 |
 |
 |
||||||
 |
     Back to the daily grind of lectures. Working on the principle that we probably had no tutorial work this week, Vicki and I decided to get a practical out of the way. We signed up for 'Fluorescence Spectra and Rate of Electron Transfer by Quenching', on the basis that it had the word 'fluorescence' in the title and therefore might involve glowing chemicals (i.e. real chemistry). We found the apparatus in a dusty corner of the lab. The equipment looked to be antique. Some of the chemicals we used did indeed glow slightly, so this kept me happy for a few minutes. The novelty wears off. The experiment initially involved twiddling dials until a pointer reached a maximum. This was achieved without difficulty. After this, we had to use a UV-vis spectrometer, which failed to work (and the lab technician had just left for her lunch break). The Junior Demonstrator was hapless in the extreme. He tried to get another spectrometer to work, but couldn't get the printer to switch on (until we pointed out the 'on/off' switch to him). It turned out that the sample we'd been given to test in the spectrometer was not in fact 'fluorescein', but actually water. This didn't really matter, since the spectrometer refused to talk to the printer and so we just had to get a photocopy of the demonstrator's example spectrum. I, meanwhile, was trying to get the fluorescence spectrometer to talk to the plotter attached to it. I could get it to draw horizontal lines across the paper, but I couldn't get it to feed paper through the plotter to produce a nice spectrum plot. Eventually, after the Junior Demonstrator had given up, the lab technician returned and showed me the small dial hidden on the side of the plotter which hadn't been turned up. I turned it up, and the plotter began vomiting paper at me. Once under control with the paper moving at a steady rate, I realised that the pen would now no longer move horizontally. I fought back tears. As closing time for the lab approached, we finally got everything working and produced a set of lines on the paper. They probably mean something. I no longer care. The general dreadfulness of the afternoon was alleviated by discovery that Mark, who has been complaining that his 'guts ache' all week, actually has something wrong with him, namely Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Cue jokes about it being 'a pain in the arse' (I managed that one accidentally) and other such gems of sympathy. The nurse has given him a box of high-fibre drinks which claim (despite evidence from Mark to the contrary) to be orange flavour. I suspect, from the smell at least, that they are flavoured like an orange that has spent a good few weeks in a chemical factory. The quote of the day came from the BBC 2 continuity announcer, who (whilst introducing a small program on, among other things, constipation) said 'We like to think of you as our regular viewers'. Mark is now becoming paranoid. |
 |
||||||
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
||
|
