About Jenny
By day: cell biologist at UCL. By night: novelist, broadcaster, science writer, sci-lit-art pundit, blogger and Editor of LabLit.com. I blog about my life in science, not the facts and figures.
-
Recent Posts
Recent Comments
- rpg on In which we struggle: mental health in higher education
- Jennifer Rohn on In which no scientist is an island – but that’s what we signed up for
- Henry Gee on In which no scientist is an island – but that’s what we signed up for
- Brigitte on In which sadness serves a purpose
- rpg on In which we tell a story: on metaphors in science and life
Archives
Categories
- Academia
- Art
- Careers
- Domestic bliss
- Epidemics
- Gardening
- Ham radio
- Health and safety gone mad
- Illness
- Joshua
- Kit
- LabLit
- Media
- Music
- Nostalgia
- Obituaries
- Policy
- Politics
- Recruitment
- Research
- Science fiction
- science funding
- Science is Vital
- Science journalism
- Science talking
- Scientific method
- Scientific papers
- Scientific thinking
- Silliness
- Staring into the abyss
- Stereotypes
- Students
- Teaching
- The ageing process
- The profession of science
- Uncategorized
- Women in science
- Work/life balance
- Writing
Meta
Monthly Archives: February 2011
In which I ask my due
When has good writing become such a cheap commodity that people seem reluctant to pay for it? I still remember the first piece of proper science writing I ever did. The year was 2003, the place was Amsterdam, and my … Continue reading
Posted in Nostalgia, Writing
59 Comments
In which I wait for spring to come
Dusk was already falling, along with a light drizzle, earlier this afternoon as I pushed brown ovoid objects repeatedly into heavy wet earth. Carelessly dressed against the cold, my muddy fingertips going numb, I worked the trowel and hoped I … Continue reading
Posted in Domestic bliss, Gardening
32 Comments
In which the truth hurts – or does it?
As crocuses push through muddy earth, the air softens on campus and the undergraduates wake up from hibernation to resume clogging up the pizza queue in the refectory, I feel the weight, yet again, of the swift passage of days … Continue reading

