34 milliseconds.

According to this online test, my brain takes 34 milliseconds to process auditory information. The web site that hosts the test provides a number of products that are designed to train the brain to process the data quicker and thereby keep the mind “young.” Regardless of the validity or relevance of the test, the idea of exercising the brain to maintain mental acuity is quite important.

I enjoy giving my brain puzzles to solve, particularly ones of a mathematical nature. In the most recent Echoes, there are several puzzles in the Bailey Challenge. I went about solving them. In order to do that, I had to dust off some knowledge that I hadn’t used in many years; algebra is not used much in my day job. After some thinking and some calculating, I came to answers for both the main problem and the “bonus” problem: 40 and $108.125, respectively. Well, that’s not quite true.

I couldn’t get the solution for the main problem to work out to an integer. What I did get was 39.8125, which is about 0.5% away from 40. Having seen far larger discrepancies passed off in my engineering courses as falling within “acceptable” ranges, I think that 40 must be as correct as the answer can get.

Or maybe my brain is getting old, and I completely whiffed on the problem.

Remember Mr. Yuck? He celebrates his 35th birthday this week. Sadly, he is gone in Minnesota.

I attended a fascinating presentation by Steve Setzer of the Minnesota Poison Control System today. He talked about all manner of things by way of numerous case studies, creative photos, and a captivating presentation manner of speech. Some of the gems:

• Consumption of lethal amounts of acetaminophen (Tylenol) will not produce significant symptoms for 24 hours, but the antidote must be administered within 8 hours of ingestion. This is apparently a huge problem because so many things contain acetaminophen.
• Hydrocarbons such as lamp oil are not very toxic; for example, one may drink a cup of lamp oil and experience only laxative effects. The problem, apparently, is if even a drop or two enters the lungs. If that happens, the drop spreads like oil on water and causes chemical pneumonia, which can be quite dangerous.
• The cobra antivenin closest to Minneapolis is in Milwaukee. Bad news for the idiot who tried to build a tolerance for cobra venom by provoking a cobra to bite him.
• Consumption of methanol (e.g., windshield washer fluid) or ethylene glycol (e.g., antifreeze) is extremely dangerous. The standard antidote is a drug called Fomepizole, which is great, except it runs about $1000 a dose. The cheaper antidote? Ethanol. So kids, if you accidentally ingest antifreeze or windshield washer fluid, start drinking Everclear.
• Ibuprofen and acetaminophen are both extremely toxic to cats. Do not use this information when the neighbor’s cat gets annoying.
• Syrup of Ipecac should not be used after a suspected poisoning. The potential side effects greatly outnumber the possible (minimal) benefits. The poison control center recommends that supplies of Ipecac be destroyed. Ironically, child care providers in Minnesota are still compelled by law to maintain a stock of Ipecac.

How does this relate to Mr. Yuck? Well, budgetary constraints mean that he’s gone. Apparently, the economies of scale are such that it wasn’t cost effective to continue printing Mr. Yuck stickers for Minnesota. It would seem that Mr. Yuck got a taste of his own poison.

London, Part 6 (the thrilling conclusion)

Eventually, I came to discover that the “authentically Cambridge experience” would be something called “formal hall.” Of course, I had no idea what that was, but the event got more intriguing the more I learned.

To start with, we went to a wine store to pick up a couple of bottles. The “formal hall” was a dinner, but according to Justin, the included wine is not very good, so everybody just brings their own. Made sense. But wine instead of something like beer?

Well, it turns out that the dinner was actually a multi-course affair, replete with servers and lots of forks. A pub lunch, it was not. Yes, quite formal.

The word “formal” really means “formal.” Everybody at the dinner was dressed up. The men wore suits, the women wore dresses, and gowns for everybody (similar to those seen at American graduations, but of a higher quality) were de rigueur. But what sort of people would wear such things to dinner?

The students, it would seem. About 100 of them. Before the meal, Justin described the event as something out of a Harry Potter movie. I must admit, there were striking similarities.

The event bore a resemblance to a certain scene from the movie. All of the students were seated at two long tables, 50 at each. The tables were within a large room with high ceilings, ornate woodwork, and multiple stately paintings. The event was lit not but by candlelight.

I learned these things bit by bit as the time for the dinner drew near, and yet when I entered the hall and the dinner began, I was still wholly unprepared. Everything seemed at once formal and casual, medieval and modern. The first course was goat cheese with crispy pancetta and roasted bell peppers. The main course was roast topside of beef with chateau potatoes and leek mornay. Dessert was slightly less exotic: baked Alaska. The food was by far the best I had in Britain. In fact, it was good — full stop. And oh, how the wine flowed!

It turns out that many of the students use the dinner as an excuse for getting sozzled. I learned a new game, pennying, which was a sport of gratuitous imbibing. Still, even as we quaffed libations, the dinner maintained an air of polished refinement. Good manners prevailed, and people remained cultured in their actions even as the volume rose.

I fear that I’ve made the experience sound stuck-up; that was hardly the case. It was really a jovial time. Justin pointed out, quite astutely, that nobody would attend the formal halls if they were stiff and somber.

You know what it was? It was a bunch of kids who got dressed up and participated in a grown-up activity without forgetting their youthful outlook on life.

From the dinner, we proceeded to a pub, The Anchor, with a group of Justin’s friends. The ale flowed (at room temperature!), the fire in the hearth crackled, and the conversation buzzed.

It was a fun night.



It was a fun trip.

London, Part 5

“Justin!” “Jeff!” and a hearty handshake broke forth. Justin is a good friend of mine from high school. He’s a history graduate student at the University of Cambridge. I had mentioned that I would be in England, so he offered to give me an insider’s look at Cambridge.

Cambridge, the university at least, has been around since the 13th century. It is split into a number of colleges, each of which have their own buildings and faculty. Interestingly, the university itself is public, but most (all?) of the colleges are private.

Justin pointed out the myriad old buildings on the way to his apartment. When in a town such as Cambridge, where everything is so old, it is difficult to maintain perspective: a “new” building might be 200 years old. Still, the university is not just medieval stone chapels; a number of modern buildings dot the land as well.

While talking with me prior to my trip, Justin offered to show me an “authentically Cambridge experience.” I knew that it would involve food and other students at the university, but I was expecting something like a large gathering at a pub. The reality couldn’t have been more different.

London, Part 4

Harrods (no apostrophe) department store really belongs in Vegas, not London. The exterior is covered in thousands of lights. The opulence of the interior rivals that of the finest casinos. Seemingly everything is available in Harrods.

Want to get some perfume? No problem. How about a bicycle? Sure. A polo shirt by Ralph Lauren? Indeed. A car? Yes, as long as you’re satisfied with Fiat. Maybe some food? The endless deli has what you’re looking for. What if you want something right now? Dozens of restaurants fit the bill. Everything is of the highest quality and comes with impeccable service.

Pretty much anything and everything is available in that behemoth building (well, not cricket bats). For comparison, the Mall of America has 2.5 million square feet of sales space; Harrods has 1.0 million.

I indulged in the grandeur by ordering the best ice cream treat ever. Well, okay, maybe it was merely satisfactory, but for £12 (~$21), I’m going to remember it as fantastic, dammit. Fortunately, that one ice cream sundae filled me up for the evening, thereby allowing me to avoid other British cooking.

The next morning found me at the Science Museum in London, where I visited a working version of Babbage’s difference engine.

The difference engine was the first mechanical computer. It was designed to calculate answers to polynomial equations. Even though there is no direct link between Babbage’s work and modern digital computers, the design of the difference engine and its cousin, the analytical engine, was a seminal point in the history of computing machines.

After staring in wonder at the large machine and other “ancient” technology (ever seen a delay line memory module?), I hurried to King’s Cross Station to catch a train to Cambridge.

The Cambridge Cruiser, an express from London to Cambridge, was comfortable and quiet. The English countryside rolled by outside my window. Farms stretched to the horizon. It all seemed vaguely familiar, yet none of it would pass for the American Midwest. The train was fast, and I soon heard the conductor announce our arrival at Cambridge Station. Waiting on the platform was an old friend.