We’ve hastily indexed freezer boxes and photocopied notebooks, fought over items of equipment, snuck into the lab in the dead of night to make surreptitious aliquots of treasured plasmid stocks. Taken chemicals and dissection kits that we took into<\/em> that lab, and that nobody else would use anyway. We’ve said our goodbyes, got pissed on cheap lager, woken vowing never to do it again; at least until the next time.<\/p>\n My own series of farewells started earlier than most: my father was in the RAF, which meant that every two to three years I’d have to move on, say goodbye, make new friends\u2014and this has continued into my adult life. Longest time in one place? Six years, leaving for reasons that turned out not to be very good after all.<\/p>\n It is tempting to paint previous engagements with a brush that does not reflect the truth. This will often depend on your current situation: if you’re having a good time you’ll tend to think more poorly of your previous job, or boss, than the reality would warrant. Similarly, if you’re struggling a little bit, you’ll wonder why you left that cushy number. The psychopath you couldn’t wait to away from was simply encouraging you to do your best; the mentor who let you find your own way lacked discipline and leadership skills.<\/p>\n When I finished my thesis I had to find a job pretty quickly: my boss’ programme grant wasn’t renewed and he got offered his dream job on an entirely different continent. I had no time to finish up the experiments and write papers, and took up an offer that had been kicking around a while. No time for lengthy goodbyes or second thoughts (although I did receive a dressing down for not asking<\/em> if I could take various plasmid stocks). Leaving my first postdoc was soured by the boss having a complete benny on discovering I was going into industry\u2014and then screwing me over on paper authorship. Again.<\/p>\n I’ve talked previously<\/a> about the next episode in my professional life, but didn’t say that it led directly into the best six years I’ve spent in science. When I left the MRC-LMB (in the process turning down the offer of a permanent contract) it was for all the wrong reasons, even if the split was on the best of terms (despite having no leaving party, and working right up till midday on Christmas Eve solving a structure by NMR). As you might know, that’s also when I left the UK, seriously expecting never to see certain places<\/a> \u2014or even certain people\u2014ever again.<\/p>\n I did better that time round, and kept the contacts, kept the collaborations alive; in spite of the seeming impossibility of it all made a serious attempt at not burning bridges. I never seriously thought I would need anything else\u2014professionally or otherwise\u2014from my colleagues in Cambridge, but I stayed in touch, stayed friends; moved on but with gratitude and friendship.<\/p>\n Then it all changed, and I came back to the UK, back home; and began rebuilding those friendships (that had never, really, gone away; they’d just been put on hold). Made new friendships too, of course; and I have never felt so alive or fulfilled as I have these last few months in London. They say that you spend the rest of your life trying to unmake friendships formed in the first week of college, but while that may be true (and I have felt some of it myself), some friendships, made long ago, can survive drought and famine and are just waiting to be picked up again when time and circumstance are right.<\/p>\n And this evening I am very pleased that I did pick up and rekindle one of those in particular.<\/p>\n Rob was my best mate. I knew him at Oxford (not during the first week though: maybe that makes a difference?) and attended his wedding. I went to his ordination (despite my theological uncomfortableness) and supported him as best I could. I loved him like a brother. When his marriage collapsed, despite feeling utterly betrayed I was there for him as much as I knew how. I helped him move house. When no one else wanted to know, we were there for him (and his wife and children). Just three weeks ago I was hoping he’d do the same for me. We spent a warm night in August making matchstick rockets, and exchanged jubilant text messages over this summer’s cricketing successes.<\/p>\n But that dark and rainy Friday night, a vehicle coming down a hill lost control and crossed onto his side of the road. It took the fire brigade two hours to cut him out, and he never regained consciousness.<\/p>\n I’ve been to Gloucester and back today for the final goodbye. Took a Streetcar, Kate and the girls. Stood during the first song of the service unable to make a noise above a sob. Held the girls: gave and received comfort. Hugged his wife for what seemed the longest time, but that could never be long enough. Hoped he knew that I loved him.<\/p>\n Vale<\/em>, Rob.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Who gets custody of the Gilsons? I’ve left a few labs in my time. It’s part of the nature of science: we’re all at least a little bit itinerant, needing or wanting to move on every few years (except for … Continue reading ![\"Church\"](\"http:\/\/farm3.static.flickr.com\/2551\/4147432867_4a20b4a466.jpg\")
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