The Royal Society of Chemistry

Hello and welcome! or welcome back! If your wondering what this is all about click here!
Things have been progressing rapidly! There have been several recent developments which have been all rather exciting!

The first of these was attending a lecture at the Royal Society of Chemistry. With the meeting starting at eleven o’clock, peak time train fares being extortionately priced and myself travelling from Gloucestershire it was a race against time to make sure I was not late.

I found myself in Paddington station at 10.37 giving me about twenty minutes to get across London to Burlington House on Piccadilly. Striding briskly into the underground I took the Bakerloo line to Piccadilly Circus which google maps had informed me the Royal Society of Chemistry was situated almost directly above.

I arrived in Piccadilly Circus with about three minutes to spare. It would be tight, but I would just about make it. I strode out of the underground, crossed the street, rounded a corner and was confronted with … an HMV. Unless the RSC was using HMV as a front organisation then that meant only one thing.

I was in the wrong place.

Dash and blast! I remembered from my research that the Royal Society of Geography was also in a Burlington house and that this was quite probably the same one. With time slipping rapidly away I hopped onto the underground and took it one stop to Green Park because that was where I had directions from and made my way up Piccadilly. Burlington house is a very large and impressive building and difficult to miss. It also had a large banner with “The Royal Society of Chemistry” emblazoned upon it, which was rather comforting.

I strode in, past the queue of visitors for an exhibition on Van Gough in the Royal Academy of Arts and into the Royal Society of Chemistry.


I signed in with the receptionist who had the most extraordinarily perfect, cut glass, English accent.

“The meeting is just through there. There’s a cloak room for you to leave your hat and coat.”

A place to leave my hat? Excellent.

I left my hat and coat, pulled myself together, and half an hour later than planned, I stepped into the Fish room. A young, tall woman with dark hair was explaining an incredibly complex diagram displayed on the largest flat screen TV I have ever seen. I slipped myself into a seat at the back and tried to look knowledgeable, or at least, like I had a vague idea of what was going on.

The whole meeting was on radiochemistry. This particular aspect was using radioactive isotopes to understand how a certain compound controlled a certain biological pathway. I didn’t understand it all, but from what I did it seemed rather clever.

There were talks on a variety of topics including using bacteria in dealing with contaminated land in Sellafield, a UK nuclear site, what happens to the uranium used in depleted uranium munitions, (after they’ve been fired), and analysing and regulating radioactive gas. It all sounds a little bit scary but the fact that people are, some would say at last, conducting research into this kind of thing can only be a good thing. After an excellent lunch, (in which I met up with the delightful Miss Logan, my girlfriend, who had been researching ancient Arcadian cylinders in the British Museum), there were some more talks, the prize ultimately being awarded to a young lady working on the mobility of Strontium in contaminated ground water.
And with that my visit to the Royal Society of Chemistry was concluded.

There's quite a bit coming up in the next few weeks, after leaving the Royal Society of Chemistry myself and Miss Logan uncovered a mystery in that iconic purveyor of gentleman's accessories Fortnum and Mason. There is also a new edition of "Rate My Hat!" coming up soon.

Plus upon returning to Durham I found a rather interesting letter, addressed to myself, bearing the Royal seal... Stay Tuned!

"Rate My Hat!" Round two- Mayser vs Conte of Florence

It's back!

Rate my hat two - Swiss edition!

I haven't been able to find out the names of these two hats, only the companies that make them, so there will be PRIZES for anyone who can prove they know the names of these two hats!

Up first the Conte of Florence-
















Second, the Mayser-

















Go ahead and RATE MY HAT!

Snowdon - part 3

The path was climbing steadily to the ridge that would lead us to the peak and with it the wind and rain were, somehow, intensifying further still.

"Guys, this is getting stupid" said Mr Munns.
"Yes! We know!" I replied cackling in a manner that must have been slightly disconcerting.
"No, this is getting really stupid, as in dangerous. I think we should turn back."
You know The fellowship of the ring? Where Gandalf is trying to lead them across the mountain? It was like that. Only minus the battling wizards. And with the addition of bowler hats. And so, like Gandalf, I cried
"No!"
And we tried to struggle on against the elements.We made it only a few metres further before a huge gust of wind caught the Union Jack held in Mr Munns back pack and pulled him off balance I managed to grab him and pull him back onto the path.
"I am not happy guys!" cried Mr Munns,
"We're so close! We must be near the top now!" I replied.
"This is actually dangerous! We need to turn back!"
"You know in stories where the heroes encounter moment of where all appears to be lost? This is that moment!"
Mr Munns paused.
"Damn you!"
We turned to carry on when out of the mists appeared a figure. Dim at first the coming into view. It was a man dressed in full Arctic gear. He was clad in full waterproofing, his head clad in a mountaineering helmet and in his hand he held the pole and curved blade of an ice axe. This man was ready for anything. Apart from sunshine.
"How far are we from the top now?" asked Mr Munns.
The man turned to answer, slipped on the rain soaked rocks, regained his balance before replying.
"Your not far now. Thirty minutes to the top I'd say."
Thirty minutes! We could do that! Sure the conditions were atrocious, the wind blowing harder than ever and the snow obscuring the pathway, but that was within the realms of possibility!
"What's the weather like up there?" asked Mr Munns.
The man in the Arctic gear thought for a second.
"The wind is bad. Not quite blowing you off your feet but close."
"Worse than here?" I asked.
"Yes."
Ah.
"The snow?" I asked.
"It gets a lot worse than here."
Oh.
"So what do you reckon?"
The man paused before replying, it was as if he was aware of the dramatic tension he was providing. Finally he said
"It's pretty bad."

Now you have to bear in mind that this is coming from a man who is dressed for surviving an ice age. A man like this probably has a different definition of "pretty bad" to you or I.

Mr Munns turned to me.
"We should take tea here then head back."

I had to agree with him. Whilst Scott of the Antarctic is one of the most legendary heroes in British history he is also dead. I can't say I fancied joining him.

We dashed into the shelter of a huge rock. Pulled the teapot from the rucksack and hurriedly searched for the tea. Mr Bridges attempted to light his gas stove but to no avail. We threw two tea bags into the pot followed swiftly by the thermos of hot water that was substantially cooler than it had been to start with. Decorum was thrown to the (still raging) wind as we shook the tea pot roughly to speed up the brewing. Milk was grabbed and tea was drunk.

The tea was good. The warmth of it made it apparent just how cold we had become. We drank it quickly. It was now the plan to get of this mountain as fast as possible.

But Mr Booker had a surprise in store for us
"I had hoped to read this on the top, but this will have to do."
And from his pockets he pulled a sodden copy of the soliloquy from Hamlet from his pocket and started to read.
"To be, or not to be, that is the question. Whether it is..."
The rain was hammering down on the paper and the ink was running everywhere.
"...or to take arms against a sea of troubles..."
The wind was now ripping chunks out of the paper and sucking away off the mountain.
"Erm... odds, bodkins..."
The paper now disintegrated in his hands and vanished off on the wind. He turned to us
"I bid you adieu!"
And with that he headed off down the mountain.


It was a moment I will always treasure.

And with that we headed off down the mountain. I have to admit I was in a dark mood. Yes tea had been taken on snowdon. But not as I had planned at all. It was not from a china set, it was not at the top, there had been no cake, Earl Grey had been sacrificed for a stronger Assam.

It crossed my mind to claim that the photo you saw was of us on the top and the china tea set was out of view. But then you would not be a sponsoring gentleman adventurer you would be sponsoring a gentleman poser, a gentleman fraud, a charlatan. And that I am not.

The truth is that whilst this could be argued to be a success, it was also in part a failure. As we reached the standing stone that indicated the miners track I vowed that I would return! I made my way down the mountain. How was I going to explain this to the BBC? to the Queen? to you? How could I hope to join the ranks of Sir Everard im Thurn?

Hold on.

Something stirred in my mind. Sir Everard im Thurn! He had had to make two attempts on Mt Roraima! I remembered it from his account to the Royal Geographical society in 1885! And it was at this point that I underwent a little bit of what writers call "character development". It's not that adventurers don't encounter failure. They do! It's how they respond to it that makes them adventurers!

So, Snowden may have won/drawn the first round. But I will be back!

I vowed to get the top hat back, and I did, now I vow to return, to take the tea properly!

Yours sincerely,

Alistair Linsell- Gentleman Adventurer!

No updates for a week as I'm off skiing! Though soon after we shall see how I get by with challenge two at the Royal Society Of Chemistry!