Before I started at Warwick with Colin (noted for being a big name in methane metabolism and having a penchant for Bombay Mix - these facts are unconnected) I was applying for all sorts of PhDs along the theme of quorum sensing - bacterial communication (cool huh?!). Colin was my undergraduate tutor and suggested that I consider a PhD with him as he had a position available that had just been abandoned by the previous applicant. It wasn't in quorum sensing, but it did have a six weeks research cruise in the Arabian Sea associated with it; I was sold. It was still microbial ecology, but that seemed less important than traversing the Indian Ocean, from the Seychelles to Oman, ocasionally filtering water. Brilliant!
My thesis doesn't mention: giant tortoises; smuggled gin disguised as water samples; having my head shaved as we crossed the equator (in a weird "crossing the line ceremony" that seemed to serve only as an excuse for the crew to cross-dress), the day when the salps bloomed and the samples were all fouled with jellies, and catching squid and peeling them for dinner (Nick Fuller particularly enjoyed this, see macabre expression). It doesn't mention the night when we sailed through a Noctiluca bloom, a river of phosphorescent blue algae stretching to the horizon, so bright that we couldn't see where they ended and the stars began. It also doesn't mention the planes going into the twin towers (which we were largely ignorant of, having sporadic access to BBC World Service) or the fact that we were heading into a slightly less than safe patch of water in the Strait of Hormuz - dubbed Exocet Alley in the latter stages of the cruise (at one point I was reassured by a member of the crew that should we be struck by a missile we wouldn't explode, just vanish in a puff of rust - RRS Charles Darwin has since been retired). It doesn't mention colleagues that scream and invent bizarre dance moves, make odd noises when pleased or nervous, that drink the vinegar from pickled-beetroot jars, that are excellent substitutes for professional removals companies or that take pleasure in torturing small stuffed Sesame Street characters (it's difficult to decide whether Grover submerged in liquid nitrogen or Grover with his head sewn on backwards were my particular favourites) or who don't realise that Otis Spunkmeyer muffins shouldn't be abbreviated to just 'spunk' for reasons of decency.
It does mention the fantastic people I got to work with and that supported me in the labs at Warwick and PML, and at home; one reason why I'm making it more available than it currently is (just in the library at Warwick or above my desk). I think it also gives a sense of the difficulties of cross-disciplinary research (I'm no marine chemist), in those thrilling chapters of, if not unsuccesful, certainly tribulation-flavoured science. Aside from that, it's here for self-promotion and so I can sit secure in the knowledge that should I lose every copy, it might be lurking somewhere on the internet.
There are three important parts to read: the dedication on page ii; the acknowledgements on page xi; every sweat-soaked, brain-numbing, agony-inducing last word. I wept blood over this thing for four years! I know the plot's not thrilling and the finale is limp, but you can spare ten minutes to scan it can't you? There's pictures?
Marine Methyl Halide Utilising Bacteria
0 comments:
Post a Comment