At the Diamond synchrotron last week, Jamie Oliver would have been proud of us. Amar and I pitched up last Thursday afternoon at the great gleaming doughnut in the Oxfordshire countryside with the latest batch of Amar’s crystals, packed carefully into a dry nitrogen dewar to keep the little jewels frozen at a chilly 80K. Because we were sharing the beamtime with other users from Imperial our slot didn’t start until about 8.30 in the evening.

Thanks to the very good offices of Matt Brown, who knows everything about everything happening in London, I found myself at the Smithfield Gallery last night. Jenny, Richard and myself joined Matt there to gaze at Luke Jerram’s artful glassy virus sculptures.

Flags are potent and emotive symbols for many people but when my daughter plonked her new school-bag on the kitchen counter at the beginning of this week I cracked a wry smile. Love that Union flag? My reaction to the garish decoration of her bag made me realise what a long way I had travelled from my own childhood, a journey that has been at least partly influenced by science.

I am determined to finish the third and final installment of the posts about my vacation reading before the holiday season comes to an end — which I think is tonight. I want to tell you about the biography of Huxley and Eric Ambler’s Uncommon Danger . Truth be told I have been struggling with this post.

I attended last year’s Science Blogging conference very much as an outsider. I’d signed on at Nature Network and passed a few comments, but was not a blogger. However, the event was a turning point for me and in the warm flush of excitement that emanated from the conference, I finally decided to jump into the strange reality known as the blogosphere.

I once read in a physics textbook that if an atom were to be magnified to the size of London’s Wembley Stadium, the nucleus at the centre would be about as big as a hazelnut. Well screw that, because I can think of much better uses for Wembley Stadium. Besides the obvious — football — it is of course an ideal venue for rock concerts and last Friday night U2 showed exactly how it should be done.

For my second holiday read I gave in to the excitement surrounding the 40th anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon landing and splashed out on Buzz Aldrin’s Magnificent Desolation . The book (co-written with Ken Abraham) tells of the aftermath of his visit to our dusty satellite. I have long been a fan of the moon landings, having been just about old enough to realise what was happening in the later lunar missions in the early seventies.

Just before heading off on holiday I gave notice of my intended reading matter. Pedalo-duty permitting, I hoped to get through all four books. The wind and currents of the French Atlantic coast precluded any pedalo action so the kids had to settle for surfing lessons instead, and were placed in the capable hands of an instructor.

This’ll be brief since it’s been a busy week. I’m aiming to get through my ‘to do’ list before heading off on holiday at the weekend. If past form is anything to go by, it will me take a few days to wind down. I have a plans for a grant application roiling in the back of my mind, still churning, still not quite formed. But eventually, I will come to rest. We’re going to the seaside.

Those outside science are often surprised to learn that we usually have to pay for the privilege of being published. The charges incurred by authors, argue the journal publishers, reflect the cost of the significant value that added when a raw manuscript is converted into a scientific paper. And, at a pinch, I would tend to agree. I remember seeing my very first paper appear in Biochemistry back in 1990. It was a magical moment.

I love pictures. And photographs. Unlike some, I can’t paint or draw with any great skill, but in common with many other people I get immense pleasure from photography. I’m no expert and wouldn’t even consider myself a serious hobbyist, but I have been known to enjoy composing and capturing an image with my little compact camera. Here’s one I took the weekend before last when we were at Brighton.