Post by Chris Shaw Feral Metallurgist on Jan 29, 2006 13:48:08 GMT
As a 40 yo mature-age student and ex-plant operator, I presented myself to Sam Swaminathan, metallurgical guru of the Bendigo College of Advanced Education. Sam wasted no time in beating me around the head with Mineral Processing Technology (4th ed), by a certain B A Wills (ring any bells?), which almost resulted in my premature demise.
Bereft of one original thought and threatened by the prospect of Gy's 3D math, I resorted to the only talent that nature had seen fit to endow me with - plagiarism.
Here then is one of my earliest contributions to the black art of extractive metallurgy. Sad to say, it did not butter any fish with Sam:
The Rubaiyat of Fathi Habashi.
Awake! For ball mill in the dead of night
Has ground the ore which sets the gold to flight.
And lo! The metallugist from the East
Has optimised recovery by break of light.
Dreaming when dawn's left hand was in the sky,
I heard a voice within the Office cry,
"Awake my little ones and clean the plant.
The managing director is nigh."
The moving pulp gets leached and having dwelt,
Moves on. Not all thy piety nor wit
Shall lure it back to yield another gram,
Nor all thy tears return it from the tailing dam.
What of the loaded carbon spilt upon the ground
Ignored by the operator on his nocturnal round?
Even as management complains,
He'll win the gram or so of gold that it contains.
And at week's end when all assays are writ,
Carbon profile, tonnage (give or take a bit),
Why is it the numbers seldom match
The bar of gold that they're supposed to fit?
Ah, take my CN soaked body from which the life was press'd
And bury me in a mullock heap facing West
So even a Superintendent passing by, might pause
And say, "He tried his best."
Question: How did you become a metallurgist?
Bereft of one original thought and threatened by the prospect of Gy's 3D math, I resorted to the only talent that nature had seen fit to endow me with - plagiarism.
Here then is one of my earliest contributions to the black art of extractive metallurgy. Sad to say, it did not butter any fish with Sam:
The Rubaiyat of Fathi Habashi.
Awake! For ball mill in the dead of night
Has ground the ore which sets the gold to flight.
And lo! The metallugist from the East
Has optimised recovery by break of light.
Dreaming when dawn's left hand was in the sky,
I heard a voice within the Office cry,
"Awake my little ones and clean the plant.
The managing director is nigh."
The moving pulp gets leached and having dwelt,
Moves on. Not all thy piety nor wit
Shall lure it back to yield another gram,
Nor all thy tears return it from the tailing dam.
What of the loaded carbon spilt upon the ground
Ignored by the operator on his nocturnal round?
Even as management complains,
He'll win the gram or so of gold that it contains.
And at week's end when all assays are writ,
Carbon profile, tonnage (give or take a bit),
Why is it the numbers seldom match
The bar of gold that they're supposed to fit?
Ah, take my CN soaked body from which the life was press'd
And bury me in a mullock heap facing West
So even a Superintendent passing by, might pause
And say, "He tried his best."
Question: How did you become a metallurgist?