Next time we'll go nuclear

The second presenter on the nuclear reactor seminar is a South African guy with an Albert Einstein novelty tie. I wasn't even aware there was such a thing as an Albert Einstein novelty tie, but apparently there are. He wears it with a certain pride.

The video showing the decommissioning of a nuclear reactor is filmed with time lapse photography, to show how quickly the work is progressing. I begin to wonder whether Benny Hill ever filmed anything at 'arwell.

There's a girl (from Cyprus, I think) named Miranda who is hot. Best of a good bunch, as it turns out. After seeing hardly any women since I came to the monastry, it comes as quite a pleasant surprise that there are quite a few women in the nuclear industry. The majority of them nice and friendly, although one or two were short and moustached and ignorant.

We're told of terminally ill people eating depleted uranium in the name of medical research. We're told that we can't be told stuff, because our --(read 'my')-- clearance isn't high enough. We're told about Cerenkov radiation, which I think is pretty cool (even cooler when we actually got to see it this afternoon). We're told about bandsaws and giant catapults and neutrons and 'Reactor pressure wessels'.

We go out for a girl's birthday:

Delegate: 'You were born in seventy eight, and you're 26? Your birthday must be late in the year then?'
I couldn't resist: Do you not think it might have been in March?

I have to admit, I feel a little guilty. It got the laugh I expected --(read 'needed')-- but I think I might have seriously embarrassed the poor guy.

Next time we'll get the train

My driver is so keen to get shot at he is going to Iraq now, rather than three weeks from now.

Guess I'd better stop calling him my driver.

Guess I'd better pass my driving test.

Later . . .