Archive for the ‘nostalgia’ Category

Posted on May 5, 2008 - by MG

My one and only Boris Johnson story

Boris as I remember him at Oxford. A million pounds says he doesn’t remember me.

So Boris is finally Mayor of London, eh? Surely a preface to David Cameron taking over as Prime Minister in the next couple of years. Which means that finally, my contemporaries at Oxford will have taken over the country.

I worry about this slightly because I am pretty sure I wouldn’t be much good at running the country; not nearly old enough or wise enough and I know that I’m probably as smart as some of those guys, although possibly not Boris, who really is very clever indeed.

So this is the time to tell my one and only Boris Johnson story. It isn’t very good, I’m warning you. But it’s the only one I’ve got.

Boris was in the year above me at Oxford. Our paths didn’t cross because he was in the Rich Beautiful Ambitious Talented People Who Went To The Right Schools And Will One Day Run The Country set and I was in the Bright Grammar School Kids Who Will End Up Running Universities And Businesses set.

Anyway. My then-boyfriend-now-husband was another grammar school oik like me, and a chemistry student to boot. (The only way to be lower in the social ranking at Oxford would have been to have to study hard to get by, since apparently effortless academic excellence is the only way to distinguish the kind of kids who get top grades at A level anyway.) Boyfriend was a member of the Oxford Union, not a students union but the famous debating society that was the University training ground of many of Britain’s top politicians.

Boyfriend and I very, very occasionally played chess together in the bar at the Union. Once we were playing after a debate. Boris, then the Secretary of the Union – this was the year before he became President of the Oxford Union, and another Union officer came into the bar from the debating room, still resplendent in white tie. They took their drinks and proceeded to watch Boyfriend and I play chess.

Now at this point you need to realise that neither of us can actually play chess. I mean we obviously know the mechanics of the moves, but that’s it. So we are playing. Boris and his prematurely aged fellow Union officer (who was about 22 but seemed around 32) watch with growing interest, starting to comment quietly to each other about our tactics.

We grow tense, aware of their scrutiny. Their interest grows all the more. We study the board furiously. I’m vaguely aware that you have to try to plan some moves ahead. I start to think one or two moves ahead, then three, then four, and my head hurts. Boyfriend keeps his cool a bit longer than me. I crack under the pressure and make a move, any move. Boyfriend does the same. Boris and pal seem surprised, then disappointed. Boris wanders off. Boris’s aged young friend comes over to us and comments that the game had looked extremely exciting, we were both in such very strong positions, we looked like two very strong players…and his voice tails off. We smile enigmatically, saying nothing. What remains politely unsaid is the final part of Young Fogey’s assessment…”but actually you’re both a bit rubbish, aren’t you?”

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not cross about this and never was. On the contrary, I was proud to have impressed the already-famous-in-Oxford Boris Johnson even for a few minutes. Even if he was disillusioned. I actually felt sorry to let him down. He had already provided me with hours of entertainment with his amazing oratory and humour at the dispatch box of the Oxford Union. I didn’t always agree with him or even understand what he was saying, being a Scientist Of Very Narrow Focus.

But it was always clear to me that he was brilliant; possibly the most brilliant student I ever came across at Oxford.

Which is saying something because Oxford prides itself on having some smart cookies. Even so the supersmart and brilliant ones stood out a mile.

But can they actually run a country? I guess we’re going to find out…

Posted on April 25, 2008 - by MG

The immune system kicks a**

Antigen presentation – the central tenet of immunology. Didn’t make any sense to me until I saw the crystal structures of MHC I, and the T-Cell receptor.

I emerged into the outside world today full the kind of renewed energy that only a post-viral recovery gives you.

The immune system is an amazing thing. Even moreso when you have some knowledge of how it works. I remember when they published the crystal structure of the Major Histocompatibility Complex I protein bound to a peptide antigen. Luckily for me this was the year that I took biochemistry finals at Oxford. I’d never understood the scientific evidence for molecular immunology properly until I actually saw those molecules interacting.

I’m just not good enough of an abstract thinker. The cellular evidence just befuddled me. I had to see something in 3D before I could catch on.

Immune system, amazing, hence I have made a whole load of antibodies and cytotoxic T-cells and other cell and molecular weapons and totally kicked that viruses ass and cleared it out of my system. And if anything like that comes round again, my B-cells will give it what for…

Oxford was warm and filled with shoppers, students and tourists. I heard some Brazilians speaking Portuguese and it cheered the part of me that still wants to be in Sao Miguel do Gostoso. I dropped into Waterstones and was relieved to see that ‘Invisible City’ survived the recent cull of children’s books on display in the window. Still on display and in the 3-for-2! Lots of books for older readers have been put aside to make way for picture books and other things for younger kiddies. Finally I share a window display with the wonderful Axel Scheffler!

Posted on April 1, 2008 - by MG

With Deep Anger And Resentment

I’ve only once been to a booksigning. My favourite authors hardly ever visit Oxford (two of them, never, what with being deceased). When they do it’s probably as an honoured High Table guest at one of the colleges rather than a humble book signing session.

But once, I did have a chance to meet a literary hero, none other than Douglas Adams, author of “The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide To The Galaxy”.

I may have mentioned before what a total fangirl I am and always have been. I was actually a member of ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha, the HHGTTG fan club, once… (John Lloyd, producer of the original radio show and later, via QI.com, a customer of my IT company, gave me a hug when I told him that!). So when I had my chance to have Douglas Adams (or as he’s known to the fan community, ‘Bop Ad’) actually sign his latest book, I of course included some obscure reference to the BBC radio show. And asked him to sign my copy of ‘So Long And Thanks For All The Fish’ with the words:

With deep anger and resentment.

Well, it won a smile from dear old Bop, who was kept busy all afternoon that day in Blackwell’s.

Posted on March 23, 2008 - by MG

Bioscience Nostalgia

Every so often I get all nostalgic for molecular biology. Ah, they were good days, so much work to do that you hardly had time to think about anything but science.

I found some videos on YouTube which made me smile. This has got nothing to do with Joshua Files, btw, but if you’ve half an interest in science geek humour, and the nostalgic musings of a former scientist then read on…

Here’s the PCR song. It’s from BIO-RAD, the manufacturer of the thermal recycling machine which makes the Polymerase Chain Reaction possible (at least optimal). Lucky BioRad, they had a bright employee named Kary Mullis who when faced with the dilemma that piqued many scientists in the 1980s, didn’t stop thinking. No; he took a long drive up to Marin County (or from…) and thought long and hard about it.

This was the dilemma: We were all using purified enzymes like DNA polymerase to amplify DNA ‘in vitro’ (as in, not in a cell but in a test-tube), but only on a small scale. We weren’t making enough DNA to use in DNA subcloning work or enough to see on a gel with the naked eye. It wasn’t possible.

We all knew that DNA can be replicated simply by melting the two strands, using DNA polymerase to fill in each strand. In theory, if you kept repeating the process 1 molecule would become 2, then 4, 8,16,32,64 etc. But the process of melting the DNA each time would destroy the enzyme. And it was a big hassle to keep swapping the DNA from water baths to ice baths to cycle the process of melting/annealing.

And that’s where most of us stopped thinking.

Kay Mullis, however, remembered that some bacteria exist at high temperatures (e.g. near volcanic vents under the sea), and have heat-stable enzymes. If he could use the DNA polymerase from such a bacteria, it should be possible to invent a machine that would heat-and-cool tubes for the optimum times so that small amounts of DNA could be melted and annealed 20,30,40 times.

And that would seriously amplify the molecules. That would make it possible to eventually detect teeny weeny amounts of DNA.

And so PCR was invented. As an employee Mullis didn’t get rich but he did invent a process that made the lives of all molecular biologists much easier, revolutionised forensic science and paternity suits.

For some reason I only once had a chance to use PCR. In my early days it wasn’t around and later it just wasn’t applicable to what I was researching, until the last month or so. And then I used it to detect a subcloned DNA molecule I’d made the day before. It was the fastest subcloning I ever did and the PCR worked first time, like a dream…and I thought Jeeeez…why wasn’t this around 6 years ago?!

Posted on March 22, 2008 - by MG

Looking for inspiration: Remedios Varo

Some writers like to have a vague idea where they’re going when they write and make it up as they go along, some writers like to spend a great deal of time with the plotting and planning.

I’m one of the planners. I’ve tried it the other way – with me it tends to produce plot structures that lack sufficient impact at the key points. So now, I plan.

But a story also has needs to have some magical, organic quality; something that feels as though it crept in by itself, wasn’t calculated into the mix from the start. Even if actually, it was…

Every writer has their own way of factoring in that magical bit. I suspect we all discover it on our own. Mind-altering substances might do the trick, but that’s a bit risky…

My own ‘method’ came from the realisation that even working to a structured plot, there was still room for movement. So even my ‘finished’ plot plans are in fact only about 85% of the way there.

The last 15% has to be found during the writing. And with me, it is always inspired from outside.

It seems to be something about understanding what makes you tick and connecting something in the story with that.

Without getting too psychoanalytical, we all have something deep down that we really care about and drives us.  Some people are very self-aware; they know what this is…the kind of people who care deeply about politics or religion…are probably going to write books that reflect their thoughts on that.

But if lie me you’re generally vague and mixed-up, it’s a bit more complicated!

However, by accident, I did find the way to extract this magic final 15%. And so far it has worked every time.

I’m not telling though! Nope; that’s going to be my secret.

Here’s a clue though, one thing that inspired me today, in finding the some of the magic 15% for Joshua book 3.

It’s a picture by Remedios Varo, a Mexican artist, a surrealist painter of fantastical works. A close friend of mine in Mexico City introduced me to her work when we were teenagers. I remember a very happy afternoon we spent together in the Museum of Modern Art in Chapultepec looking at these paintings…

The painting above is called Naturaleza Muerta Resucitado which translates as ‘Natural Death Resuscitated’.