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In which generative AI interferes with scientific training – potentially
One from the archives: writing up my scientific results as a summer intern at the US NIHI have recently written about the perils of scientists relying on generative AI for writing. But the topic isn’t...
View ArticleIn which human scientists are losing the battle
This is the year that AI in science first began to scare me. (Disclaimer: I’m not talking about machine learning, which is a useful and powerful scientific tool. I’m using the term AI here as shorthand...
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In which the road forks and the future splinters
The end of a long roadIt’s that time of year when prospective undergraduates are considering their various offers to study at university. As the Admissions Tutor for a large BSc programme, I’ve been...
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In which I come home
Over the past few weeks, I’ve been caught in the flurry of the early-spring conference season, crisscrossing continents to take part in that most ritualistic of scientific pastimes: networking, giving...
View ArticleIn which sadness serves a purpose
It’s one of those weekend afternoons when the garden is almost too beautiful. Too much. I sit here under a blanket on a deck chair in the blustery wind, trying to write, but all the songbirds have...
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In which we build the perfect scientist
The work universe bubble at homeThey say it takes a village to raise a child. But I’ve been wondering recently what it takes to raise an independent scientist. Specifically, I’m thinking of the “valley...
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In which we’ve lost the scientific argument
From the archives: Science is Vital rally, London 2010 (RIP Colin Blakemore, being interviewed with me in the lower left panel) Most photos by Joe DunckleyToday in the United States, researchers are...
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In which I thank my stars for country living
The three ingredients for a happy life When I first moved to London in 1997, I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Long hours in the lab would spill into the evening streets and underground tunnels...
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In which I make contact
Back in the late Nineties, I was interning at the National Institutes of Health in Bethesda, Maryland. During the working week, I threw myself into the lab with all the evangelical fervour of a pilgrim...
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In which I dream
One from the archives: I check out some urinary tract infection bacteria, circa 2016 Last night I dreamt I was pipetting. It was a beautiful Gilson p200, the classic model of my formative years. The...
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In which we celebrate
Overlapping festive traditions: new (left) and old (right) baubles Christmas, I argue, is a space-time continuum where the past and present layer up like sediments on the Jurassic coast. At the...
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In which I age backwards
I don’t know if it’s just me, but for the last few years, I’ve forgotten how old I am. Because I spend so much of the year pessimistically rounding up, I’m rendered unsure by the present state of...
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In which we land
Our migration is complete: my lab now has a new home. And for me, a new office space. The secret to my scientific success? Numerous studies have scrutinised the effect of environment on work...
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In which I capture the present, but forget why
Ancient history (1997): does anyone map plasmids anymore? I have always been a compulsive chronicler, ever since I was a small child starting off my first journal. I still write an entry nearly every...
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In which I cherish useless facts
I’ve just had my first letter to the editor published in the Times (of London, that is, not of New York). It wasn’t an urgent missive about science policy or politics or the state of the world or the...
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In which I see the light
Viburnum x bodnantense, a winter-flowering shrub I’m happy, and I don’t know why. Usually I dread this time of year, the period between demobbing the Christmas tree and the daffodil-studded benevolence...
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In which academic dreams come true: a belated professorship
I have wanted to be a scientist since before I can remember. I did all the right things: I studied hard, finished my homework, raised my hand in class, failed to hide the fact that I loved learning,...
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In which summers shrink
Academics talk nostalgically about rosy-tinted times of yore when summers meant a lull in lecturing duties. The months would unfold before you, a vast landscape of research possibilities. It was a...
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In which the pandemic unfolds: a postcard from The Big One?
Epidemics are works in progress. At any given moment in time, you can’t know how they will end. They are a curve on a graph of ultimately unknown trajectory; when you are just a dot on a growing...
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In which my mother stands behind me, and I mother in turn
The winter always belonged to my mother and me. We both loved the late autumn, when the last of the leaves plastered the pavements in a smear of color, and our breath fogged the morning air. November...
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