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In which my list becomes achievable

Posted on 28 June 2026 by Jennifer Rohn

A wooden trug filled with courgettes, chard and potatoes, with secateurs and a trowel nearby, all on pink and grey patio stones in dappled sunlight.

Finally time to actually enjoy the meal

It never seems as if the academic stress will end, until suddenly, sometime in late June, it just does.

The students disperse for the academic year like fluffy tree pollen on the wind. The final marks are generated, moderated and uploaded; exam boards come and then recede into the past. Teaching noise subsides to low-level signal: letters of reference for master’s programs, open day activities, preparations for the new term. In this new-found quiet, other priorities can finally be heard.

Any scientist with a hefty teaching portfolio will look forward to summer as the chance to regain a small amount of time for research. It’s a bit like your energy bills, which are sky-high in winter, but relatively bearable in the warm months; it doesn’t mean your overall annual burden isn’t scandalously heavy, but you can breathe a bit easier when you aren’t hammering the central heating day in, day out.

For me, the release has not been like a pin popping a balloon, but rather a slow asymptotic hiss along the x-axis. There will always be some low-level of anxiety, but the past week was the first that I looked at my list and could finally start addressing items that had languished for months, patiently and modestly, at the very bottom. Important items with no deadline, meaning that, of course, they’d been perennially overlooked, like the person sitting in the Emergency Department for ten hours with a broken arm while around her, heart attack and stroke victims keep getting wheeled in.

My next major grant (or grants, depending on how I decide to slice the cake) is the most beloved but overlooked list item, finally cresting the top. I’ve been putting in grants all year, of course, and succeeding in many cases, but these have been either smaller bids, or as a module of larger consortium grants. Now, I’ve got my eye one something uniquely mine, substantial enough to keep the wolf from the door for a longer period of time.

Ideas have been bubbling up over the past year, pushed in various directions by my team’s latest results and by what’s been published by others in the field, but I just haven’t had the chance to grapple with them, mould them into shape. I suspect I’ve got two grants here, one either standalone, or a solid module of a more ambitious one. There’s also a third idea that I really want to pursue, but at this stage I’m not sure if it is the priority, should I decide to choose. It’s all very exciting, and during last week’s heat wave, while the trains stalled on their expanded rails, historic temperature records were broken repeatedly, and events were cancelled all over campus, I worked from home in front of the Dyson fan, spending several hours each day on the growing universe of my ideas. It’s a very solitary activity, combing through the literature, gazing at pilot data, resurrecting long-ago scribbled notes and sketches from brainstorms with collaborators, making that first foray to aims, objectives and hypotheses. But of all the work that I am required to do, this type of effort is both the most professorial, and also, the closest to the ideal I signed up for when I first decided I wanted to become a scientist.

Meanwhile on the home front, something similar is happening at this tail end of June. All the major frenetic chores of early spring and summer are past: the sowing, the nurturing, the potting on, the planting out, the constant vigilance towards tender seedlings against pests and weeds. Now, aside from watering, everything is more or less self-sufficient, spooling out with the usual inevitability. The soft fruits are peaking: raspberries, redcurrants, strawberries, gooseberries, blackcurrants. Courgettes lengthen, and we deep-fry their flowers. Lettuce, kale, chard, pak choi and beets are ready to harvest; chilis, tomatillos and tomatoes set and ripen. We dig up new potatoes, and await the peas and beans. On the trees, the cherries are past, along with the honeyberries and serviceberries, but apples, pears, plums, figs, hazelnuts, sweet chestnuts and blackberries swell on the branch. The grapevines send out tendrils in real time, unfurling hundreds of bunches of baby bunches all over the estate, while the parsnips and pumpkins bide their time, waiting for colder days. The bees fill their combs will honey, with minimum input from the clumsy white-clad humans who occasionally inspect their handiwork. My container flowers on the patio spill over with blooms.

With all the heavy industry behind me, I can now sit out back this weekend in a deck chair and just enjoy it: a list item I can seldom indulge in when there is gardening to do on top of academic chores. The heat has eased and the trees wave in the cool breeze. I read a novel. Fountains tinkle, the hens cluck, birds squabble at the feeders or sing, invisible, from within the foliage. All is dreamy and green, and Sunday doesn’t have that edge of pre-Monday dread. There are exactly 12 items on my list tomorrow, short enough to fit on a post-it note.

For once, I’ve got this.

Posted in academia, Domestic bliss, Gardening, Research, Scientific thinking, Teaching, The profession of science, work-life balance | Leave a comment

A Man of the People?

Posted on 21 June 2026 by Athene Donald

In the run-up to the recent Makerfield by-election, I saw comments to the effect that Andy Burnham couldn’t be the ‘man of the people’ he claimed to be, because he had been educated at Fitzwilliam College in Cambridge. A remark like that implies that all the outreach work the University and all its constituent colleges do is pointless. That whether you came from a millionaire’s family and went to Eton, or were in care from an early age, coming from a dysfunctional family and going to the local comprehensive, you are equally a toff as soon as you set foot through an Oxbridge door. It is, of course, nonsense.

The role of any college is to give those whom they admit the best opportunity to achieve their potential. Those who came from Eton have many advantages that the comprehensive kid lacks (even knowing which cutlery to use for which course at formal dinners can be a strain for the latter; the former may not even notice it could be a challenge). An undergraduate in Oxbridge does not lose their background because they have entered a new world. There are of course many kids who go to Cambridge who carry with them a great deal of entitlement, which they then take on with them into later life. In Oxford, MPs from the Bullingdon Club seem to exemplify this issue. But that doesn’t mean you can write off every individual who went to Fitzwilliam or any of the other 30 Cambridge Colleges. That is merely simplistic, media laziness to promote such an attitude.

Do those people who automatically scoff at those who went to Oxbridge regardless of their background, have a pecking order of which universities allow you still to claim you have a disadvantaged background? Does UCL sit above or below this line? What about St Andrews? Fiona Hill, currently Chancellor of Durham University, is an interesting example of an alumna from this ancient Scottish University. She has written movingly about it in her 2021 book There is Nothing for you here: finding opportunity in the 21st century. She went to St Andrews University from a disadvantaged family background in a run-down former mining village outside Bishop Auckland, to a place where she said she felt very out of her depth. Of her background she said

‘Having aspirations wasn’t normal – or perhaps it just seemed pointless when you were unlikely to escape poverty or ever leave County Durham.’

As she put it, when she arrived she was surrounded by hordes of students who seemed to know what they were doing.

‘They were coasting along. They seemed to know everything. They exuded confidence. I was filled with self-doubt every time they spoke in class. They knew things I didn’t even know I should know. They sounded intelligent. I sounded hesitant.’

She did not have an easy time at St Andrews. In one case, a much posher student (who had attended the private and expensive Cheltenham Ladies College, no doubt another place which encourages a sense of entitlement) accused her of unfair tactics to get a good mark:

‘Did you sleep with [the tutor]? How could you have done so well? You’re just a common northerner.’

As this shows, bias comes in many forms, and it’s usually unpleasant. It is hard to imagine that any of Hill’s contemporaries went on to have more successful careers than she herself achieved: she became an official at the U.S. National Security Council when she was a presidential advisor to Donald Trump in his first term, specializing in Russian and European affairs. This same excelling over his contemporaries is likely to be true of Andy Burnham at Fitzwilliam, although it seems unlikely anyone accused him of sleeping with his tutor in order to get on, given common attitudes to double standards between men and women.

Too often, people want to put other people in boxes. It’s just another form of stereotyping, but like all such it is lazy and based on simplistic assumptions. A ‘common northerner’ could not be imagined by some to be competent in Hill’s case. For Burnham, that he studied at Cambridge eradicates his Liverpool roots. I know nothing about his upbringing, but he certainly – as Manchester Mayor – has made it clear he does not only represent the so-called metro-elite, even if inevitably he is seen as now belonging to it.

As I write, the likelihood of Burnham becoming Prime Minister shortly seems to be rising fast. Given my own interests and activities around education and skills, I will be watching with interest to see whether nationally he expresses as much interest in FE as he has within Manchester. Will this be done with actual funding or just warm words? What difference will it make to Alan Milburn’s recommendations around NEETs? Although they did not overlap in the Cabinet, they certainly overlapped as MPs. Time will tell how much control he might give to devolved regions to sort out their education system to fit the local economy, as he had wanted to do when he talked about an MBacc, wanting to create a qualification that he felt would serve local needs more than the national (and now out-dated) EBacc.

We need diversity in perspectives in Government as everywhere else. It is important that not all judges or MPs, for instance, have identical backgrounds, and I’m not denying that an Oxbridge education is typically a good one and is likely to convey advantages on their graduates, sometimes simply because employers take an Oxbridge degree as a crude form of credentialing. But one’s roots matter too, roots in terms of geography as well as ‘class’ or financial circumstances. All of these factors will impact on perspectives and need to be recognized as separate aspects of an individual. We live, as they say, in interesting times but please, media folk, can we avoid lazy stereotyping!

Posted in Andy Burnham, careers, education, Fiona Hill, Manchester, Oxbridge, stereotyping | Leave a comment

Alex

Posted on 17 June 2026 by Richard Wintle

Jenny’s recent post about mental health in higher education seems, unfortunately, very timely. Seven months after the fact, I’ve learned that a singer, songwriter, and social worker I know has died. While I am privy to a few details, I don’t know much. She did speak openly about her own struggles with bipolar disorder, and you may, I suppose, make some inferences based on that.

In any case, here – for what it may be worth, and I hope the answer is “something helpful” – are a few words and a photograph. Alex McCulloch, friends.

 

“I have been in love, I’ve traveled, I’ve made art and I’ve helped people. Remember me as an artist, a lover, a friend, a niece, a sister and a daughter.”

Alex McCulloch, Rod Gun & Barbers

Alex McCulloch – a talented singer, songwriter, and performer – died one day after her 30th birthday, on October 20, 2025. I only knew her a little, through shows I went to at some well-known Toronto music venues. A staple on both Danforth Avenue and Queen Street West, Alex is missed by her audience, her friends and family, and the network of musicians that she knew, performed with, and supported.

I first met Alex in May of 2022. I’d gone to the Free Times Café to see folk musician Zack Elliott. As a bonus, Jessica Spurrell, filling in for an ailing Jessie Gosling, was also on the bill. The third act was Alex, completely unknown to me – and a revelation. A singer with a big voice and bigger words. I learned over the ensuing years that while she frequently surrounded herself with other talented musicians, she could also hold a room by herself – voice, guitar, and those songs that dipped into many personal experiences. In hindsight, it seems that some of those words described parts of her life that may have contributed to its end.

Alex leaves a legacy of astonishing music, full of incisive, clever wordplay and beautiful melodies. Her voice could slide, seemingly without effort, between raspy and silky-smooth. Her lyrics often blended the angular, rhythmic rhyming of hip-hop with the poignant poetry of the best folk music. Think Eminem-meets-Joni Mitchell, and you’re in the right ballpark. Drum Circle and Silver Spoon, both from her last EP Gord, are among the best examples. I suggest that you listen to those, and then dig deeper into her catalogue. You won’t be disappointed.

No-one, I suspect, can know what led Alex to the end of her life. What is left are the memories of those who knew her, and that astonishing body of songs, which should forever continue to be worth our attention. There is more information here, including an opportunity to donate to the National Alliance on Mental Illness, should you wish to.

Goodbye, Alex. I’m sorry you left us so soon, and I hope you’ve found peace. Thank you for your songs, your fearless words, your willingness to give them your voice, and your genuine happiness to see me when I made the effort to show up. I’m glad there are pictures left to look at, and songs we can listen to.

Posted in Alex McCulloch, mental health, Music, musician, singer, songwriter | Leave a comment

Victims and Perpetrators

Posted on 13 June 2026 by Athene Donald

Some readers may have noticed in the media, recent (separate) reports that two Fellows of Kings College, Cambridge, have resigned/been stripped of their fellowship due to allegations of harassment and misconduct.  I haven’t seen any particular details about the accusations, and that isn’t really the point of what follows. Both the men concerned are ones with whom I’ve crossed paths, although they are not ones who’ve ever given me, personally, any trouble. I did know one of them had a reputation for ‘wandering hands’. However, when I think back to the not so-distant past, there are several men in my University whose behaviour I fear has strayed beyond the professional, in ways I find extraordinary at my ripe old age. It indicates that harassment of different kinds is still flourishing here, and no doubt in most universities up and down the country.

More than ten years ago I described one particular unsavoury individual. The fact was he was extremely senior, and the powers-that-be did not want to admit he was a serial harasser, as he undoubtedly was. And was well-known to be. He is someone who said to me at a reception for the University in one of the royal palaces that he ‘did like kissing games’ and prepared to act it out, despite me attempting to retreat as fast as I could. It was not the venue to create a scene. Perhaps even more surprising was his choice to drape himself all over me at a dinner with the VC sitting across from us. She did nothing. Have I mentioned I believe such inaction amounts to being complicit before? Although that previous post about being complicit was more concerned with observing bullying than harassment, the same comment applies. Inaction in the face of someone else being demeaned, bullied, harassed or attacked by any means other than pure scholarly argument, is a failure on the part of the observer.

The man I am describing in the last paragraph held a particularly exalted position within the University. His successor in that role, I’m afraid, I’ve also had cause to complain about. This was brought back to mind when, loading a talk onto a USB stick recently, I found a copy of the letter I wrote to him. In fact, I’d handwritten the letter and scanned it for a record as a pdf, carefully not keeping it on my laptop (always uploaded to the Cloud). I wanted to highlight his bad behaviour, but without advertising this more broadly by allowing others to access it. In due course I got a (handwritten) response, with something of an apology included. So far, so good. Did it change his behaviour – again my complaint was of him draping himself around me inappropriately and publicly? Who knows. What is it about that particular role and that academic discipline that lets the influential leaders believe such behaviour is acceptable?

In both cases these were men in powerful positions, who no doubt held the fate of many of their junior colleagues in their hands. This is what really troubles me. If you are a young researcher (typically the victim will be female), and a man in authority chooses to behave inappropriately, what are you supposed to do? Slap him and tell him not to be so silly? That is something I have never yet managed to have the nerve to do, but another female professor told me this was how she treated the first perpetrator I mention. Good for her, but it didn’t change his behaviour in general and it’s not something a twenty-something academic will do (let alone an undergraduate).

Furthermore, to go back to the two recent examples which hit the news that I mentioned in the opening paragraph, knowing that someone has a reputation of ‘wandering hands’ is insufficient to act. It’s simply hearsay. As a young academic I did once act in that way. I went to the then head of department and said I’d been told a professor in the department did such things as get his secretary to sit on his knee so he could fondle her. Said head of department was sufficiently shocked he immediately went and dressed down the professor and told him if he ever did that again he’d be sacked. None of that would be permissible these days. I had no direct evidence myself, it was all hearsay, and no enquiry was ever instigated by HR. However, it was probably an effective way to deal with wandering-hands-syndrome and one we have lost in the general tightening up of HR policies.

In the cases of the two Kings Fellows, they were both at the end of their careers, one had long been retired before this all hit the news (and I don’t know what had finally tipped the balance to this coming out into the public). One has to assume they had been ‘misbehaving’ throughout their careers. People might say, as they did to me when I publicly complained about one of the perpetrators I suffered at the hands of, ‘it was all different then’. It was of course. Back in the days when I was Master of Churchill College, another head of house admitted that when she’d been an undergraduate, one of her supervisors had done things that these days would be utterly unacceptable without any shame, and she had not thought anything of it then and would never have wanted to complain.

But, power imbalances mean that someone can be both flattered by such behaviour from a senior academic, and that it can be totally traumatic and remain as a shadow in the mind of the undergraduate permanently. I’ve heard moving accounts of long-ago undergraduates who experienced shocking behaviour from those in authority, including a (consensual) affair, which they only felt able to disclose after the death of the perpetrator. One woman wrote to me about her experiences at the hands of a lately deceased male academic and said it was ‘cathartic’ to talk about this decades on.

So, maybe it was different then, but it doesn’t alter the fact that any woman encountering such behaviour now is still placed in the quandary: what do I do? Is complaining ‘worth it’? There are plenty of accounts in the media of people who have complained and their institutions have not been able to handle the complaints in ways that don’t make the complainant feel worse, put through a long-running purgatory of an investigation which may end up going nowhere; with the victim wretched and the perpetrator allowed to continue in their professional role. The only potential protection is for others to tackle the bad behaviour when seen – and so often it will not be. Academia is only worse than other sectors because the power imbalances are more significant. One has to hope that the women (I’m assuming in the plural) who suffered at the hands of the two Kings Fellows, feel some sense of closure with the loss of the fellowships they both have now suffered. I fear it is too little too late.

Posted in bad behaviour, complicit, harassment, Science Culture, Women in science | Leave a comment

In which we struggle: mental health in higher education

Posted on 12 June 2026 by Jennifer Rohn

It is no secret to anyone who works in a UK university that our students are struggling: statistics from 2010-2011 suggest nearly 6% have reported a mental health condition. Confidential surveys reveal a much higher number; for example nearly 60% disclosed a mental health issue in 2002.

This is a worrisome plague for any academic who works closely with students and cares deeply about their plight. But I sometimes worry that amidst this tsunami of student distress, another storm is brewing which is less recognised and for which the mitigations are much less developed.

I am referring to issues amongst us academics ourselves. A recent survey on the mental health of higher education staff concluded that their mental wellbeing was poorer that what is seen on average in other professions. Nearly 80% felt that their mental health was not viewed to be as important for the university as productivity, with the same proportion saying they needed to “work very intensively often or always” and about half, facing unrealistic time pressures “often or always”. (I am surprised by the latter figure – who are these mythical 50% who do not?)

Anyone within the system will feel the truth behind these statistics, and will know someone who is struggling (or will be struggling themselves).

Meanwhile, a recent government report emphasised that many UK universities are in serious financial trouble, the obvious remedy for which is to admit more students. Yet if increased student numbers are not balanced by more academic staff, they just become straws heaped onto the camel’s back. Unfortunately, the opposite is happening: academic staff are actually being cut.

Like everyone else, I’m feeling the pressure. In fact, approaching a 20-year anniversary at my current university, I can’t remember any period when I felt more overworked and stressed: everything is more pressured, more critical, closer to breaking point. I know from the back channels and corridor conversations with my colleagues that we are all feeling the pinch, and some of us are struggling more than we might let on in public. In fact, I sense an undercurrent of danger in the current situation, and wonder how long it can go on. The university tries its best, suggesting “wellness initiatives” like growing tomatoes from seed or joining the college choir, but ultimately, the only thing that will quell this epidemic is an easing of workload. And I can’t see that happening anytime soon.

I don’t have any magic solutions. I think if you are struggling, you need to find someone to talk to – a colleague, a friend. Try to form supportive networks. No matter how underwater you may be, take the time to do things for yourself: sleep, read, exercise, be with friends and family. If none of this works, seek professional help, such as it is.

If you yourself are okay, keep an eye on your colleagues – often they hide their struggles, because we are taught early on in our careers not to show weakness or vulnerability. Secure your own mask, and then help others.

I still maintain that, despite everything, academia is one of the best jobs in the world. We are set loose in a garden of the mind and asked to harvest its fruits. Yes, we battle daily with pests and weeds and inclement weather, but every once in a while, something perfect ripens amidst the jungle of chaos, and the whole endeavour has been worth it. We just need to make sure that we can fight the things that stand in our way without losing the sense of curiosity and joy that attracted us to this crazy undertaking in the first place.

Posted in academia, students, The profession of science, work-life balance | Leave a comment

And so, 2025

Posted on 8 June 2026 by Richard Wintle

The now-customary six-month-late “favourite photographs of 2025” list. If anyone is still reading this blog, you’ll have come to expect nothing less (and maybe have been anticipating waiting even longer). As usual, these are also found in this set on Flickr.

April: Kaifeng Millennium City Park
Kaifeng Millennium City Park
Another chance to visit colleagues in Zhengzhou, China, for the International Cerebral Palsy Genomics Consortium meeting. Part of the tremendous hospitality shown by our hosts was a trip to the massive Millennium City Park in nearby Kaifeng, featuring an impressive evening show telling the history of the Northern Song Dynasty.

July: Colton Herta – IndyCar trophy reveal
Trophy Unveil - Toronto Indy 2025
2024 Ontario Honda Dealers Indy Toronto race winner Colton Herta got the media call to be at the unveiling of the 2025 trophy. Although William Ashley and Waterford Crystal will remain as sponsors and trophy providers, with the move in 2026 and beyond of the race from downtown Toronto to suburban Markham, this will I imagine be the last time we’ll see Toronto’s skyline, prominently featuring the CN Tower, in the design. Colton was more than up for this somewhat obviously posed photo.

October: Turkey friend, Norfolk County Fair
Norfolk County Fair 2025
I have long been seeking Peak Poultry Photography. This might not be it, but at least I met a new friend. Good times with good friends (human and otherwise) at the Norfolk County Fair in Simcoe, Ontario, Canada.

October: Llama friend, Norfolk County
Norfolk County Fair 2025
The Norfolk County Fair again. You should always look behind you, just in case there’s a photographer hiding there.

August: Ed Stone, EAT IT! EP release party
Feura - EAT IT! EP release, The Ivy
Talented drummer, singer, and DJ Ed “Stone Beached” Stone backstage at the release party for EAT IT!, an EP released by excellent pop-punk artist Feura. This was my first time photographing at The Ivy, an interesting underground (literally) rehearsal, studio, and live performance space in the Rosedale/Summerhill area of Toronto.

November: Rodeo Time, Royal Agricultural Winter Fair
RAWF 2025
Sunday of the annual Royal Agricultural Winter Fair and Horse Show is Royal Rodeo day. The Canadian Cowgirls precision drill team is always a highlight.

February: Sydney Riley and the Bog Bodies
Sydney Riley and the Bog Bodies, Rec Room Barrie
I’ve photographed powerhouse rock vocalist Sydney Riley on quite a few occasions, and she never disappoints. This is the first time I’ve put her in front of her own name, though. On a bill with headlining punk rock stalwarts The Anti-Queens at The Rec Room in Barrie, Ontario.

July: The start, Ontario Honda Dealers Indy Toronto
Ontario Honda Dealers Indy Toronto - Sunday
Another last-time opportunity at the annual IndyCar race. Access to Turn 3 has become increasingly tricky over the years, and this was the last time I’d have the chance to make my way there. It’s a great spot to see the pack charging down Lakeshore, and maybe witness a huge crash as they funnel into the tight corner onto Ontario Drive (there wasn’t one, this year). I can count 21 cars in shot, which is almost the whole field. In 2026 we’ll all have to look for a similar vantage point on the Streets of Markham.

August: Feura
Feura - EAT IT! EP release, The Ivy
Another from the EAT IT! release party, this time of headliner Feura.

October: Pippin
Pippin
For a change, here’s a small dog – Pippin the Border Terrier, at 21 months old, playing with some autumn leaves at Pine Farms Orchard in King Township, Ontario.

Posted in 2025, autosport, China, concert photography, dog, Hobbies, motorsport, Music, Photography, racing, top ten, travel | Leave a comment

In which we keep below decks – for now

Posted on 31 May 2026 by Jennifer Rohn

Everyone I know in academia is hanging by a thread.

The profession has always been fraught, but in the past few years I’ve sensed an edge of desperation in many of my colleagues, especially those who heavily teach. We have been facing rising student numbers every September, each new term a stress-test of what is theoretically possible. And yet each year, it makes me proud that we give more of ourselves to maintain the excellence we always somehow manage to deliver. Colleagues who both teach and run research teams, and/or have clinical or hefty administrative roles, are even more encumbered.

In theory there might be a tipping point beyond which we simply break, but thus far, most manage to remain resilient.

Or at least I hope so. Thinking about it, it might be difficult, sometimes, to recognise when a colleague is in danger. I think and hope that most of us have a support network to buffer all this, but in my experience, there is a tendency in academia to put on a brave face. Few would like to admit publicly that they are anything but successful, efficient, confident and fearless. Some are happy to confess their difficulties one-on-one over coffee or a quick corridor chat, and I find myself spending a lot of time ministering, because I am a good listener and I genuinely want to help. The truth is, however, that sometimes I struggle to find a listening ear for my own troubles, someone who is going through similar things and can truly relate, unlike a non-academic friend or family member whose support is dearly appreciated, but not always enough.

Or I do identify that specialised sympathetic ear, but end up hesitating: everyone is just so busy; do I really want to make someone else’s load heavier by dumping my issues on them? Isn’t it better for them if I just steer clear?

I have been going back and forth over this dilemma for the past year, as I navigate the choppy waters of my own anxieties. My biggest worries involve lab finances, securing team continuity with sufficient grants, and supporting departing team members to successfully land their next position. But on any given week, there are dozens of other bitty items and snippets of bad news: collectively, they form sizeable waves that threaten to upend my craft.

Like any good scientist, I’ve been experimenting with how best to deal with it. In the past, I seldom shared anything, mostly because my network was paper-thin, the place where I was embedded not being conducive to those sorts of relationships (enough said). And I got pretty good at being self-sufficient: it was lonely at times, but largely effective. But the problem is, those muscles need exercising, so if you start to rely on others, you forgot how to be that tough lone wolf. I visualise these two opposing parameter spaces as ships: one small, claustrophobic and solitary, but perfectly safe; and the other more sprawling, effective and comfortable, but with unreliable decks that might shatter at any time, because they rely on input from, and trust in, others – others who are barely holding their own ships on course. There must be some balance to be struck between these two extremes, but thus far I have not quite managed it.

At the moment, I’m hunkered down in my confined space, hoping that the current storm will blow itself out with minimal damage to my vessel.

Afterwards, maybe I’ll decide to come up on deck and ignite a distress flare.

Posted in academia, Research, staring into the abyss, Teaching, The profession of science | Leave a comment

Work Experience

Posted on 31 May 2026 by Athene Donald

Alan Milburn’s interim diagnostic report, Young People and Work, looking into the causes of the substantial increase in NEETs (18-24 year olds Not in Education, Employment or Training), makes sober reading. The causes are many, across multiple Government departments and national and local organisations, and Milburn identifies the overarching problem as a lack of system’s thinking: lots of individuals and bodies attempting to do good stuff, but insufficiently joined up with other good folk elsewhere. As he puts it

‘There is no system in Britain that takes young people from education into work as adults. There are institutions, programmes and many good intentions. But there is no actual system’.

We will have to wait a few more months to see the final report and recommendations, but the shape of what he wants to see develop is probably well articulated in those few lines.

Much has been written about what he has uncovered during his investigations and interviews. It should be a wake-up call, as many commentators have noted, if the number of NEETS – and therefore the cost both to the individual and society – is not simply to go on rising. This is not a case of a snowflake generation, or an aftermath of the pandemic, the problems sit well beyond such factors impacting at the individual level, due to the systemic vacuum.

One of the complaints often made is that young people are not ‘work-ready’. It makes me wonder how former generations ever learned those skills implied. Work experience wasn’t a ‘thing’ when I was at school, and certainly it was never suggested I had a Saturday job or a paper round, although presumably such would have been available. However, applying for jobs was undoubtedly much more straightforward, with far less formality through forms, psychological testing and/or assessment centres. When I look back to the first job I had, it was such an unremarkable affair I have no record of either applying or being offered it in my teenage diary.

My memory is that I saw an advertisement in a strange publication called The Lady (which still exists) for essentially a temporary, live-in kitchen skivvy over the summer. I can only imagine I sent in a letter and got the job, although none of this made it into my diary (although earlier in the year I did note that my family thought it unlikely I’d manage to get myself a job, so it must have been discussed). At just 16, though, I did note I ‘went and got myself an insurance card’ – who told me how to do it, I’ve no idea, (I’m not sure my mother would ever have had one by this point, as she didn’t have a job), but the local DHSS equivalent was housed in a sort of Portakabin not too far away and I must just have strolled in.

So, I got myself a job working at the Field Studies Centre at Flatford Mill (it’s still there) in Suffolk, John Constable’s old home, a fascinating building surrounded by locations that he painted and that I was able to explore. I was thrown in at the deep end, having arrived late one afternoon. The next day my diary tells me ‘Got up at 6.55 to start work at 7’ – that seems very casual, not how I might have imagined I’d deal with my first day on the job, but my bedroom was straight above the kitchen, so travel was not an issue. ‘First peeled potatoes in an electric machine.’ This was simply a tub that whizzed around with a rough surface to take the top layer off. Stop concentrating and leave them too long there and there wasn’t much potato left; that certainly occurred sometimes on my watch. I continue:

‘7.45 have breakfast and then rush through washing up students’ breakfast. Then sweep refectory [sic], polish tables, wash tea towels, sweep and wash pantry, wash up oddments etc. All very hard work right through till 1.’

I don’t record any views on all of this, but it must have been a real shock to the system. I hadn’t been particularly domestic at home, and I’m sure I’d never used a washboard, which was all I was given to wash the tea towels. And so it goes on. The last remark about that first day was ‘I expect I will enjoy myself’, although I suspect this was as much because I was looking forward to being independent, away from home for the first time, and getting out into the rather lovely surrounding countryside. Now, were such a job still to exist, no doubt there would be large numbers of applicants, people in their gap year, or indeed a NEET, almost all able to demonstrate some prior ability around domesticity. The problem of living away from home, so often a limiting factor for young people today seeking work, wasn’t an issue for me, since board and lodging were included, even if it was fairly basic.

Although the afternoons of the job were free for me, as the students were out doing their fieldwork, I did have to come back on duty late afternoon around the students’ supper, and sometimes I also had to do end-of-day ‘tea duty’. Here is another example of how unfit I was for this role. Tea duty consisted of putting on a large boiler to heat up water for the tea, and I clearly got this wrong on multiple occasions: not enough water, forgetting to turn it on, even forgetting to plug it in. I note wryly

‘if I’d been going to be here more than a month, they’d probably sack me’.

That last sentence probably highlights the problem for many people in their first job. Being overwhelmed leads to forgetfulness, leading to apparent incompetence. I didn’t get sacked – which would have left them short-staffed in the kitchen – and I hope I got more reliable by the end of the month I was there. The other thing I learned – still a key lesson and part of being ‘work ready’ – was that you were expected to turn up, regardless of circumstances. I was prone to regular migraines at this point, and they were incredibly painful and wretched (in the days before I found effective medication, which at least now ameliorates them), requiring an extended period in a darkened room. But I remember being chased out of my room to come and do my evening shift; shirking my duty was not acceptable, another lesson those who are now deemed ‘not work-ready’ may not get a second chance to learn.

Thinking back to this first foray into the workforce, I do think how lucky I was, how much easier it was for me than those too often termed ‘snowflakes’. I applied for one job, I got it, without anything more than a letter in response to an advertisement, with no real assessment of my abilities (a good slew of O Levels hardly counted, since they would have been utterly irrelevant for sweeping the floor), or even needing to produce a reference. Just as well, as a letter from my Physics teacher would hardly have helped either. Having got the job, despite being somewhat flakey, no one tried to get rid of me after a couple of weeks.

How different for those starting out today. Read the statistics in the Milburn Review, or tales from the NEETs of today, who struggle to get past the first stage in any job application, who can’t afford to travel to an interview, or there is no public transport to allow them to take on shift work….it is tough for those who have little support, financial or moral. I look forward to reading the second part of the report when suggestions for how to turn the situation around for the young are put forward. As a country, we cannot afford (morally or financially) to let so many people down.

 

Posted in careers, domesticity, education, Flatford Mill, Milburn Review, NEETs, snowflake | Leave a comment

What I Read In May

Posted on 31 May 2026 by Henry Gee

Featuring the struggle to reach the top of coming up to, notwithstanding inasmuch as which I just about manage to summarise the books I have read listened to consumed before the relevant month is out. The first two and the last were audiobooks, my regular accompaniment while walking dogs. The third was, you know, an actual book, a birthday gift from fellow bibliophile Offspring#2, and read while on vacation in Wales (where we visited Hay-on-Wye, because, you know). In other news, I now have an account on TikTok, so help me, where I plan, if time permits, which it usually doesn’t, to review some of the titles I read in video format.

Stella Rimington: Dead Line the latest in the seemingly innumerable adventures of MI5 agent Liz Carlyle as she and her crew foil an attempt to disrupt a Middle-East peace conference held in Scotland.

Stella Rimington – Present Danger Liz Carlyle is posted to Belfast, to keep her from forming an office romance with her recently bereaved boss. There she uncovers a plot to smuggle arms to a Republican splinter group.

Lucy Mangan – Bookish The news says that there has been a steep decline in the number of people who read books. Whether or not this is really true is perhaps a subject for another day, but in Bookish columnist and critic Lucy Mangan celebrates her love of reading, and how books have helped her through life’s crises. It’s a sequel to Bookworm, in which she reflects on her reading childhood, and picks up at the point where our teenage protagonist has to read stuff for her GCSE exams. (You don’t have to have read Bookworm to enjoy Bookish – I haven’t read it either). Mangan’s thoughts and reflections only occasionally intersect with my own – and why would they? Different people like different things, and it’s interesting to learn what others enjoy. She is, as always, a great writer (though extended parenthetical comments (some of which are nested (like this one)) that go on far longer than they should really have done for comfort might have benefited from a firmer editorial hand, or a footnote). On that subject, some of her footnotes are great: here’s one.

It remains my firm belief that if you have a teenage daughter obsessed with Wuthering Heights you should send her to her room now and not let her down until she’s thirty. Save you a lot of bother overall.

She also reflects on some perhaps unexpected reading choices, such as the comfort, while as new mother, afforded by Lee Child’s novels featuring Jack Reacher, a man built like the proverbial outhouse who settles scores with fists ‘the size of supermarket chickens’.

Do you know how many times a day the mother of young children longs to beat the shit out of someone?

Wonderful stuff.

Andy Weir – Project Hail Mary If you’ve read The Martian by the same author, you’ll know what to expect. Well, almost. The set-up is similar – an astronaut is marooned, a long way from home and with no hope of rescue, but being a natural optimist and not prone to woe-is-me despondency, seeks survival and solace in being able to ‘science the shit’ out of the situation. To start with the protagonist wakes from a coma with no memory at all – not even his own name – but his memory returns in flashback as the story progresses, so we finally understand why he is there and what he is doing. Along the way he receives help from a most unexpected quarter. This is a good old-fashioned science fiction book, based more or less firmly on science, of the kind that people wrote in the Golden Age of SF before  writers incorporated much in the way of social or political commentary. In which case you’ll either love it or loathe it. As for me, I found it refreshing.

Posted in Andy Weir, bookish, bookworm, dead line, jack reacher, lee child, Liz Carlyle, Lucy Mangan, present danger, project Hail Mary, Stella Rimington, the martian, Writing & Reading | Leave a comment