According to the New Testament account, after the crucifixion Thomas insists on seeing and touching the wounds of Jesus before he will believe in the resurrection. Jesus shows Thomas but gently upbraids him: “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.” Which is fine, as a basis for faith . If that is your response to the ineffable mystery of existence.
Last month I gave a talk to a group of Imperial College Alumni, all of whom had made a generous donation to the university and still take an interest in what goes on there. An interest keen enough to drag them to a lecture theatre on a grey October evening to hear one of the College’s researchers give an account of their latest work.
Without quite meaning to I realise that I have been generating a series of blogposts about the publication process. Initially I wrote about my struggles to finesse the figures needed to show off the important aspects of our structure of the complex of the 3C protease with a peptide substrate. After we had submitted the manuscript, I discussed the issues surrounding our use of language that had been raised by one of the reviewers.
Last week, the engine on NASA’s brand new Ares 1-X flamed into life and the oddly thin white tube slowly raised itself from the launchpad. It accelerated impressively quickly and arced into the blue Florida sky. Within about two minutes it was travelling at almost five times the speed of sound. Aiming high (picture courtesy of NASA). Right on cue, explosive bolts fired to initiate stage separation.
Yesterday, I had a new experience that tested my scientific mettle to the limit: I got stuck in a lift. There I was, dropping smoothly from the 7th floor of the Huxley building on my way to a student viva, when the lift suddenly jerked to a halt. The metal box then announced, in soothing female — almost Adamsian — tones, “This lift is out of service.” She wasn’t wrong.
I’m beginning to recognise the signs. Have you seen them too? The mercury is holding steady but there’s a sudden and unexpected stiffening of the breeze. And a darkening tint to the clouded sky. Yes — there can be no doubt — there’s a storm coming. A Twitter-storm. We’ve not had much of this kind of thing in the past but these squalls seem to be becoming more frequent. They are a very interesting phenomenon;
The twitterverse has been alive this morning with the wonderful news that Simon Singh has been granted leave to appeal Justice Eady’s ruling in the libel case that the British Chiropractic Association had brought against the popular science author. See here and here for some background to the case. The news is all the more wonderful because it was so unexpected.
When it comes to language, I am a lover and a fighter. I’m no great expert but I know what I like and do try to take a bit of care every time I lay out my little handkerchief of prose here on Nature Network.
At the Diamond synchrotron last week, Jamie Oliver would have been proud of us. Amar and I pitched up last Thursday afternoon at the great gleaming doughnut in the Oxfordshire countryside with the latest batch of Amar’s crystals, packed carefully into a dry nitrogen dewar to keep the little jewels frozen at a chilly 80K. Because we were sharing the beamtime with other users from Imperial our slot didn’t start until about 8.30 in the evening.
Thanks to the very good offices of Matt Brown, who knows everything about everything happening in London, I found myself at the Smithfield Gallery last night. Jenny, Richard and myself joined Matt there to gaze at Luke Jerram’s artful glassy virus sculptures.
Flags are potent and emotive symbols for many people but when my daughter plonked her new school-bag on the kitchen counter at the beginning of this week I cracked a wry smile. Love that Union flag? My reaction to the garish decoration of her bag made me realise what a long way I had travelled from my own childhood, a journey that has been at least partly influenced by science.