At the weekend the clocks went forward. Time was shifted and the days suddenly seem longer. I realised that my stargazing will be pushed later and later into the spring and summer evenings. Oh well, I’ll just have to sit up longer. Earlier today I travelled under dismal skies to North London to attend the funeral of a colleague, a man in his prime–not yet forty–for whom time has cruelly and suddenly stopped. His young family is devastated.

I am reading The Age of Wonder , Richard Holmes’ award-winning romp through the romantic era of science which lasted, roughly speaking, from the middle of the eighteenth century to the middle of the nineteenth.

Sunday evening saw the Curry clan heading into central London for the Big Libel Gig in support of the ongoing campaign for Libel Reform.

It’s hard to believe, but Bob Dylan is at Imperial. Stranger than an eleven-dollar bill. But it’s true.  Not in person you understand, that would be ridiculous. But his words are there, as the sub-text to an exhibition of photographs by Mark Edward illustrating humankind’s disconnection from the planet that we inhabit. The pictures are displayed on temporary boarding along one side of the Queen’s Lawn in the centre of the campus.

Mark this day! Mark this day. Hang out the bunting And launch a clatter of fireworks from the grassy earth For its like may not be seen again. Today I ran for a full twenty-eight minutes Without stopping. I lapped the gleaming Serpentine And came to rest in Albert’s gilded gaze Beside the sun-turned crocuses. Mark this day Because life is short And we must take our pleasures where we can.

Returning home from Lablit this evening at about 11 pm I scanned the clear sky in the south-east and noticed a small bright speck to the left of and slightly higher than the glowing moon. A quick perusal of Starmap on the iPhone told me that this was likely to be Saturn. At last! I dashed into the house, had a quick comfort-break (at the Americans so delicately put it), grabbed my telescope and set up shop on our front pathway.

Roll up! Roll up! Lay-deeeez and Genne-men! Step right in! We have here today for your delectation and amazement a veritable cornucopia of comeliness, a festival of fecundity, a very large bucket of sciency bits, in all their wondrous and freakish varieties. We present Scientia Pro Publica Number Twenty-Two! Like a barnacle’s penis, this edition of Scientia Pro Publica is long and strange and packed with seeds–for thought.

Yesterday morning I made my way to the Royal Courts of Justice in London’s Strand to attend the Court of Appeal hearing in the libel case brought by the British Chiropractic Association (BCA) against Simon Singh.

Grrlscientist and Bob caught me napping the other day and before I knew it, I had agreed to host the next Scientia Pro Publica, which will be published here on Monday 1st March .

I have little to say this evening apart from reporting that I came home tonight and caught the new moon before it dipped behind the trees. Thought some of you might want to have a look. Moon over Kent And my daughter and I espied the Orion Nebula; unfortunately my photographic equipment is not up to recording that. But this astronomy lark is the business .