no provisions/extra Euros to make up for changes in currency exchange rates. You are paid in Euros, so if you live in a foreign country your effective salary changes month-to-month. Just hope the rate varies insignificantly, or swings wildly in a favourable direction.
It was complicated setting up bank accounts in different countries, it took a couple months to get paid my Fellowship salary, TransferWise is awesome (affiliate link), everything worked out ok in the end.
As mentioned last time, I had replied to a few SpareRoom ads whilst at Heathrow airport waiting for my London->NYC flight. One of these came through. I visited the apartment on day 2 of life in NYC, and I moved in at the beginning of November. It was only a 15 min walk to Columbia University and I felt sweet relief in finding it. By all accounts it was quite amazing to get an apartment so quickly and easily in the city. Quite rightly, my housemate asked me to provide a character reference, given that I was ‘fresh off the boat’ and nobody here could vouch for me. One of my old UK Profs helped out, and so all was well. Before moving in, I stayed in three different hostels/AirBnBs around the city. It was kind of exhausting moving house most weekends and I didn’t enjoy living out of a suitcase for so long.
In a new city it takes some time to figure where to get all the standard things from/done that I had taken for granted in the UK – for example, where is best to get groceries, where to get a haircut, where to buy contact lenses. Ultimately I bought a year’s supply of contact lenses in one go (discount, baby!), before finding out that I had forgotten to cancel my contact lenses subscription in the UK. I went from owning zero lenses to having a >14 months stockpile. Nice. In NYC you have to do laundry in a laundromat, rather than in your apartment, which continues to irritate me. Having a dishwasher in my apartment, rather than doing dishes by hand, continues to delight me.
During my first week, I posted on Facebook that I was now living in NYC. It was pleasantly surprising how many friends and old acquaintances got in touch to say that they were also here! One of these was a fellow scientist who I knew through my time as singer/guitarist in a London band (more on playing in a band whilst doing a PhD in a later post) – he remixed several of our songs as ‘Late Night Munchies’. We spent Thanksgiving (Friendsgiving?) together, and have since done a lot of cool stuff in the city.
In addition to Thanksgiving, Halloween is celebrated in a big way here. There are decorations in most stores and several residential building lobbies. I was not used to seeing NYPD officers anywhere except for in films, so when walking around Greenwich Village that weekend I kept thinking they were also in fancy dress, almost invisible to me amongst the thousands of people dressed as zombies, vampires and ghouls. Experiencing the general holiday festivities here was also great fun (shop windows, ice rinks, Christmas trees), but I made my first trip back to the UK for Christmas proper. Here there were a series of catch ups/gatherings with friends and family, and I stayed in many different places (London, Oxfordshire, Bristol, North Wales, Kent and Cambridgeshire) over the ~2 weeks. I also made a quick trip back to Imperial College to finish transferring data/photocopying lab books, and caught a beer with old colleagues. It was a whirlwind. Returning to the USA that January I found the items I had shipped by sea had arrived. Reunited with some home comforts (photo frames, electric guitar, egg cups), I finally started to feel like I was living here, rather than visiting.
Of course, there were still frequent reminders I was an Englishman in New York. The local lingo alone continues to surprise and bemuse. General variations: shop (store), rocket (arugala), coriander (cilantro), rubbish (trash), underground/tube (subway), mok-ah coffee (mow-ka), nursery school (kindergarten), primary school (elementary and middle/junior high school), secondary school (high school). Some chemistry and university specifics: suba-seal (septum), ay-mean (am-ine), PhD student (graduate student), PhD viva (PhD defence), university (college), first year university student (freshmen), second year (sophomore), third year (junior), fourth year (senior). I recently had a confusing conversation about the ‘noughties’ (the decade from 2000-2009). They heard ‘naughties’ and wondered what the hell I was talking about. ‘Nought’ = ‘zero’ = 0.
Other financial tidbits that differ from the UK: there is a $3 charge to withdraw cash from a machine (if it’s not your bank’s cash machine), a preference to pay for things by cheque rather than bank transfer (e.g. monthly rent/bills), a pretty much exclusive pin number verification for debit card and signature verification for credit card system, and not that many places that carry contactless payment technology.
In 1992, Battino wrote a ‘Provocative Opinion’ piece about how rote learning has a useful role in the teaching of Chemistry. In it he makes the point that knowing the names of functional groups and molecules (easily accomplished by rote) is critical for us to communicate with each other about our subject. By learning definitions, periodic trends such as electronegativity, how to balance chemical equations, or how to convert [H+] = 1 x 10¯4 into pH = 4, we form a foundation upon which connections between concepts and a deeper understanding of say, thermodynamics, or chemical reactivity, can be built. Furthermore, there is a lot that can be done with simple facts. You may not yet know much quantum mechanics (for example), but can still propose that a metal hydroxide and hydrogen are the products of a reaction between an alkaline metal and water.
A different article, written in 1945 by Flipper and Morris, takes a similar view. On mnemonics, they add:
Students who employ mnemonic devices should exercise
care in selection of key words lest the device be more difficult to remember than the material it is intended to represent.
Adopting the point of view that this is something useful to learn, I thought it would be interesting to try my hand at some new periodic table mnemonics. These would differ from previous attempts in two respects. Firstly, most chemistry mnemonics, including those for the periodic table, seem to bear absolutely no relation to the information you are trying to remember. What does apple pie have to do with α,ω-dicarboxylic acids, and what does an oil rig have to do with electron transfer? I feel this disconnect makes the mnemonic, and so also the subject matter, more difficult to remember in the long-term. I wanted to make linked mnemonics. Secondly, most (if not all) d-block mnemonics are period-based, rather than group-based. Yet when I’m sat in a lecture, and the speaker starts talking about a particular transition metal, I want to quickly remember which group that element is in so I can calculate the d-electron count, if it is an early/late transition metal, etc. For me, a group-based mnemonic system was going to be more useful than a period-based one.
So…below you can check out my first attempt at a system of linked, group-based mnemonics for the d-block. It was actually quite fun putting them all together, in the end. In each case I use the number of the group to inspire a theme for the mnemonic (the link). Group 6 has a nautical theme (6 = sexi- = sextant), group 10 is currency (10 = decimal system used for money), and group 11 is sports (11 = number of players on a football/soccer team). To recall the elements for a given group, I use the number to trigger the theme, which in turn triggers the mnemonic. For example, group 6 triggers ‘sextant’ (nautical theme), which triggers my remembered phrase “ChroMolyTung, the Seaborgium monster of Group 6”. Thus the four elements Chromium, Molybdenum, Tungsten and Seaborgium are memorized (in order), using a mnemonic associated with the number 6 = Group 6.
Some mnemonics in my system clearly work better than others, and I will no doubt find them easier to remember because I spent time working them out. One immediate problem is that some of the mnemonics give the element order from the top to the bottom of the group, and others vice versa. However, the 3rd row metals are typically more familiar than those of the 6th, so it’s fairly easy to orient yourself. In general, if you like the concept but something isn’t clicking, why not work out an alternative? Just make sure the group number is somehow linked to the mnemonic. And please do let everyone know your new mnemonic in the comments!
Group 3 (Sc, Y)
Tri. ‘Tri-‘ is a prefix meaning three (e.g. a triangle is a shape with three angles). Tri rhymes with sky. Sky = Sc + Y (Scandium + Yttrium).
Group 4 (Ti, Zr, Hf, Rf)
Square. There are four sides to a square. ‘Squaring up’ to someone is getting ready for a fight. If you’re going to be a teaser (Ti–Zr, ‘Ti’tanium-‘Zir’conium), you might have (‘Haf’nium, Hf) to get rough (‘Ruth’erfordium, Rf).
Group 5 (V, Nb, Ta, Db)
Senses. There are five traditional senses: hearing, smell, sight, touch and taste. Dubstep (‘Dub’nium, Db) is a genre of music you listen to (hearing). Smells are often described as tantalising (‘Tant’alum, Ta). In the 1999 film, Neo (‘Nio’buim, Nb) defeats his enemies by ‘seeing’ in the Matrix (sight). The two remaining senses both start with T, an Audi ‘TT’ is a vehicle, and so is a van (‘Van’adium, V).
To help remember the order of this group you can string together a short story. For example… After a night out ‘listening’ to dubstep, you get drawn into a fast food joint by a tantalizing ‘smell’ – only to be attacked by Agent Smith! You put up a good fight as you can ‘see’ in the matrix like Neo, before making a quick getaway in your Audi ‘TT’/vehicle/van.
[Note – this kind of storytelling/visualization mnemonic is inspired by the memory techniques described in You Can Have An Amazing Memory by Dominic O’Brien]
Group 6 (Cr, Mo, W, Sg)
Sextant. A sextant is an instrument used by sailors to navigate at sea using the stars, it has a graduated arc of sixty degrees. Using a little imagination, ‘ChroMolyTung‘ (‘Chro’mium, Cr; ‘Moly’bdenum, Mo; ‘Tung’sten, W), becomes the Seaborgium (‘Sea’borgium, Sg) monster of group VI.
Group 7 (Mn, Tc, Re, Bh)
Musical notes. There are seven notes in the western diatonic scale (A-G). I always found playing guitar to be great fun, but the music theory less so. Man (‘Man’ganese, Mn), technically (‘Tech’netium, Tc) you are rheally (‘Rhe’nium, Re) bohring (‘Bohr’ium, Bh).
Group 8 (Fe, Ru, Os, Hs)
Pieces of Eight. ‘Pieces of Eight‘ have fictional associations with pirates. I imagine a pirate ship occupied by four characters, positioned from the sky to the sea (top to bottom of the group).Iron Man (Iron, Fe) sits in the crow’s nest (he flew there), Rufio (leader of the Lost Boys – Ruthenium, Ru) steers the ship on deck (he just captured the vessel from Captain Hook), the Wizard of Oz (Osmium, Os) hides below deck (like in the film but behind a curtain), and David Hasselhoff (Hassium, Hs) plays lifeguard amongst the waves.
Group 9 (Co, Rh, Ir, Mt)
999/911. If you dial 999/911, you might (Meitnerium, Mt) get rid (I’rid’ium, Ir) of rhobbers (‘Rho’dium, Rh) using cops (‘Co’balt, Co).
Group 10 (Ni, Pd, Pt, Ds)
Currency. Ten is the base of the decimal system, which we use (amongst many things) for money. A nickel (‘Nickel’, Ni) is 5 cents, or 5 pennies. In the decimal system, to make ten we must times by two (so 2 x P). The two P’s of the d-block are Palladium, Pd and Platinum, Pt (ordered down the group alphabetically). After pennies and nickels come dimes (Darmstadtium, Ds).
Group 11 (Cu, Ag, Au, Rg)
Sports. Eleven is the number of players on any football/soccer team (also cricket, field hockey…). In sports, prizes for coming 3rd, 2nd and 1st are typically awarded with bronze (the main constituent of which is Copper, Cu), silver (Silver, Ag) or gold (Gold, Au) medals, respectively. Alongside football, another popular sport is rubgy (Roentgenium, Rg).
Group 12 (Zn, Cd, Hg, Cn)
Zodiac/Hurricanes. There are twelve signs in the Western zodiac, and force twelve on the Beaufort wind force scale corresponds to the maximum wind speed of a hurricane. The zodiac is a celestial coordinate system, and the only d-elements with celestial names are Copernicium, Cn and Mercury, Hg. (The planet Mercury is also the fastest planet to orbit the sun – a planetary hurricane!) Golf is a game you would not want to play in strong winds, so grab your caddy (Cadmium, Cd) and get your galvanized (Zinc, Zn) steel clubs outta there!
These d-block mnemonics can even be summarized in picture-form…
(in case you can’t make it out, that’s a ‘teaser trailer’/Ti-Zr trailer, a fist for ‘might’/Meitnerium, a waste bin for ‘get rid’/Iridium, and facial expressions for ‘really?!’/Rhenium and ‘boring’/Bohrium)
I love hearing about/testing unusual laboratory techniques. Just because you or your colleagues have always done something a certain way, doesn’t mean there isn’t a faster, more effective, or cheaper process available. You also never know when all conventional methods to achieve something will fail (typically when attempting to purify some badass new compound), and you need to dig a little deeper into the tool box… So in case you didn’t hear about this one yet, here I’m highlighting radial chromatography (also known as centrifugal chromatography or centrifugal thin layer chromatography).
Many readers will be all too familiar with column chromatography, frequently used in synthetic chemistry to separate and purify materials. Here, solvent (the mobile phase) is eluted through silica or alumina (the stationary phase) using gravity or applied pressure (see also flash chromatography). You add your crude product mixture on top of the stationary phase, and the various components elute through the column at different speeds. The separated (hopefully now pure!) materials are then collected as they elute out the bottom.
In radial chromatography, solvent is instead eluted using centrifugal force. A circular plate containing a thin layer of silica/alumina is spun at high RPM, with crude material and solvent added in the centre. Continued rotation and addition of solvent separates out the individual components into rings. Eventually these reach the edge of the plate whereby the solution flys off into a specially designed enclosure, runs down the sides, and is collected as per the conventional approach. Using coloured compounds the process is actually rather pretty, as shown in the video below (check it out at ∼2 min).
Sadly I have never worked in a lab that had one, and only heard of the technique from reading a 2001 Lanny Liebeskindpaper. If anyone has ever used these in their research I’d love to know – how do they compare to conventional column chromatography? Can they compete in any way with modern automated flash chromatography systems, such as those offered by Biotage or ISCO?
Seeing as I’ve already been living in the USA for 11 months, the above title perhaps feels a little daft. However, it may not come as a surprise to anyone who has ever moved countries that the process is rather hectic. Since last October I’ve gradually ticked things off the to-do list(s) and finally feel somewhat settled into the new work and lifestyle. Enough to feel vaguely comfortable taking a weekend to get this long-considered blog off the ground, anyway.
So why am I even here at all? In October 2015 I had the great fortune to start a 3-year Marie Skłodowska-Curie Fellowship (MSCF) funded by the European Commission (EC). I was to work across chemistry and physics conducting research in single-molecule electronics, with the first two years based in New York, USA (‘outgoing phase’) and the final year spent in Rennes, France (‘return phase’). But that’s only the neat, glossy overview… I sent my first email about the prospective project (from my old PhD and post-doc stomping ground in London, UK) about 1.5 years before starting it – way back in April 2014! In this post I want to cover the journey from project conception to my arrival at JFK on Fellowship Day 1, before the memories completely fade, and for the benefit of others who may be applying for similar funding opportunities in years to come (closing deadline for this cycle is 14th September 2016 folks!). A lot of events during this time ran concurrently, so apologies if some parts of the story don’t run in perfect chronological order. Here’s hoping it doesn’t take me another 11 months to write up Part 2.
Whilst I already had the kernel of a project idea in mind back in April 2014, I never thought I would end up writing it into an MSCF application for funding. I had sat in workshops on such things, and the consensus seemed to be that the MSCFs were not the most straightforward of documents to put together. I wasn’t keen. Yet my post-doc funding was rapidly running out! Needs must and the bottom line was, doing science costs money. In the following month or so, I made contact with Professors I hoped to work with and a broad project plan started to emerge.
Checking back through my records, the first draft application saved in a MSCF template is dated May 11th 2014. I was actually fortunate to visit New York around that time, off the back of a conference in ‘nearby’ Niagara Falls (America is vast). So I got to meet my prospective US-Prof, get some valuable feedback on the project concept, and even sat in on a group meeting. I was also lucky to catch a talk by my prospective EU-Prof in May 2014 at a different conference, this time in Paris. I can’t emphasize how important it is to attend conferences as a young researcher! Though I was keen to involve an additional industrial partner based in Switzerland, during this time the latter was actually considered a ‘Third country’ as a result of their February 2014 referendum “against mass immigration”. Whilst negotiations for them to re-enter the Seventh Framework Programme/Horizon 2020 scheme as a ‘Home country’ were in progress, the EC rules were clear. It proved impossible to include any additional project partner in Switzerland within either the home or return phases (whilst simultaneously keeping one in the USA). (As an aside, this continues to serve as a personal reminder of the potential hidden costs to UK scientific research following the recent Brexit campaign and leave vote [at time of writing, I understand that we are still officially considered a Home country for the current funding call, but there are already reports that the referendum result is having negative effects].)
I wrote the bulk of the proposal on weekends throughout that summer, aside from the last week or so prior to the deadline where I worked on it practically full time (the final push and polish). With a fair amount of back-and-forth between the assembled (and fortunately for me, willing!) project members, as well as feedback from as many people I could pin down to read the thing, my application documents finally got submitted on Sept 9th 2014. The waiting game had begun.
I did my best to wait proactively, rather than passively. Though I didn’t put in any serious work on any other funding applications, we had around this time just obtained the first clutch of interesting lab results which would ultimately lead to the publication of my best paper to date. This kept me busy. It was somewhat comforting that I was one of several post docs who had applied for a MSCF around my Department, so every time one of us would be passing the others’ office they’d poke their head in and ask if the other had heard anything. Then, finally, on February 4th 2015 I received a rather cryptic email from the EC, simply asking me to “access an important request for providing additional data necessary to prepare your grant agreement”. After frantic discussions with others as to what that actually meant, I was eventually convinced it meant my proposal had been successful. Boy do they work to scramble that message!
So after almost 7 years working in the same city and institution, I was moving on. But when? I still had several projects to finish, serve notice on my London room, book the flights, open bank accounts, find new accommodation… The middle of September became our target start date, but this ultimately got pushed back a little to October 1st 2015.
Paperwork wise, there was still a lot to do. Legal agreements between all parties needed to be drawn up, and various contracts had to be signed (in both English and French!). I cannot thank enough the various administrators who not only sorted all of this out, but also calmly answered every one of my often panicked queries. It is also an interesting thing to fill out US VISA paperwork as a chemist. Alongside the ‘usual’ series of questions such as “Have you ever been a member of a vigilante unit – Yes/No”, you have to answer (truthfully) that yes, whilst you do have considerable “chemical experience”, you have no – really no – plans to use this for evil, and it does not make you a national security threat! Despite checking and double checking every aspect of my VISA application (there really are some very specific photograph requirements), I was nervous about the associated interview at the US Embassy. Following some ‘helpful suggestions’ online, I even printed out family photographs in case I needed to convince anyone of my firm intention to return to the UK after the VISA expired! It turns out I had nothing to worry about, and the official took my passport to keep for processing. By this point, we were rapidly approaching the start date and I hadn’t even booked my flights. I took a chance and bought tickets despite not yet having my passport back. Luckily my documents arrived just a few days later.
The last six months in the UK were hectic, but enjoyable. I needed to push the research and deal with the logistics of moving, but also spend time with those close to me, knowing there would soon quite literally be an ocean between us. So whilst working to submit 3 papers, I broke my finger playing paintball, hiked in the Cairngorms and had a blast at Reading Festival. I emptied my room selling items on Gumtree, pawning things off on friends, family or charity shops, and sent a ∼1.5 m³ pile of books, household items and my electric guitar ahead of me via sea freight. I hurriedly booked NYC accommodation for my first month whilst cooking a pizza late one night.
My last weeks in the UK were filled with leaving drinks, goodbye parties and coffee hours at ever increasing frequencies. It was awesome, but somewhat saddening to think how many good friends and loving family I was leaving behind for those bright lights and streets paved with gold. Lab work and leaving preparations continued almost up to the point I stepped on the plane. I was still running columns in the lab until the week before, and remember thinking that I was crazy to be doing so. I didn’t have to imagine what my colleagues thought, they told me to my face! Somewhat frustratingly, even my very last day was spent photocopying lab books and transferring data – I vowed to be better organized in the future. A final clear out of 7 years’ worth of journal articles, chemical catalogues and notes from the old group office later got me in trouble with the Chief Services Technician for creating a fire hazard.
In the departure lounge at Heathrow I cancelled my UK mobile phone contract, changed UK bank account mailing addresses to that of my mother’s house, and tried to set up a couple of NYC apartment viewings via SpareRoom. Eight hours later I emerged, sleepily, from the terminal building at JFK to jump in my first Yellow Cab to Manhattan as a freshly minted J-1 Research Scholar. Good bye Old Smokey, hello Big Apple. What do you have in store?