A Novel Approach for Axle Detection in Bridge Weigh-In-Motion Systems

Bridge weigh-in-motion (B-WIM), a system that uses strain sensors to calculate the weights of trucks passing on bridges overhead, requires accurate axle location and speed information for effective performance. The success of a B-WIM system is dependent upon the accuracy of the axle detection method. It is widely recognised that any form of axle detector on the road surface is not ideal for B-WIM applications as it can cause disruption to the traffic (Ojio & Yamada 2002; Zhao et al. 2005; Chatterjee et al. 2006). Sensors under the bridge, that is Nothing-on-Road (NOR) B-WIM, can perform axle detection via data acquisition systems which can detect a peak in strain as the axle passes. The method is often successful, although not all bridges are suitable for NOR B-WIM due to limitations of the system. Significant research has been carried out to further develop the method and the NOR algorithms, but beam-and-slab bridges with deep beams still present a challenge. With these bridges, the slabs are used for axle detection, but peaks in the slab strains are sensitive to the transverse position of wheels on the beam. This next generation B-WIM research project extends the current B-WIM algorithm to the problem of axle detection and safety, thus overcoming the existing limitations in current state-of–the-art technology. Finite Element Analysis was used to determine the critical locations for axle detecting sensors and the findings were then tested in the field. In this paper, alternative strategies for axle detection were determined using Finite Element analysis and the findings were then tested in the field. The site selected for testing was in Loughbrickland, Northern Ireland, along the A1 corridor connecting the two cities of Belfast and Dublin. The structure is on a central route through the island of Ireland and has a high traffic volume which made it an optimum location for the study. Another huge benefit of the chosen location was its close proximity to a nearby self-operated weigh station. To determine the accuracy of the proposed B-WIM system and develop a knowledge base of the traffic load on the structure, a pavement WIM system was also installed on the northbound lane on the approach to the structure. The bridge structure selected for this B-WIM research comprised of 27 pre-cast prestressed concrete Y4-beams, and a cast in-situ concrete deck. The structure, a newly constructed integral bridge, spans 19 m and has an angle of skew of 22.7°.

The Dublin Lock Hospital: Medicine, Morality, Disease and Sin

Anecdotal evidence has it that when Dublin’s venereal disease hospital closed its doors for the last time in the 1950s, its administrative staff began to burn its records, starting with the most recent. This attempt to conceal the results of sexual profligacy is perhaps understandable in the rarefied climate of mid-century Catholic Ireland. However, the sense of shame attached to this institution has been pervasive. For example, of all Dublin’s major hospitals, the lock hospital remains the only one without a dedicated history. And, throughout its two centuries of existence, the ‘lock’ had often been a site of controversy and approbation.

The institution began in the eighteenth century as the most peripatetic, poor relation of the city’s voluntary hospitals, wandering indiscriminately through a series of temporary premises before finally achieving a permanent home and official recognition as a military-sponsored medical hospital in 1792. It also gained architectural extensions by both Richard and Francis Johnston and in the following decades. This new-found status and a growing re-conceptualisation of venereal disease as a legitimate medical problem rather than a matter of morality was, however, somewhat compromised by the choice of site at Townsend Street. The institution occupied a hidden part of city, appropriating the vacated home of the Hospital for Incurables, another marginalised group whose presence in the city had been viewed through the lens of superstition and fear. For the rest of its existence, the lock hospital would share this experience occupying a nebulous position between medicine and morality; disease and sin.

Using what’s left of the hospital’s records and a series of original architectural drawings, this paper discusses the presence and role of the lock hospital in the city in the eighteenth and early nineteenth century, tracking how changes in its administration and architectural form reflected wider attitudes towards disease, sexuality and gender in Georgian Dublin.

Protestantism, Spectacle, Motherhood and Vice: Dublin's New Pleasure Gardens

In 1748, Bartholomew Mosse, a curious combination of surgeon, obstetrician and entertainment impresario, established a pleasure garden on the northern fringes of Dublin. Ostensibly designed to fund the construction of a maternity hospital to be located adjacently, Mosse’s New Pleasure Gardens became one of the premier leisure resorts in Dublin. This was to have a profound effect on the city’s urban form. Within a few years the gardens became an epicentre of speculative development as the upper classes jostled to build their houses in the vicinity. Meanwhile, the creation nearby of Sackville Mall, a wide and generous strolling ground, established a whole section of the city dedicated to haute spectacle, display and leisure. Like other pleasure gardens in the British Isles, Mosse’s venture introduced new, commodified forms of entertainment. In the colonial context of eighteenth-century Ireland, however, ‘a land only recently won and insecurely held’ (Foster, 1988) by the Protestant Anglo-Irish settler class, the production of culture and spectacle was perhaps more significant than elsewhere. Indeed, the form of Mosse’s gardens echoed the private city gardens of a key figure in the Anglo-Irish aristocracy, while the hospital itself was constructed in a style of a Palladian country house, symbol of colonial presence in the countryside. However, like other pleasure gardens, the mix of music and alcohol, the heterogeneous crowd culled from across social and gender boundaries, and a landscape punctuated with secluded corners, meant that it also acquired a dubious reputation as a haunt of louche and illicit behaviours. The curious juxtaposition between a maternity hospital and pleasure garden, therefore, begins to assume other, hitherto hidden complexities. These are borne out by a closer examination of the architecture of the hospital, the shape of its landscape and the records of its patrons and patients.

Dublin 1916: theatre of revolt

At Easter 1916, Dublin city centre was one of a series of sites throughout Ireland where a rebellion was staged against British rule. It was a strategic failure, swiftly crushed by superior British forces. The event, however, subsequently took a central role in the mythology of modern Ireland.

The first visual representations were of the conflict’s aftermath: photographic journeys through landscapes of ruin. From the distance of the camera, we see none of the pockmarks of shell bursts, nor the etchings of machine guns. Instead, traces of life in the city seem to have been swept aside by an unseen hand: the passing of millennia or a violent action of nature. Architecture alone has witnessed and recorded its presence. Amongst the fragments, the shell of the General Post Office (G.P.O.) in Sackville Street is one of the few buildings still wholly recognizable. The remnants of its classical form, portico and pediment, columns and entablature seem to transcend its prosaic modern functions and allude to something more ancient. The bewilderment of city’s inhabitants is also recorded. Dubliners have become inquisitive tourists in streets which hitherto were the locus of everyday life. They wander around aimlessly in a landscape as alien and picturesque as Pompeii. This shift in perception was captured by the Irish poet W.B. Yeats who hinted that Dublin, purged of modern commercialism had transcended its petty inadequacies to revive a slumbering heroic past.

‘I have met them at the close of day
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Eighteenth-century houses [.]’
All is changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.’

His comments were prescient. Initially unpopular, the republican leaders, executed by the British, slowly became recast as heroic martyrs. Similarly, the spaces where their heroism was forged became venerated. The G.P.O. and Sackville Street, however, already had a republican history. It was originally conceived in the eighteenth century as part of a series of magnificent urban spaces to provide an arena of spectacle and self-celebration for the colonial Anglo-Irish and their vision of a Protestant republic. O’Connell/Sackville Street became the temporal, geographical and mythical hinge upon which two different versions of Irish republicanism waxed and waned. Its recasting after independence as a space of Catholic Nationalism bore testimony to its consistency in providing a backdrop for the production of ritual and myth. In the 1920s and 30s, as the nascent country, beset with economic stagnation and political tensions, turned to spectacle as a salve for it social problems, O’Connell Street and the G.P.O. provided its most sacred sites. Within the introduction of new myths, however, individual as well as national identities were created and consolidated. The emerging identity of modern Ireland became inextricably linked with that of one ambitious politician. His uses of the G.P.O. in particular revealed a perceptive understanding of the political uses of classical architecture and urban space.

Dublin 1916: theatre of revolt

In his essay, Anti-Object, Kengo Kuma proposes that architecture cannot and should not be understood as object alone but instead always as series of networks and connections, relationships within space and through form. Some of these relationships are tangible, others are invisible. Stan Allen and James Corner have also called for an architecture that is more performative and operative – ‘less concerned with what buildings look like and more concerned with what they do’ – as means of effecting a more intimate and promiscuous relationship between infrastructure, urbanism and buildings. According to Allen this expanding filed offers a reclamation of some of the areas ceded by architecture following disciplinary specialization:

‘Territory, communication and speed are properly infrastructural problems and architecture as a discipline has developed specific technical means to deal with these variables. Mapping, projection, calculation, notation and visualization are among architecture’s traditional tools for operating at the very large scale’.

The motorway may not look like it – partly because we are no longer accustomed to think about it as such – but it is a site for and of architecture, a territory where architecture can be critical and active. If the limits of the discipline have narrowed, then one of the functions of a school of architecture must be an attempt occupy those areas of the built environment where architecture is no longer, or has yet to reach. If this is a project about reclamation of a landscape, it is also a challenge to some of the boundaries that surround architecture and often confine it, as Kuma suggests, to the appreciation of isolated objects.

M:NI 2014-15
We tend to think of the motorway as a thing or an object, something that has a singular function. Historically this is how it has been seen, with engineers designing bridges and embankments and suchlike with zeal … These objects like the M3 Urban Motorway, Belfast’s own Westway, are beautiful of course, but they have caused considerable damage to the city they were inflicted upon.

Actually, it’s the fact that we have seen the motorway as a solid object that has caused this problem. The motorway actually is a fluid and dynamic thing, and it should be seen as such: in fact it’s not an organ at all but actually tissue – something that connects rather than is. Once we start to see the motorway as tissue, it opens up new propositions about what the motorway is, is used for and does. This new dynamic and connective view unlocks the stasis of the motorway as edifice, and allows adaptation to happen: adaptation to old contexts that were ignored by the planners, and adaptation to new contexts that have arisen because of or in spite of our best efforts.

Motorways as tissue are more than just infrastructures: they are landscapes. These landscapes can be seen as surfaces on which flows take place, not only of cars, buses and lorries, but also of the globalized goods carried and the lifestyles and mobilities enabled. Here the infinite speed of urban change of thought transcends the declared speed limit [70 mph] of the motorway, in that a consignment of bananas can cause soil erosion in Equador, or the delivery of a new iphone can unlock connections and ideas the world over.

So what is this new landscape to be like? It may be a parallax-shifting, cognitive looking glass; a drone scape of energy transformation; a collective farm, or maybe part of a hospital. But what’s for sure, is that it is never fixed nor static: it pulses like a heartbeat through that most bland of landscapes, the countryside. It transmits forces like a Caribbean hurricane creating surf on an Atlantic Storm Beach: alien forces that mutate and re-form these places screaming into new, unclear and unintended futures.

And this future is clear: the future is urban. In this small rural country, motorways as tissue have made the whole of it: countryside, mountain, sea and town, into one singular, homogenous and hyper-connected, generic city.

Goodbye, place. Hello, surface!

Utilisation of a novel ProteaseTag™ activity immunoassay for the specific measurement of neutrophil elastase in BAL from children with cystic fibrosis

Introduction: Neutrophil elastase (NE) is a serine protease implicated in the pathogenesis of several respiratory diseases including cystic fibrosis (CF). The presence of free NE in BAL is a predictor of subsequent bronchiectasis in children with CF (Sly et al, 2013, NEJM 368: 1963-1970). Furthermore, children with higher levels of sputum NE activity (NEa) tend to experience a more rapid decline in FEV1 over time even after adjusting for age, gender and baseline FEV1 (Sagel et al, 2012, AJRCCM 186: 857-865). Its detection and quantification in biological samples is however confounded by a lack of robust methodologies. Standard assays using chromogenic or fluorogenic substrates are not specific when added to complex samples containing multiple proteolytic and hydrolytic enzymes. ELISA systems measure total protein levels which can be a mixture of latent, active and protease-inhibitor complexes. We have therefore developed a novel assay (ProteaseTag™ Active NE Immunoassay), which couples an activity dependent NE-Tag with a specific antibody step, resulting in an assay which is both selective and specific for NEa. Aims: To clinically validate ProteaseTag™ Active NE for the detection of free NEa in BAL from children with CF. Methods: A total of 95 paediatric BAL samples [CF (n=76; 44M, 32F) non-CF (n=19; 12M, 7F)] collected through the Study of Host Immunity and Early Lung Disease in CF (SHIELD CF) were analysed for NEa using ProteaseTag™ Active NE (ProAxsis Ltd) and a fluorogenic substrate-based assay utilising Suc-AAPV-AMC (Sigma). IL-8 was measured by ELISA (R&D Systems). Results were analysed to show comparisons in free NEa between CF and non-CF samples alongside correlations with a range of clinical parameters. Results: NEa measured by ProteaseTag™ Active NE correlated significantly with age (r=0.3, p=0.01) and highly significantly with both IL-8 (r=0.4, p=<0.0001) and the absolute neutrophil count (ANC) (r=0.4, p=<0.0001). These correlations were not observed when NEa was measured by the substrate assay even though a significant correlation was found between the two assays (r=0.8, p<0.0001). A trend towards significance was found between NEa in the CF and non-CF groups when measured by ProteaseTag™ Active NE (p=0.07). Highly significant differences were found with the other inflammatory parameters between the 2 groups (IL-8: p=0.0002 and ANC: p=0.006). Conclusion: NEa as a primary efficacy endpoint in clinical trials or as a marker of inflammation within the clinic has been hampered by the lack of a robust and simple to use assay. ProteaseTag™ Active NE has been shown to be a specific and superior tool in the measurement of NEa in paediatric CF BAL samples (supporting data from previous studies using adult CF expectorated samples). The technology is currently being transferred to a lateral flow device for use at Point of Care. Acknowledgements: This work was supported by the National Children’s Research Centre, Dublin (SHIELD CF) and grants from the Medical Research Council and Cystic Fibrosis Foundation Therapeutics.