It being A-level results day, I thought I’d try a little experiment and use this blog to broadcast an unofficial announcement that, owing to additional government funding for high-achieving subjects, the School of Physics and Astronomy at Cardiff University is able to offer extra places on all undergraduate courses starting this September for suitably qualified students.
An institutional review of intake numbers by HEFCW (Higher Education Funding Council for Wales) resulted in the award of extra funded places for undergraduate entry in 2012. Of particular benefit are those STEM (science, technology, engineering and mathematics) subjects seen as strategically important by the UK government. Therefore, the School of Physics and Astronomy is pleased to announce acceptance of late UCAS applications from those candidates expected to achieve our entrance requirements.
Those current applicants who have already applied through the standard UCAS procedure and who have been offered places need not be concerned as these new places are IN ADDITION to those we were expecting to fill.
Applications can be made through Clearing on UCAS after discussions with the Admissions Team.
Course codes (for information)
BSc Physics (F300) and BSc Astrophysics (F511)
MPhys Physics (F303) and MPhys Astrophysics (F510)
BSc Physics with professional placement (F302)
BSc Theoretical and Computational Physics (F340)
BSc Physics with Medical Physics (F350)
Course enquiries can be made to Dr Carole Tucker, Undergraduate Admissions Tutor, via email to Physics-ug@cardiff.ac.uk or call the admissions teams on 029 2087 4144 / 6457.
Today I’m taking a flight back from Copenhagen to London, a flight through a very small part of the Universe, so it seems apt to put it in perspective by posting this nice video produced on behalf of the the Sloan Digital Sky Survey. I’ve even had the nerve to copy the blurb:
This animated flight through the universe was made by Miguel Aragon of Johns Hopkins University with Mark Subbarao of the Adler Planetarium and Alex Szalay of Johns Hopkins. There are close to 400,000 galaxies in the animation, with images of the actual galaxies in these positions (or in some cases their near cousins in type) derived from the Sloan Digital Sky Survey (SDSS) Data Release 7. Vast as this slice of the universe seems, its most distant reach is to redshift 0.1, corresponding to roughly 1.3 billion light years from Earth. SDSS Data Release 9 from the Baryon Oscillation Spectroscopic Survey (BOSS), led by Berkeley Lab scientists, includes spectroscopic data for well over half a million galaxies at redshifts up to 0.8 – roughly 7 billion light years distant – and over a hundred thousand quasars to redshift 3.0 and beyond.
Click here for more information about BOSS and the latest data release.
Just time for a quick (yet still rather tardy) post to direct your attention to an excellent polemical piece by Stephen Curry pointing out the pointlessness of Journal Impact Factors. For those of you in blissful ignorance about the statistical aberration that is the JIF, it’s basically a measure of the average number of citations attracted by a paper published in a given journal. The idea is that if you publish a paper in a journal with a large JIF then it’s in among a number of papers that are highly cited and therefore presumably high quality. Using a form of Proof by Association, your paper must therefore be excellent too, hanging around with tall people being a tried-and-tested way of becoming tall.
I won’t repeat all Stephen Curry’s arguments as to why this is bollocks – read the piece for yourself – but one of the most important is that the distribution of citations per paper is extremely skewed, so the average is dragged upwards by a few papers with huge numbers of citations. As a consequence most papers published in a journal with a large JIF attract many fewer citations than the average. Moreover, modern bibliometric databases make it quite easy to extract citation information for individual papers, which is what is relevant if you’re trying to judge the quality impact of a particular piece of work, so why bother with the JIF at all?
I will however copy the summary, which is to the point:
So consider all that we know of impact factors and think on this: if you use impact factors you are statistically illiterate.
If you include journal impact factors in the list of publications in your cv, you are statistically illiterate.
If you are judging grant or promotion applications and find yourself scanning the applicant’s publications, checking off the impact factors, you are statistically illiterate.
If you publish a journal that trumpets its impact factor in adverts or emails, you are statistically illiterate. (If you trumpet that impact factor to three decimal places, there is little hope for you.)
If you see someone else using impact factors and make no attempt at correction, you connive at statistical illiteracy.
Statistical illiteracy is by no means as rare among scientists as we’d like to think, but at least I can say that I pay no attention whatsoever to Journal Impact Factors. In fact I don’t think many people in in astronomy or astrophysics use them at all. I’d be interested to hear from anyone who does.
I’d like to add a little coda to Stephen Curry’s argument. I’d say that if you publish a paper in a journal with a large JIF (e.g. Nature) but the paper turns out to attract very few citations then the paper should be penalised in a bibliometric analysis, rather like the handicap system used in horse racing or golf. If, despite the press hype and other tedious trumpetings associated with the publication of a Nature paper, the work still attracts negligible interest then it must really be a stinker and should be rated as such by grant panels, etc. Likewise if you publish a paper in a less impactful journal which nevertheless becomes a citation hit then it should be given extra kudos because it has gained recognition by quality alone.
Of course citation numbers don’t necessarily mean quality. Many excellent papers are slow burners from a bibliometric point of view. However, if a journal markets itself as being a vehicle for papers that are intended to attract large citation counts and a paper published there flops then I think it should attract a black mark. Hoist it on its own petard, as it were.
So I suggest papers be awarded an Impact X-Factor, based on the difference between its citation count and the JIF for the journal. For most papers this will of course be negative, which would serve their authors right for mentioning the Impact Factor in the first place.
PS. I chose the name “X-factor” as in the TV show precisely for its negative connotations.
Well, the Olympics are finally over. I have to say I didn’t see much of the games themselves, although I did catch Mo Farah’s excellent run in the 5000m final and afterwards reminding us all that one can be a great athlete as well as humble and likeable individual. I see that Team GB (and NI) have done remarkably well in landing a haul of 29 gold medals, well up on Beijing 2008.
Many of these were in sports I know nothing about (such as Keirin and Dressage, both of which sound to me like items of IKEA furniture) but I’m perfectly happy to accept that winning any Olympic Gold medal is a remarkable achievement and requires not just talent but dedication and hard work. I hope the success of Team GB inspires others with the thought that succeeding in doing what’s difficult can be rewarding in itself, whether or not it leads to personal wealth.
I have just a couple more days here in Copenhagen, where the weather has been lovely throughout my visit. Here’s a gratuitous picture of one of the city’s lovely parks in the sunshine:
I’m feeling a lot better for having been here for the last week or so. The people here have been so very kind and understanding. I have to admit, though, I’m a bit nervous about going back because: (a) I have more medical tests to go through before I start on a proper programme; (b) quite a big backlog has built up of things I have to do; and (c) I have to face the colleagues and students I’ve let down so badly over the last few weeks and try to find a way of making up for my dereliction of duty.
The next big thing when I get back to work will be admissions. On Thursday (16th August) the A-level examination results will be officially announced and the clearing system opens for business. Only then will we find out how many students we’ll have entering the first year in October. We think things have gone pretty well on the recruitment front, but you never know until you see the final numbers. Fingers crossed.
Anyway, with the results having been published, there’ll no doubt be the usual discussion in the newspapers about whether the Olympic Games were easier this year than they were in our day….
It being a lovely day in Copenhagen yesterday I decided to go for a long walk. My destination was the famous Assistens Kirkegård which is in the Nørrebro district of the city. You might think that was a rather morbid choice of place to go for a stroll in the sunshine, but actually it’s not that way at all. It’s actually a rather beautiful place, a very large green space criss-crossed by tree-lined paths. We British have a much more reserved attitude to cemeteries than the Danes seem to have, at least judging by yesterday; joggers and cyclists pass through Assistens Cemetery at regular intervals, and many people were having picnics or just sunbathing between the gravestones. And of course there were many tourists wandering around, myself included. I found this matter-of-fact attitude to the dead rather refreshing, actually.
Incidentally, I was also surprised to see a number of Jewish burials among the Christian ones. I don’t know if this happens in British graveyards.
Part of the attraction of Assistens Kirkegård – the name derives from the fact that it was originally an auxiliary burial place, outside the main city, designed to take some of the pressure off the smaller cemeteries in the inner areas – is the large number of famous people buried there. The cemetery is extremely large (about 25 hectares), and the maps don’t show the locations of all the famous people laid to rest there, but I did find quite a few.
Here for example is the memorial to one of the most famous Danes of all, Hans Christian Andersen
Going by the number of signposts pointing to it, this must be one of the most popular sites for visitors to the cemetery, along with the grave of the philosopher Søren Kierkegaard. One can also quite easily locate the memorial which marks the last resting place of Niels Bohr and various other members of his family:
But it’s not only Danes that are buried here. There’s a corner of one plot occupied by a number of famous American Jazz musicians, including pianist Kenny Drew and, most famously of all, tenor saxophonist Ben Webster whose gravestone is rather small, but clearly very well tended, no doubt by a Danish jazz lover:
Unfortunately, I was unable to locate one of the graves I wanted to find, that of the great HeldentenorLauritz Melchior. I was surprised to find his name was absent from the main index. I know he was cremated and his ashes buried there, and I even found a picture of his memorial on the net, but the cemetery is so large that without further clues I couldn’t find it. I’ll have to go back on a subsequent visit after doing a bit more research.
It’s very interesting that some of the smaller graves are extremely well-tended whereas many of the more opulent memorials are in a state of disrepair. My ambition is to be forgotten as quickly as possible after my death so the idea of anyone erecting some grandiose marble monument on my behalf fills me with horror, but I have to say I do find graveyards are strangely comforting places. Rich and poor, clever and stupid, ugly and beautiful; death comes to us all in the end. At least it’s very democratic.
And after about three hours strolling around in the cool shade of the trees in Assistens Kirkegård the thought did cross my mind there still seems to be plenty of room…
An early morning walk around Copenhagen this morning reminded me of a longer visit I made here about 25 years ago, during which I rented a room in a nice large apartment on Frederiksberg Allé, which is in a rather posh part of the city called Frederiskberg. The landlord, who also lived on the premises, was a Mr Vagn Jul Pedersen, a nice old man who had lived in that part of the city all his life. One evening we sat talking over a beer or two and he told me of a terrible thing that he had seen during the latter stages of the Second World War when he was a young man, and I thought some of you might be interested to learn about it.
In March 1945, the British decided to carry out a low-level bombing attack on a target in Copenhagen, which was under German occupation at the time. The mission was given the codename Operation Carthage and its primary objective was the Shellhus (“Shell House”) originally owned by the oil company, but commandeered by the Nazis for wartime use as the Gestapo headquarters. The request to bomb the Shellhus came from the Danish Resistance, despite the fact that it was known that the top floor of the building was being used to house Danish prisoners as a kind of human shield.
I have based the following on a post I found elsewhere on the net. You can also read the official RAF account here.
By the end of 1944 the Danish resistance movement in Copenhagen was in danger of being wiped out by the Geheime Staatspolizei (Gestapo). Many of their leaders were arrested and a lot of material was filed in the Gestapo archives in the Shell house. Leading members of the resistance-movement requested an attack by air on the Shell House via the Special Operations Executive (SOE) in London.
Eventually on 21 March 1945, 20 de Havilland Mosquito fighter-bombers from 2nd TAF escorted by 28 Mustang Mk. III fighters from 11 Group took off from RAF Fersfield in Norfolk, England. 18 of the Mosquito bombers were F.B. Mk. VIs and 2 were Mosquito B. Mk. IVs from the Photographic Reconnaissance Unit (PRU). The Mosquito force attacked in 3 waves: 1st wave with 7 Mosquitoes (one PRU); the 2nd wave with 6 Mosquitoes; and finally the 3rd wave with 7 Mosquitoes (one PRU). The primary objective for the Mustangs was to engage, distract, suppress and, if possible, destroy anti-aircraft “Flak” batteries concentrated in central Copenhagen.
The first wave approached their target from the South West but, as they passed Enghave Station, which is near the famous Carlsberg brewery, Mosquito SZ 977, with Pilot W/Cdr. Peter A Kleboe and Navigator F/O K Hall, struck a 30 metre lamppost or pylon; the wingtip of the Mosquito then hit the roof of No 106 Sonder Boulevard. The two 500lb bombs carried by the aircraft ripped off and exploded, killing twelve civilians. Flying at roof-top level over a densely populated area it was inevitable that there would be casualties if a plane crashed or were shot down, but the Fates that day were in an especially cruel mood and far worse was to follow.
The stricken Mosquito “T for Tommy” crashed seconds later in a garage near the Jeanne d`Arc French Catholic school on Frederiksbergs Allé. The front part with the cockpit with the two crew members landed on Dr. Priemesvej; they were badly burned and later died of their injuries. Pilot W/C Peter A. Kleboe and Navigator F/O Reginald J.W. Hall were laid to rest in Bispebjerg Cemetery on 28 March 1945.
The rest of the first wave found and bombed the Gestapo Headquarters successfully. In all six bombs exploded in the Western wing and, of the nine prisoners in this part of the building, six were killed instantly and another died when jumping from the 5th floor to the ground.
But the tragedy that had begun to unfold at Frederiksberg Allé was about to get even darker. The 2nd wave of Mosquitoes became confused by the smoke and flames from the crashed Mosquito and thought it must be their target. Two of the Mosquitoes in the 2nd wave dropped their bombs on the French school and only one proceeded to bomb the Shell House. The 3rd wave approached Copenhagen from the West, and again became confused. All but one of the Mosquitoes dropped their bombs by mistake on the French Jeanne d`Arc Catholic School killing 86 children and 16 adults out of 482 children and adults, while 67 children and 35 adults were wounded.
This is the site of the modern Shell House, the original being completely destroyed during Operation Carthage. It’s quite easy to find, on the North side of Kampmannsgade, just to the East of Sankt Jørgens Sø, between Nyropsgade and Vester Farimagsgade. It’s actually quite close to the splendid modern Tycho Brahe Planetarium.
Inside the doorway at the far right of this building as seen in the above view is the following inscription, giving the names of the Danish resistance members who died that day
You can see here below a map showing the location. Enghave Station is to the South-West, the natural direction from which the incoming planes would have come. The Mosquito “T for Tommy” must have veered North, i.e. to its left, after its collision with the pylon in order to have crashed where it did.
Reading about this terrible episode, I was at first surprised that so many pilots misidentified the target, especially since the correct one is so close to Sankt Jørgens Sø, a prominent expanse of water that makes up one of a string of shallow lakes that extend along most of the Western side of Copenhagen’s city centre, which one would have thought was easily identifiable by its absence at the French School. The pilots had, after all, been shown detailed models of the location before the raid. But then I’m sitting at a desk with a map in front of me, not screaming along at 400mph, over rooftops bristling with anti-aircraft guns, into the teeth of withering Flak fire.
I walked the distance from the Jeanne D’arc School to the Shell House and I reckon it’s not much further than 1km, perhaps less as the Mosquito flies. That’s just seconds at the speed the planes would have been flying. That, together with the general confusion of smoke, gunfire and fear, could easily account for the navigational errors.
Owing to the presence of planes from the RAF photographic unit, there is remarkable film footage shot during the actual raid, some of which can be seen in the following film. It’s interesting how little Copenhagen’s skyline has changed; much of the city is immediately recognizable. There is also some very moving eye-witness testimony.
Even to a non-expert like me this was clearly an extremely dangerous mission. Mr Pedersen told me he saw Mosquitoes flying between the houses, along some of Copenhagen’s admittedly very wide roads, below the level of the rooftops; presumably the anti-aircraft guns were unable to aim downwards. A total of 4 Mosquitoes and 2 Mustangs were lost to flak with 9 crewmen KIA and 1 POW. Incidentally, one of the two Mustangs shot down that day crashed in Fælledparken, the park just behind the Niels Bohr Institute.
Mounted on the wall of the present Shell House is a bronze cast of a propeller from one of the downed Mosquitoes. A plaque is placed below the propeller with the names of the 9 crew members who were killed in the attack.
A total of 133 Danes died during and after the raid, including 86 children and 18 adults (including many nuns, and some bystanders who had tried to help) at the French School. At the Shell House, 8 Gestapo prisoners were killed and 18 managed to escape; 55 German soldiers and 47 Danish employees of the Gestapo died. In those days they hadn’t invented bland phrases like “collateral damage” to disguise the real horror of war, and it wasn’t possible to use unmanned drones as deployed by the US in their covert “war on terror”. Although Operation Carthage did achieve its objective, the loss of innocent life was so appalling it remains difficult to see it as a success.
I remember very well the tears in Mr Pedersen’s eyes when he told me about what had happened at the French School that day; it was only later that he found out what the actual objective of the raid was. At the end he said “You are lucky that you will never have to witness anything like that.” That goes for all of us who have had the good fortune to live in a time of peace. But let’s not forget the other parts of space-time where things are/were very different.
The last few weeks having been a bit chaotic, it’s probably a good idea to mention that I’m currently in the fine city of Copenhagen. This may come as a bit of a surprise to some of you, and it’s a long story how I ended up here at this time. I won’t bore you with the details, except to say I needed to get away for a while and with the help of friends and colleagues here I’m convalescing and trying to get back to doing some research at the Niels Bohr Institute, where I’ve been a visitor on many occasions.
As a matter of fact I’m staying in a very nice part of Copenhagen, called Brumleby, “an enclave of terraced houses” in many ways not dissimilar to Pontcanna, the part of Cardiff where I usually live. Incidentally the -by ending (pronounced “be” in English) which also can be found in many English place names, especially along the East coast, is pronounced more like “bue” in Danish. Footballer Jan Mølby’s name was constantly mispronounced by English commentators…
Brumleby has an interesting history. It was one of a number of social housing developments constructed in the mid-19th century in Copenhagen in response to a cholera outbreak caused by chronic overcrowding and insanitary conditions in the old city. The original name for Brumleby was Lægeforeningens Boliger, which means the “Medical Association’s Buildings” for it was set up by the Danish Medical Association, Den Almindelige Danske Lægeforening. Most of the other similar developments have now been demolished, but Brumleby is now listed and preserved as a conservation area. The apartments are small, but very cosy, and as an added convenience for me only about 5 minutes walk from the Niels Bohr Institute.
Thanks once again for all the kind and concerned emails and other messages I’ve received over the past few days and weeks. I’m definitely on the mend and will start on a `permanent’ programme when I return to Wales. I also apologize yet again to my work colleagues, visitors, students, etc, for being so erratic recently. One day, perhaps, you’ll understand and maybe even forgive.
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