Beard: the verdict is that it suits me. I find it difficult to resist the urge to constantly touch it. No one else seems to share this urge, however. Probably just as well (though I admit to being a tad disappointed...)
iPad: except for the name, the lack of multi-user accounts, multi-tasking, and a front-facing camera for video chat, it is another item that I would find difficult to resist. Multi-tasking could be a deal-breaker, because when traveling, I need to be able to access web-based databases *and* word documents simultaneously (Apple - if you’re reading this: at NIH committee we need to access the online database and simultaneously our notes on the grants we’re commenting on). Apple do many things very well, but they are in danger of forgetting that people multitask, and they need equipment that can multitask with them.
Gaggia: My Gaggia bean-to-cup espresso machine, unlike the iPad, does multitask. It can simultaneously make coffee and leak. Probably, this is an example of multitasking that I could do without. A dose of descaler and a quick prod around the seals with a couple of cotton buds did the trick. But only for an all-too-brief 24 hours. Will need to take a screwdriver to it. Delonghi have offered to step in and help out with a heavily discounted replacement. With luck, and although negotiations are ongoing, they will become official lab sponsors. If only Apple were as approachable as Delonghi...
iPond: Having managed to kill the larger fish in my pond by not clearing the ice off quickly enough (turns out it doesn’t take long), I’ve now installed a pond heater. It’s nothing fancy - just an electric kettle that I dropped into the pond with a longer-than-usual cable feeding into a power-supply. Ok, maybe not an electric kettle... but it does stop the ice covering the entire pond, and so allows the gases that would otherwise accumulate to escape the pond. So when the temperature looks like it’s going to drop, I have to throw the thing in (it’s attached to a polystyrene float), and hope that the fish prefer being lightly broiled than slowly gassed. Needless to say, the running costs of a 600 watt heater are not insignificant, and the lights in the houses all around do noticeably dim as soon as I switch the thing on.
The Olympics: I returned from my US trip in buoyant spirits, brought about not simply by the terrific time I had in San Diego, San Francisco, and Philadelphia, but by the fact that, unlike previous trips, I had returned with my health intact. I got back last Friday. I lasted 6 days. And then the cold hit me. And whereas the iPad believes that streaming is something to do with video, my nose believes it is something else, and is on a mission to use up the world’s entire resource of disposable tissues in as short a time as possible. If streaming were an Olympic sport, my nose would be up there on the winner’s podium.
Research: A rash of new data has hit the lab. Unlike other rashes, this is a good one.
The Journal: A rash of new submissions has hit the journal. Like other rashes, this may require medication. Or plenty of alcohol.
Saturday, 20 February 2010
Tuesday, 9 February 2010
snow and coffee sometimes mix...
I’m currently in Philadelphia, having arrived two days later than planned because of a snow storm that deposited an officially measured 28 inches of snow on Philadelphia, prompting the closure of its airport, train station, and pretty much all other forms of access. Washington DC had it worse - they had 32 inches, and great swathes of the metropolis and its environs (whatever those are) went without electricity for a day or two. The last time I recall a city being brought to a standstill by snow, it was London. Everything came to a grinding halt. Buses, trains, planes, even the underground. I think the official figure for the snowfall was a half-inch.
So.. Philadelphia... home to the Declaration of Independence, the Liberty Bell, the finest coffee shop in the world, and, matching the quality of the coffee, the finest brain imaging I’ve ever become involved with (oh wait, it’s the only brain imaging I’ve ever been involved with. Well... it’s damned fine all the same! [you have to imagine that last sentence uttered in a very aristocratic British accent. Otherwise it simply doesn’t work]).
Am due to fly back on Wednesday night. Back to a pond that is bereft of the larger of its fish, as well as its pump (it broke, again... but Oase who make it have amazingly good customer service). A new pump awaits me, and will go in at the weekend. In the meantime, I hear that more snow is expected. But so long as I can get to La Colombe (coffee-heaven), I shall not care.
So.. Philadelphia... home to the Declaration of Independence, the Liberty Bell, the finest coffee shop in the world, and, matching the quality of the coffee, the finest brain imaging I’ve ever become involved with (oh wait, it’s the only brain imaging I’ve ever been involved with. Well... it’s damned fine all the same! [you have to imagine that last sentence uttered in a very aristocratic British accent. Otherwise it simply doesn’t work]).
Am due to fly back on Wednesday night. Back to a pond that is bereft of the larger of its fish, as well as its pump (it broke, again... but Oase who make it have amazingly good customer service). A new pump awaits me, and will go in at the weekend. In the meantime, I hear that more snow is expected. But so long as I can get to La Colombe (coffee-heaven), I shall not care.
Saturday, 23 January 2010
snow's all gone
Yep. The snows have melted. The ice on the pond has broken up, and the 15 dead fish removed and ‘recycled’. The final toll was 18 fish, at least one of which was killed by a marauding heron. Except for two of the fish, the remainder were all 8 to 12 inches long. These were BIG fish. I console myself with the fact that this was the coldest winter in over 100 years (apparently), and I now have an excuse, in the Spring, to go and buy replacement fish (smaller ones, though, as the cost of these things would have been in excess of £300 for the larger ones).
Life has been quiet since Xmas. I submitted a grant proposal, actioned yet more from the relentless stream of submissions to the journal, went to Germany to give a talk, prepared NIH reviews, bought train tickets, booked hotels, failed (I believe) to secure a sizeable discount on new coffee machines (yes, plural coffee machines), and no doubt failed at many other things too. The Xmas lull was lovely - I did no work for a few days and would have gladly continued the life of leisure. I am already looking forward to next Xmas. By which time my latest acquisition will most likely be long gone. I’ve decided that beards are over-rated, high-maintenance, and no replacement for the joy of handing over hard-earned cash for new gadgetry.
Life has been quiet since Xmas. I submitted a grant proposal, actioned yet more from the relentless stream of submissions to the journal, went to Germany to give a talk, prepared NIH reviews, bought train tickets, booked hotels, failed (I believe) to secure a sizeable discount on new coffee machines (yes, plural coffee machines), and no doubt failed at many other things too. The Xmas lull was lovely - I did no work for a few days and would have gladly continued the life of leisure. I am already looking forward to next Xmas. By which time my latest acquisition will most likely be long gone. I’ve decided that beards are over-rated, high-maintenance, and no replacement for the joy of handing over hard-earned cash for new gadgetry.
Sunday, 17 January 2010
quick link to give aid
Clicking on the logo above will take you to a page in iTunes from where you can donate to the relief effort with a single click. 100% of the donation is passed on to the Red Cross. The fact that this is the American Red Cross, and not the UK version is immaterial. They don’t care through which channel the money arrives. If you prefer not to go via iTunes, you can go directly to their website.
Sunday, 3 January 2010
cognition: the year in review
Three days into 2010 and I’m already having to think about the journal again... It’s time to get up from beside the fireplace and stop gazing out at the falling snow...
As promised, here are some facts and figures regarding the journal Cognition. This is the journal I edit, together with 6 Associate Editors without whom it would be impossible to manage the journal.
Last year we received 842 submissions. That’s 18% more than the previous year, and almost 50% more than when I took over as Editor-in-Chief back in 2006. Of those 842 submissions, I unintentionally dealt with so many that I’m embarrassed to actually write down the figure here. Collectively, we triaged 36% of manuscripts (i.e. we did not sent them out to review but politely declined them), and we accepted just 21% (we were clearly feeling rather generous in 2009, as we had accepted only 19% in 2008). The average turnaround time between submission and decision (excluding triage cases) was under 3 months, and the average lag between accepting a manuscript and publishing it was also under 3 months. Of course, there were some cases where, for one reason or another, the manuscript languished for up to 6 months, but generally this was because of difficulties in soliciting reviews (often, the reviewers whom we first approached were too busy to accept the invitation to review the manuscript - in fact, almost 40% of the reviewers whom we approached were too busy. This is probably one of the highest such figures in ‘the industry’, but reflects the quality of the reviewers whom we approach). And speaking of reviewers, we approached 1661 different reviewers (and we invited some of these more than once - one reviewer, a member of our ‘editorial board’ completed an incredible 9 reviews in 2009! This particular person did receive a personalised email from me, though a medal might have been more appropriate!).
Despite the relatively fast turnaround, authors who had the misfortune to be handled by myself (let me disambiguate that: it was their manuscripts I handled...) did suffer slightly longer delays: on average, their manuscripts languished up to 4 weeks on various queues (waiting until I decided to handle it myself rather than pass it on to an associate editor, waiting to go out to review, and then waiting for a decision letter once all the reviews were in). But in fairness to myself, this average delay was brought about by two mitigating factors: First, I did travel a fair bit in 2009 (I was away from home for what amounted to the equivalent of two entire months!), and when traveling I can’t clear those queues. And second, and despite not wishing to write down the precise figure, I made on average just under 9 ‘accept’ or ‘reject’ decisions each week of 2009. And that doesn’t include ‘revise and resubmit’ decisions! So it’s not hard to see why there were (and will continue to be) occasional delays. In fact, the statistics show that the rate at which I make those final accept/reject decisions exactly matches the rate at which I receive new manuscripts to handle. Which is just as well, as otherwise the queues would build up and the delays would get longer and longer.
Occasionally, people ask me how I manage this. Ideally, my workload would be around a third of what it actually is - it’s this high because of the huge increase in submissions we received this year, and the inevitable lag between when we get such increases and when Elsevier can put more money into paying for more associate editors (each editor receives a modest ‘honorarium’). Next year, I’ll be able to take on two more associate editors (thank you, Elsevier!), and this will make a big difference as they will reduce my load by almost 50%. But still, it remains the case that I surprise even myself with the workload. It is very clearly the case that I would not have remained sane were it not for an understanding family, understanding colleagues (including a really remarkable set of associate editors without whom I could not conceive of doing this job), fantastic collaborators (without which my research would grind to a snail’s pace), and equally fantastic friends. To all of these people, I say ’thank you’.
Hmmm. It occurs to me that perhaps I am not sitting by the roaring fire, gazing out, over my laptop, towards the snow-covered garden and iced-over pond. Perhaps I did go mad after all, and I am living out a delusional fantasy from the confines of a padded room somewhere in deepest Yorkshire. In which case, it’s not a bad life after all!
Happy 2010!
As promised, here are some facts and figures regarding the journal Cognition. This is the journal I edit, together with 6 Associate Editors without whom it would be impossible to manage the journal.
Last year we received 842 submissions. That’s 18% more than the previous year, and almost 50% more than when I took over as Editor-in-Chief back in 2006. Of those 842 submissions, I unintentionally dealt with so many that I’m embarrassed to actually write down the figure here. Collectively, we triaged 36% of manuscripts (i.e. we did not sent them out to review but politely declined them), and we accepted just 21% (we were clearly feeling rather generous in 2009, as we had accepted only 19% in 2008). The average turnaround time between submission and decision (excluding triage cases) was under 3 months, and the average lag between accepting a manuscript and publishing it was also under 3 months. Of course, there were some cases where, for one reason or another, the manuscript languished for up to 6 months, but generally this was because of difficulties in soliciting reviews (often, the reviewers whom we first approached were too busy to accept the invitation to review the manuscript - in fact, almost 40% of the reviewers whom we approached were too busy. This is probably one of the highest such figures in ‘the industry’, but reflects the quality of the reviewers whom we approach). And speaking of reviewers, we approached 1661 different reviewers (and we invited some of these more than once - one reviewer, a member of our ‘editorial board’ completed an incredible 9 reviews in 2009! This particular person did receive a personalised email from me, though a medal might have been more appropriate!).
Despite the relatively fast turnaround, authors who had the misfortune to be handled by myself (let me disambiguate that: it was their manuscripts I handled...) did suffer slightly longer delays: on average, their manuscripts languished up to 4 weeks on various queues (waiting until I decided to handle it myself rather than pass it on to an associate editor, waiting to go out to review, and then waiting for a decision letter once all the reviews were in). But in fairness to myself, this average delay was brought about by two mitigating factors: First, I did travel a fair bit in 2009 (I was away from home for what amounted to the equivalent of two entire months!), and when traveling I can’t clear those queues. And second, and despite not wishing to write down the precise figure, I made on average just under 9 ‘accept’ or ‘reject’ decisions each week of 2009. And that doesn’t include ‘revise and resubmit’ decisions! So it’s not hard to see why there were (and will continue to be) occasional delays. In fact, the statistics show that the rate at which I make those final accept/reject decisions exactly matches the rate at which I receive new manuscripts to handle. Which is just as well, as otherwise the queues would build up and the delays would get longer and longer.
Occasionally, people ask me how I manage this. Ideally, my workload would be around a third of what it actually is - it’s this high because of the huge increase in submissions we received this year, and the inevitable lag between when we get such increases and when Elsevier can put more money into paying for more associate editors (each editor receives a modest ‘honorarium’). Next year, I’ll be able to take on two more associate editors (thank you, Elsevier!), and this will make a big difference as they will reduce my load by almost 50%. But still, it remains the case that I surprise even myself with the workload. It is very clearly the case that I would not have remained sane were it not for an understanding family, understanding colleagues (including a really remarkable set of associate editors without whom I could not conceive of doing this job), fantastic collaborators (without which my research would grind to a snail’s pace), and equally fantastic friends. To all of these people, I say ’thank you’.
Hmmm. It occurs to me that perhaps I am not sitting by the roaring fire, gazing out, over my laptop, towards the snow-covered garden and iced-over pond. Perhaps I did go mad after all, and I am living out a delusional fantasy from the confines of a padded room somewhere in deepest Yorkshire. In which case, it’s not a bad life after all!
Happy 2010!
Wednesday, 30 December 2009
Philemon and Baucis
As the embers of the current year die away, it is a time of reflection between these last moments of 2009 that are otherwise shared between finishing off a grant proposal to fund the next few years of my research and processing yet more manuscripts that await editorial decisions (it is perhaps not surprising that many reviews were submitted in these last days of the year). And as a part of that reflection, I reprint here a poem written by, of all people, my own father. Ostensibly, it is a poem about an old married couple, Philemon and Baucis, who, having given sanctuary to the god Zeus, were granted the wish that each should die at the same time. My parents are (I think, but cannot be absolutely sure!) 87 and 85. And I have learned much from them.
Philemon and Baucis
They no longer remember their actual age,
every night’s a new night on their hard bed.
They search for their old bodies and embrace.
Every night new, every night the same:
sharing of experience gives their love strength.
They no longer remember their actual age.
Time’s measure they now reject as strange,
the time that matters turns to love instead.
They search for their old bodies and embrace.
There is never in their love such careless haste
that forgets the affection of caress.
They no longer remember their actual age.
They now rejoice that they have learnt to tame
the youthful follies that helped create stress.
They search for their old bodies and embrace.
Their love does not seek greatness nor fame
but at last is all about and much more than sex.
They no longer remember their actual age,
they search for their old bodies and embrace.
I have never really understood poetry. Yes, I know that makes me a philistine. But this is one poem I do understand. I reproduce it here to remind myself that there is more to life than writing (and reviewing) grant applications, editing a journal, or coveting expensive bean-to-cup coffee machines...
poem © Simon L. Altmann
Philemon and Baucis
They no longer remember their actual age,
every night’s a new night on their hard bed.
They search for their old bodies and embrace.
Every night new, every night the same:
sharing of experience gives their love strength.
They no longer remember their actual age.
Time’s measure they now reject as strange,
the time that matters turns to love instead.
They search for their old bodies and embrace.
There is never in their love such careless haste
that forgets the affection of caress.
They no longer remember their actual age.
They now rejoice that they have learnt to tame
the youthful follies that helped create stress.
They search for their old bodies and embrace.
Their love does not seek greatness nor fame
but at last is all about and much more than sex.
They no longer remember their actual age,
they search for their old bodies and embrace.
I have never really understood poetry. Yes, I know that makes me a philistine. But this is one poem I do understand. I reproduce it here to remind myself that there is more to life than writing (and reviewing) grant applications, editing a journal, or coveting expensive bean-to-cup coffee machines...
poem © Simon L. Altmann
Thursday, 24 December 2009
it's almost xmas...
So... it’s that time of year again... Xmas is upon us. As is lots of chocolate.
Have a good one. And a great 2010.
Have a good one. And a great 2010.
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