Bees! Bees, bees, bees!

Yes, there it is, we've had the call! The fulfilment of a lifelong obsession! A little late in the year, but there was a swarm to collect and we went. Jon swaddled up from head to toe, climbed a ladder to try and get the swarm from 15 foot up a large tree. Then he remembered there was a hole in the crotch of his trousers. Poor Jon. He'll get better.

We only got half the swarm, because apparently bees are a bit stupid. We left the box all night in the hope of some early risers realising their error, but to no avail. If we left them too long they'd swarm someplace else, so we had to make do. The following morning Jon sealed the cardboard box and drove home while I cleared the area, set up the hive and carried 8 rather weighty brieze blocks down the hill to the hive site. I feel I had the raw end of the deal!

However, it meant that all was ready to go when Jon got back, and the bees could be "firmly tapped" onto the awaiting blanket leading up to the hive...

...where hopefully they smell the beeswax and see the darkness and say "I want to go to there"

I try to take videos while Jon keeps repeating "please let there be a queen here". I then get photobombed by a bee (0:39 on the video).

 

We are beekeepers! Also, bee suits are for wimps ;-)

Passive housing

Whilst driving to a conference a few weeks back, I caught the beginning of an episode of Costing the Earth on Radio 4. The subject: self-heating homes.

It was definitely worth the wait in inspiration terms - and I recommend a listen here. I have long dreamed of building my own house, and with rising heating bills, the prospect of a house that requires minimal energy input is very tempting.

For me, the most shocking statistic in the programme was that 27% of our carbon emissions in the UK come from heating our homes. This is the result of poorly insulated housing - and you only have to look at 1960s prefab homes to understand why. Much of UK housing is cheap and cheerful - we tend to see our homes more as investments, as a step on the property ladder, so we tend to settle for the housing that is made for us, rather than investing the effort and hours to really make them our own.

The problem here is that building developers have absolutely no long-term interest in the houses they produce; as long as they look nice and sell well it's a job well done. Never mind the long-term heating costs (or future flood risk for that matter). When you design and build a house yourself you are more likely to invest in its insulation as it is you that will reap the rewards in the long run.

The dream is 'passive housing': the house that heats itself, requiring no (or minimal) input. Surprise, surprise, it's the Germans who are developing it. Some stereotypes exist for a reason (sometimes I seriously wonder if I should emigrate). The question remains: how to incorporate these ideas into existing UK housing. I for one will be keeping an ear to the ground.

Learned Societies

This article was originally written for Cambio Ltd. on 13 March 2013. Access it here.

Learned societies are one of the mysteries associated with the academic world. In the first months of my PhD I distinctly remember my supervisors brainstorming the societies I should join during a meeting. Being unfamiliar with the concept I sat meekly by, nodding in agreement and writing things down, but I had never come across learned societies as anything more than the organisations that produced scientific journals. Why would I want to pay money to join one?

Well, there are many reasons, but the most obvious is conferences. Most societies have one of these each year, and as a member you generally get reduced registration rates.  This alone is a pretty good reason to join. As a student they are a really good way of building your confidence, getting used to how they work, and meeting people who work in your field (see previous post), and normally carry the benefit of a further reduced rate for under- and post- graduate students. If you’re lucky, the society may also subsidise your transport and/or accommodation.

On this theme, a very cynical reason to join a society is grants. These are often available to students not only for conference attendance, but to support travel to another lab for research experience or to attend meetings. Do be aware though that their availability varies between organisations. Societies sometimes award prizes to promising early career scientists as well, and can often point you to other sources of funding for various activities.

Another standard benefit is the member’s magazine. I find these a really good way of finding out what’s going on in my field – both in research and events held at various venues. I also find they’re a really good way of finding out who you need to talk to about certain aspects of your research! If you’re lucky they occasionally do an issue that seems to focus entirely on your research area, or contain detailed information on how to carry out a certain technique. There is also the added bonus that you occasionally find yourself or your group mentioned, which is always good for motivation!

The last (and in my opinion the best) reason for joining has to be the opportunities available for developing your skills, which by and large are communicated by e-mail or through social media. Science fairs, courses, competitions… there is a huge range of opportunities to be had if you want to develop your CV in this way. Since joining my array of societies I have had the good fortune to attend several science communication training days and a week-long GRADschool course, contribute to monthly magazines and online blogs, record podcasts and attend some really exciting events – all subsidised by the societies. Granted these bear testimony to my passion for science communication, but there are plenty of other ways you can develop your own special abilities.

Even if your supervisor doesn’t advise you to join some societies I really recommend you do – you’ll learn a ton, and almost certainly get your money’s worth!

'Tis the season to be collecting molehills!

Following my general disgust with the state of peat-free compost available from garden centres, Jon and I have determined to make our own seedling compost this year.

The key to seedling compost is a fine texture that allows seedlings to push down their roots, good water holding capacity so they don't dry out, and a good amount of potassium (i.e. potash - i.e. ash) to give the roots the oomph they need to get going. Seedlings really don't need much else.

So we are attempting something new: combining coir, worm compost, ash and molehills.

Molehills? I hear you say.

Well yes. A friend recommended this to me as molehills are composed of lovingly excavated soil from a depth at which the soil is pretty clean - i.e. free of weed seeds. The result is crumbly soil containing lots of lovely bacteria and nutrients which will bulk out your seedling mix.

The worm compost was from the first batch of 'black gold' from the bottom level of our wormery. Man those little guys have been hard at work. It's beautiful stuff.

The coir we get from Oxfam - it comes in a solid package about the size of a standard brick, costing £2.50. You soak it in water and the result is a builder's bucket of lovely coir compost whose transport has required a whole lot less fossil fuels than a hydrated sack from the garden centre. I imagine this would be a brilliant job for kids to do - it's like those expanding travel flannels on a massive scale.

As for the ash? Well, that comes from me burning our old bank statements, car insurance documents etc. Waste not, want not.

So far, no unexpected fungi. DO try this at home!

5 top conference tips for PhD students

This article was orginally published by Cambio Ltd. on 20-02-2013. Access it here.

Whilst speaking to a final year student recently, I learned that she is soon to attend her first scientific conference. How she has managed to sneak under her supervisor’s radar this long I’m not sure, perhaps she’s even better than me at avoiding e-mails inviting abstracts for conferences.
A conversation ensued that made me realise that a) I’ve been to too many conferences and b) that this means I have acquired some useful knowledge. So I thought I would share some of it here…

1. Submitting an abstract
If this is your first conference, then the chances are you’ll either have winged it in with no responsibilities, or your supervisor has persuaded you to submit a poster. Whilst ‘submitting an abstract’ sounds intimidating, this is really a polite way of determining if your research will fit into the conference’s scope. So read the information they give you and make sure you tailor what you write to the conference’s scope, especially if it’s a slightly different audience than you normally engage with. There’s no point churning out acronyms and jargon terms to an audience unfamiliar with them!

TOP TIP? Make sure you make your research sounds interesting. If you can use the words ‘cancer’, ‘obesity’, ‘sustainability’ or ‘climate change’ so much the better.

2. The poster session
Having spent hours slaving over your poster, it will probably be hung on a numbered board. At some point in the proceedings you will be required to spend a period of time standing awkwardly by your poster attempting to persuade passers-by to read it. If you are lucky you are part of a large research consortium which means you have an audience for your poster; you may succeed in partaking in some interesting chats about your research. Otherwise you can clutch your cup of tea whilst glaring daggers at posters whose subject is more photogenic than yours or chuckling smugly at the posters whose designer clearly didn’t read the poster specifications and are thus too big/ too small/ the wrong orientation and hanging awkwardly off the sides of the board.

TOP TIP? Don’t sweat it, it’ll be fine. Next year you’ll have to do a talk…

3. Socialising
Last year there was a general consensus in a lab meeting that we would all attend a particular conference, one of the larger ones in our field. I dutifully submitted an abstract and applied for a grant. I booked my train ticket and arranged for the cat to be fed while I was away. About a month beforehand I discovered that no one else had actually got round to registering, so I would be Billy no-mates for the three day duration. Sob.

As it turned out this was a complete blessing. When I got my conference pack in the post I highlighted sessions with less enthusiasm than normal, but when I arrived I found it much easier to do what I wanted without feeling swayed to stay with the collective. Having no one to chat with also forced me to mingle much more widely, and I ended up making a few very good contacts which developed into some fantastic highlights on my CV. It also meant that any fear I may have had about socialising was well and truly conquered. Being able to eat obscene volumes of prawn tempura without being judged was also a plus.

TOP TIP? Make sure you get the most out of your conference, even if it means abandoning your colleagues from time to time. Go forth and mingle!

4. Eating
This is perhaps one of my least favourite aspects of conferences. While I am a great fan of food, I am not a fan of attempting to balance a plate of mini quiches, salad and sausage rolls whilst attempting to make polite conversation with people who may potentially affect my future employment prospects. Spraying someone with crumbs or getting lettuce stuck in my teeth are very real possibilities that fill me with dread. Personally I prefer to eat whilst pretending to peruse posters before attempting potentially important conversations.

TOP TIP? If such a conversation is unavoidable avoid salad (they never cut it to mouth-sized pieces, resulting in unflattering mouth-cramming situations), and garlic (for obvious reasons) at all costs.

5. Drinking
I have yet to work this one out. On one hand, alcohol is often supplied free for the obvious purpose of persuading scientists to socialise. However, it is a fine balance between getting your money’s worth and acting like an inebriated idiot in front of potential future employers. Whilst there is every chance that they may chuckle at the foibles of PhD life, there is also the possibility of unexpectedly meeting them at an interview. Answers on a postcard please!

TOP TIP? If you’re not attending with your lab buddies, remember to make some friends during the conference. This makes liberating the leftover wine at the end much less socially awkward

Happy New Year!

This article was orginally published for Cambio Ltd. on 14-01-2013. Access it here.

So it’s the beginning of a new year and once more the department is filled with slightly dazed postgrads, harried looking lecturers and technical staff who look as if they haven’t missed a beat. The kitchen sink is once more filled with coffee grounds, and the lab fridge, cleaned before the Christmas break, is beginning to fill up with unlabelled tubes and iffy-smelling cultures. My supervisor arrives looking uncharacteristically relaxed and tells us to have a laid-back week. Facebook tells me I have graduated from the university, and I have a little cry.

                      

I take some data over to my main supervisor who surprises me by saying that she thinks there’s a paper in it, and that she thinks I can submit my thesis in September. My response to each was a somewhat incredulous “really?” with the latter drawing the additional comment “what, this September?!” My writing up plan has suddenly undergone something of a seismic shift. Being finished in less than nine months is both thrilling and utterly terrifying. Eeek!
 
Sadly this means I have rapidly developed final-year syndrome, which is characterised by long days in the lab, implausible multitasking and a slightly crazed expression. The sudden realisation that after 27 months wondering wandering in the wilderness, the end is now actually in sight. By my supervisor’s calculations I can have my practical work finished by the end of April and then start writing. Needless to say I did not have a laid-back week!

I can see why my department is so keen to have PhD’s concluded within 3 years. In my previous jobs projects lasted for a set time, and then reached a natural conclusion: I submitted the report, I sent the materials to the printers, I hosted the meeting. In contrast, any scientific research has the tendency to resemble an unmeasured length of twine, and it takes experience to judge where to draw a line and publish before moving on.

As an inexperienced scientist I do not yet possess this skill and so am reliant on my supervisor’s experience to judge it for me. Having a deadline helps. It dawns on me just how important having guidance is in completing. In its absence I can see why some friends have taken 5-6 years to submit: there is always one more experiment that can be done. But does it really contribute to your research, or is it just preventing you from finishing anything?

Allotment - annual review

In the 4 months since we moved allotment we have spread cardboard and 4 tonnes of compost, moved as many of our perennial plants between allotments as we could handle and attempted a new plan with regard what to grow and how to grow it this year.

I have also been laid in to by a grumpy old man about fly tipping (when the allotment was covered in cardboard and tyres), had our nice new cloches stolen and lost a whole lot of chard to some sort of critter (my money's on deer). Not to mention that I've had more than a few arguments with Jon about how to do things on the allotment - he just won't do things my way, tch!

Having an allotment is truly a labour of love. There is no way I could put up with all the heartbreak and ill feeling otherwise. When slugs eat your entire onion crop, or rubbish compost lays waste to whole trays of seedlings it can be hard to get back to the patch and just keep going.

But keep going we have. It's been an interesting year and I've learned a few new things, which will be incorporated into our growing plans for this year...

1. We are not going to bother trying to grow tomatoes, peppers or aubergines from seed again. We just don't have the knack. We generally only need a couple of each, and for the time and money (and stress!) that goes into producing sufficient plants it's actually cheaper and less stressful to buy them.

2. Onions grow well from seed, but not when you crank the central heating up. This was our my own stupid fault, as our nice cool plant nursery got turned into a nice warm office while I did my PhD transfer report. The consequence was that they didn't grow too well (unsurprisingly). I will repeat the experiment this year but this time keep them in the poly house outside rather than inside on a window ledge. Ah, the luxury of having a yard now!

3. Beans and peas are where it's at. As far as I'm concerned, after salads this was where we saved the most money, and improved the diversity of our diet the most. This year we will be growing plenty more. Sub-lessons include learning that our yellow mange tout gets enormous and needs as much support as the runner beans; and remembering to harvest pea seeds before they split and sproing everywhere!

4. Garlic and broad beans are best sown in the winter. We tried both winter and spring plantings, and the difference was huge - having the extra growing time in November and December really gave them a head start, and we were picking broad beans by May. The spring planted garlic wasn't anywhere near ready and got left for the subsequent year.

5. Conversely, and perhaps unsurprisingly, onions sets do not thrive if planted before winter.

6. Don't make your beds too big. You just can't get into them to weed, and you lose loads of plants as a result. It's much better to have more, smaller beds which are easier to access.

7. When you are allocated an allotment and they offer to rotavate it - DON'T DO IT!! It looks lovely at first, but considering that the previous occupant will probably have let it run a bit wild before it got taken off them, the seed 'bank' (i.e. the store of seeds in the soil) will be enormous. All you will do is allow a large number of weed seeds the necessary light to germinate which will give you a massive problem later on.

With this in mind, it is onward to a new growing season!