Two events this week have made me mull over our personal histories, our personal archives, and what we choose to leave behind.

Science centres are a motley crew – some are museums (like the Science Museum or the Horniman), some are visitor attractions, some are education-based centres specialising in out-of-class learning, (like Hampshire’s INTECH) and some are hybrids of all three.

Science centres are something that we in the UK should be proud of. We didn’t exactly invent them (the Exploratorium in San Francisco is usually thought of as the grandparent of the modern science centre), but we have a long heritage of them and are rather good at them – British science centre workers export their exhibits and expertise around the world. We have bred a diverse and populous ecosystem of them, aided by a Millennium-funded bloom.

Some science centres are large, some are small and some are inbetweeny. The overwhelming majority are not-for-profit, and many live a precarious hand-to-mouth existence reliant on short-term funding and non-core income generation – be that a popular car park, conference venue or gay bar. With the exception of the museums, very few receive Government funding – as they don’t have collections, they don’t count as museums (and so don’t get museum funding), as they are not schools, they don’t get school funding, and weren’t really considered ‘sciencey’ enough for the DTI. (Indeed, until recently, it wasn’t clear which minister was responsible for science centres – the Minister for Science and Innovation in DIUS recently volunteered to take on the role).

But collectively, they are an important part of the science communication landscape, as a set of recent reports by Ecsite-uk, the trade body for science centres, show. And they could be worthy of our (the taxpayers) support.

At last night’s reception to celebrate the start of the 2008 NESTA Crucible programme of personal and professional horizon-widening for research scientists, conversation turned to networking. I was talking to some of the Cruciblists (some of whom may have been cruciverbalists missing Vera, but…) and the conversation turned to two of my favourite conversations – cake and networking. So I would like to offer you them both, maybe.

The other week in Newcastle’s fine branch of M&S, Innovation was everywhere. Innovation in action was trumpeted by the suits, the shirts, and even the socks, in signage and tannoy announcements.

And it’s about bleeding time. Marks and Spencer is finally owning up to being one of the most research-intensive retailers in the UK.

rather than the best. Minimising, not maximising, if you like.

I’m trying, I really am, to engage with the Mayorial elections. I’ve read the London Elects booklet, I’ve read Nature Network’s own City Hall and Science series, and I’ve even looked at a couple of videos on Youtube of the party political broadcasts (even those of the English Democrats ).

But I’m just not excited, this time round. It feels like I’m trying to pick the least worst candidate, rather than the best.

Dear Lecture notes

There’s no easy way for me to say this, but I think it’s time we split up – I think it’d time for you to go. I’m sorry.

It’s not you though, it’s, well, it’s me. You see, I’ve changed, I’m just no interested in the same things any more, and, I, I just don’t think it’s fair to keep you hanging around.

I was at the laundrette today, to wash a duvet, and the owner was taking apart one of the tumble dryers – it needed new bearings for the drum.

It struck me that the tumble dryer is a device that hasn’t changed much in… oooh, a very long while.[1] It’s basically a big perforated drum, which rotates over a heat source, with a special area for one of your socks to get trapped in when you’re taking everything else out.

So is this it for the tumble dryer? Why hasn’t the technology moved on? Well, it has, but the tumble dryer seems to be a classic example of ‘incremental innovation’ – where small, steady improvements are made to a basic concept over time. Indeed, a quick search of the worldwide patent database shows a steady stream of new patents for tumble dryers – at least 12 last year, and one already this year. But none are the ones that, if you excuse the pun, set the tumble dryer world alight. No drying using nuclear fusion, genetic modification, anti-gravity or superconducting gizmos, as far as I can see.

Most innovation is like that though – it builds on what’s been built on before – not so much standing on the shoulders of giants, as rebuilding those shoulders to be able to bear more weight (with apologies to those in the Analogy Preservation Society). Radical innovation (the n-dimensional nanoparticle plasma dryer which doesn’t even need to be near your clothes to dry them) is much rarer.

One day, maybe there will be a revolution in tumble dryer technology. But meanwhile, we’ll take those small improvements, those small steps (or spins) forward, hopeful that in amongst all the tumble dryer research in the world, there’s someone out there dreaming up the next big thing.

¹ I can’t find (I haven’t looked hard) who invented the tumble dryer. Several websites all state that “a Frenchman named Pochon” created a hand-cranked one in 1799. About gives more details, but I’m suspicious that none cite a reference, and Pochon seems not to have any more details – like a first name.

I suggested we blog about science books today as it is World Book Day in the UK and Ireland, and thought I would kick off with a brief tale of the science books that changed my life – literally.

And the funny thing is, I hadn’t realised it until today.

I arrived at work this morning to find a small white package on my keyboard – it was a bar of chocolate wrapped in a compliments slip.

Dear Scott, I thought you’d appreciate some chocolate today!

My stomach turned. The trustees were meeting today to finalise our budgets for next year. What did my valentine know that I didn’t?

New Scientist popularised the phrase “nominative determinism” (coined by Jen Hunt of the University of Manchester) to describe the occasions where someone’s surname suits their occupation.

So when I received a mailing from Crusaid, requesting funds for their HIV/AIDS work in Namibia, I was tickled to see that the envelope manufacturer was Crusade.