Most of the time I'm happy with my position in the university. I get an insight into the breadth of research and teaching, I get to talk to people from archaeology to zoology, from undergraduate to senior management. I get to explore all the nooks and crannies of the place (and if you've ever tried to wander from one end of the Faculty of Arts to the other you'll know that there are a lot of nooks).
But every now and then I feel a twinge of jealousy that I'm no longer an academic. It's not that I miss the long hours in the lab, nor the feeling of frustration when yet another experiment goes wrong or another hypothesis of mine proves to be incorrect. I don't even really miss believing that, as a researcher, you might be a world expert on this minuscule area of knowledge (although it was a comforting thought). No, I just have a bad case of academic office envy.
Despite the range of research areas, not to mention personalities, academic offices share many of the same features. Firstly, there are the bookcases; piled floor to ceiling with books, these invariably take up at least a wall, and often more. And rather than the glossy new bestsellers in a book store, these all look well loved and well thumbed. You could spend a whole afternoon here, slowly browsing the titles and breathing in the heady, nutmeg smell of old paper. Then there's the mismatched furniture - antique tables jostling for space with what passed for office furniture in the 1970s. Armchairs with an impressive range of colours and degrees of comfort. And finally, to truly stamp the inhabitant's character on the room, a range of items lying around or artfully arranged on the wall. It could be a set of guitars, antique glass bottles or tiny replicas of medieval farming equipment. It could even be an extensive collection of teas or a bowl that is always full of chocolate for the casual visitor*.
All of these imbue the offices with an ambience that reflects each academic's personality. I have no idea what my academic office would look like, apart from the knowledge that tidiness would not be a feature. I don't know how I would fill it with books related to my expertise, or even what my expertise would be nowadays. But I do know that every time I go into an academic office I am struck by the same thought: I want one of those.
* These are all genuine example from offices here.
Thursday, 6 June 2013
Tuesday, 4 June 2013
Research Encounter #9: David Glowacki
I first came across Dr David Glowacki, from the School of Chemistry, in my EPSRC days where he was one of the last recipients of my Partnerships for Public Engagement Award scheme (before its untimely demise). Since then his awesome danceroom Spectroscopy project has been a phenomenal success, but he still finds time to occasionally do some research.
It’s often said that nature is a non-equilibrium system. By a non-equilibrium system we mean one that is moving and dynamic – if the sea was in equilibrium, it would be a placid pool; if the atmosphere was in equilibrium, there’d be no wind. And if we were in equilibrium we’d be dead – our equilibrium state is a puddle of chemicals on the floor. A fundamental characteristic of a non-equilibrium system is the transfer of energy, how it is transported and where it goes. David looks at how mechanisms of energy transfer at the level of molecules and atoms can shed light on how nature behaves. By studying these mechanisms it is possible to create predictive models for a large number of reactions in nature; this knowledge can then be used to design and build new materials that can help us address current challenges such as pollution, energy production and the environment.
It’s often said that nature is a non-equilibrium system. By a non-equilibrium system we mean one that is moving and dynamic – if the sea was in equilibrium, it would be a placid pool; if the atmosphere was in equilibrium, there’d be no wind. And if we were in equilibrium we’d be dead – our equilibrium state is a puddle of chemicals on the floor. A fundamental characteristic of a non-equilibrium system is the transfer of energy, how it is transported and where it goes. David looks at how mechanisms of energy transfer at the level of molecules and atoms can shed light on how nature behaves. By studying these mechanisms it is possible to create predictive models for a large number of reactions in nature; this knowledge can then be used to design and build new materials that can help us address current challenges such as pollution, energy production and the environment.
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