Vacuum bazookas but no custard firebombs

This weekend we went to Cambridge to stay with my wonderful friend Highwaylass and to visit the University of Cambridge Science Festival.

Something I will never understand is that there are people who aren't interested in science. It's a tradition with my son and me that he stays up on Monday nights to watch Bang Goes the Theory and we love science programmes in general. The Cambridge Science fair was a brilliant opportunity to see some hands-on science (and lots of explosions).

In the morning we did the traditional tour of town looking at the colleges through their railings and refusing to pay to be punted down the Cam.










Then in the afternoon we left the dreaming spires (yes, I know that's Arnold on Oxford) and went to the impressively hi-tech laboratories at the Cavendish.

Our first lecture was called Vacuum Bazookas and Custard Powder bombs and was about the properties of air. The vacuum cleaner bazooka / machine gun was great fun. There was also the opportunity to look at how gases behave in liquid nitrogen and a hot air balloon made via a toaster. The finale was not the custard bomb but instead liquid nitrogen lobbed in a paddling pool with water and washing up liquid to impressive effect.






Vacuum bazooka








Afterwards my son got to make a parachute from a bag & Kinder egg and launch it from a water propelled rocket.

















Other events involved learning to laser scan and looking at a raspberry Pi.







The highlight for my son was being picked in a lecture on the properties of light to be a demonstrator




On the Sunday we continued a family tradition and completed our fourth Sport Relief mile together. I'm so touched by the generosity of family and friends.











On the way home we visited the lopsided but beautiful Ely cathedral




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Whilst the mouse is away

This weekend my son is at a Cub Viking boat burning festival and visiting his Dad. This gave me the time to spend some time being a grown up. Or as close to being a grown up as I am able to approximate. I've been in London seeing a band you've probably never heard of unless you have spent a fair amount of time with me. If you have spent a fair amount of time with me since 1994 you will unquestionably have heard of the mighty My Life Story.

On arriving in London we went to the Embankment and, true to my English teacher soul, headed straight to the Globe theatre to hit the gift shop for Shakespeare oriented gifts to fail to entertain children with.




After that we went to Tate Modern and both scoffed at and enjoyed the works in equal measure. I was amused by one work which gave a very accurate astrological reading for me as a Virgo.












Then it was off to the gig to see My Life Story. In a lot of ways I over identify with My Life Story. For starters, I named myself after them on Twitter. In general, the lyrics of every song seem to have something to say to me about my life (yes, I know that's a Smiths quote) and finally I've been travelling Britain to watch them since 1994. I've seen them so many times I can't remember where and when. I've driven from
York to London through snow that Good King Wenceslas would baulk at to spend New Year's Eve with them. There is only one photo of me with a bloke in my living room and it's of me with the lead singer, Jake Shillingford. Suffice to say my love of this band would be dangerous were I not a well balanced human being.







Now I have a terrible confession. Today was the first time I ever went into the British Museum. This is a failing that I can barely comprehend. For somebody who loves history the way I do the fact I could have lived in the same country as the Rosetta stone for upwards of 40 years and never seen it is utterly incomprehensible. The museum is so utterly breathtaking that I honestly was overcome and borderline tearful on a number of occasions. I cannot wait to return to London with my son and show him its treasures.























The Rosetta stone







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