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‘Know how to flex on Insta?’: grandchildren and grandparents explain the world to each other | Family

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‘In your day, you were such gentlemen’: Louis Brow, 21, and Bob Smith, 80, on dating, slang and boxing

Bob Smith sits upright on the sofa as his grandson, Louis Brow, prepares to quiz him on youth slang. We are sitting in the living room of Louis’s family home in Ilkley, West Yorkshire; Bob has travelled over from Walton-le-Dale, Lancashire, in his Nissan Micra.

“Would you know what flexing is?” Louis begins. “If I was to flex on the Gram?”

“You’re bending, you’re a contortionist,” suggests Bob, gamely.

“Nowadays it’s someone showing off,” Louis explains. “I’d flex my designer clothes, for example, my flashy watch.”

“Oh right, that’s a new one to me. What about flexing your muscles?”

“You can still flex your muscles. I might say to my mate, that’s a big flex, you’re flexing, you’re looking good.”

“Oh dear me,” Bob sighs, as he sinks back on the couch. “Why not say the correct word?”

Bob might not know the terminology, but he has had a major flex on social media recently. Louis is the Yorkshire Challenge belt (69kg) boxing champion and credits his success to the outdoor boxing gym, nicknamed the Dojo, that Grandad Bob helped him build in the back yard of the family home. A TikTok video of Louis using a tyre as a punchbag while his grandfather eggs him on went viral this year. Today, Louis confidently reels off his social media wins to Bob. He just hit 1m likes on TikTok; their video garnered 2.4m views. “Well, people like watching things,” Bob says, sagely.

Talk turns to another modern phenomenon: dating apps. Bob explains what dating was like in his youth. “There would be these dos in the church with disco dancing. When you’re dancing the first night, the ladies said: ‘You’ll have to come and see my parents before I can see you again.’ The parents would have to give you the nod. It took a long time to woo those ladies. It’s much faster now.”

“That’s the whole point of dating apps,” Louis says. “You’re bored on a night out, you match with someone on Tinder, and it’s back to the uni accommodation. It’s as simple as that.” He shakes his head in dismay. “Back in your day, you were such gentlemen. It puts us to shame. Now people super like on Tinder, slide into DMs – there’s no class about it.”

Does Bob know about Tinder? “Vaguely,” he nods. “You look at these modern things because they come up on the television. It’s a changing world and it’s changing fast. Very fast.”

We head outside to the Dojo, where Bob goes a couple of rounds with a piece of boxing equipment that mimics a sparring partner. Bob was a boxer until he was 14, when his father put a stop to it, fearing for his safety. Louis is fearless: he wants to retain his current belt and win the 75kg title. “If I win that, I’ll be the first Yorkshire two-weight amateur boxing champion – no one’s ever done two belts at the same time.” He’s doing an apprenticeship in financial services, but wants to build his boxing brand, get a huge following and go professional. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to be famous like Conor McGregor,” he says.

Bob roars with laughter at this. He still has his goals. He’s been renovating a barn since he retired from commercial vehicle bodybuilding almost 20 years ago. He hopes to move in one day. Louis recalls a visit there to help with welding. “We were chugging along in your little Nissan Micra, and there was this long stretch of perfect straight road ahead, and I said: ‘Go on, Grandad, put your foot down, show me what the Micra’s got.’ And you said: ‘Listen, in life you’ve just got to take your time and go slow because if you go too fast you miss the beauty of life.’ It’s stuck with me, has that.”

‘I don’t know how old you are, to be honest’: Anisa Afsar, 14, and Khurshid Bashir, 65, on skincare, life in Pakistan and creative writing

Anisa Afsar at her grandmother Khurshid Bashir’s house in Dewsbury, Yorkshire.
Anisa Afsar at her grandmother Khurshid Bashir’s house in Dewsbury, Yorkshire. Photograph: Suki Dhanda/The Guardian

Anisa Afsar travels from Bradford every week to visit her Nanee, Khurshid Bashir, in Dewsbury, West Yorkshire. There are always kebabs and gossip, and Anisa, a keen reader, usually has a book on the go, something in the action and fantasy genres. But today, as we gather in Khurshid’s living room, Anisa realises she doesn’t know a lot about her grandmother’s story. “I know a bit of it – I know you didn’t go to school and stuff.” Anisa giggles, shyly. “I don’t know how old you are, to be honest.”

One challenge is the language barrier: “We can understand easy words,” Anisa says. “Nanee understands English – I understand a few words in Urdu, so it does take a while.”

“I wish I did go to school,” Khurshid tells Anisa. “When I moved here at 11, from Pakistan, I learned the language from being here.” She explains what life was like in Pakistan, a country Anisa has never visited. “Everything was outside. We bathed outside, we ate outside. Here, it’s like we’re locked in. In Pakistan, everyone was together, cooking and cleaning. It’s like another life. I’ve spent most of my life here – I got married at 15. So I see my life in Pakistan as my young time.”

Today, Anisa’s mum, Fozia, is on hand to help with translation. Khurshid tells Anisa she is 65, which amazes her granddaughter. “Your skin is probably better than mine,” Anisa says. “At 65, I would like to still look as nice as you.” Khurshid says she doesn’t wear makeup. She’s a clean freak, and says that keeps her young.

Anisa didn’t know how young her grandmother was when she got married. It’s got her thinking. “If I were to get married, I’d have to be about 30,” she says. Khurshid softly mouths the figure “25”, as if that might be a good compromise. For now, Anisa has other goals. She wants to pass all her exams. She likes English and performing arts, and through working with the creative writing charity First Story, she has been published in an anthology. She tells her grandma what she writes about: “It depends how I’m feeling. I like writing action, weapons and fighting. I add subplots, though, like romance, because it can’t just be one genre for me.”

What does her grandma think of all this? “Make sure you do well, and do something with your life,” she tells Anisa, with whom she shares a certain shyness. “Whatever you want to do, I’ll be proud.”

‘You’re very cool and kind, and a good cook’: Baye Julien, nine, and Enith Williams, 64, on Windrush, traditions and technology

Baye Julien at home in Stretford, Greater Manchester, with her grandmother Enith Williams.
Baye Julien at home in Stretford, Greater Manchester, with her grandmother Enith Williams. Photograph: Suki Dhanda/The Guardian

When we gather to talk on FaceTime, Enith tells Baye – perched on her grandmother’s lap – what it was like to be part of the Windrush generation.

“My parents came over to make a home here,” Enith says. “I stayed with my grandma in Nevis, and unfortunately my grandma passed away and so I had to come here on my own on a plane when I was seven. It was November 1964, and it was snowing. Coming from sunshine to snow, I was like, ‘What?’ I had a sticker on my coat to say my name.”

Baye considers this for a moment, then says: “You must have been scared.”

Enith nods. “Before I went, it was really exciting because I was getting new clothes, and everybody was saying goodbye to me. But on the plane, I didn’t have anybody to speak to – that was a bit scary for nine hours.” Enith tells Baye about all the things she’d never experienced before, like the cold. “Steam started to come out of my mouth and I said: ‘I’m smoking, why am I smoking?’ When I saw an indoor fire, I thought the house was ablaze.”

Baye and Enith live close to each other in Stretford, Greater Manchester; Baye stays over at her grandma’s on weekends. They watch TV together, though it’s usually what Baye likes, Enith says. “I like Frozen, I’ve watched everything about twice,” Baye says. “I like The Princess And The Frog. It’s not my favourite film, but it’s my Disney film. It shows black people can be princesses, and the princess looks like me.”

Baye helps her grandma with her iPad. Today, she explains what a step counter is for. “When we were growing up, we didn’t have these things,” Enith says. “It’s good that you know, so you can explain everything to me.”

Has Baye ever considered what she’d be like when she’s 64? “I’d have thought I’ll be like my grandma. I’d be very respectful. I’d watch a lot of Emmerdale, Coronation Street and EastEnders.”

Enith, who was a hairdresser for 40 years, washes her granddaughter’s hair at the weekend, and takes the opportunity to educate her on heritage and traditions. She recently explained the use of a hot comb, warmed on the stove, to straighten afro hair. Baye thinks this must have burned her grandma’s ears.

Baye likes her grandma’s head massages and the traditional johnny cakes she makes. “You’re very cool and kind, and a good cook,” Baye says. “You’re kind with your words and actions, and sometimes, when Mummy’s not here, I can stay up late.”

There is a plan to visit the West Indies so Enith can show Baye her heritage. Baye has all her swimming costumes ready.

Enith pulls her granddaughter close. “My parents left me with my grandma. I knew they loved me, but I didn’t feel love. We had that separation. Now, I’ve made sure that Baye knows and feels love. As soon as she hears my voice, I just want her to know it’s love there.”

‘I learned from Gramphy that some fish can change from female to male’: Kiki Tautz, 11, and Pip Philips, 64, on nature and working in the forces

Kiki Tautz and her grandad Pip Philips, on the beach in Gosport, Hampshire.
Kiki Tautz and her grandad Pip Philips, on the beach in Gosport, Hampshire. Photograph: Suki Dhanda/The Guardian

Kiki Tautz and her grandfather, Pip Philips, natter away on the beach in Gosport, Hampshire, while their photograph is taken. They love to talk, Pip says. “We go places, have a sit down and a good discussion, don’t we? We talk about nature. You’re well into Mr Attenborough. He’s your hero.”

Kiki nods enthusiastically as her Gramphy gives her a comforting cuddle. “I learned that some fish can change from female to male. I didn’t realise animals can do amazing things like that.”

“I didn’t know that either,” Pip says, as they sit looking out to the Isle of Wight. “Animals work as a community, don’t they? It’s like ants – you’ve got thousands of them and they are working together.”

Kiki lives near the beach with her mum, Bryley, and dad, Ian. “I like exploring, playing with animals and going swimming,” she says. Her grandfather lives farther along the coast in Poole, Dorset.

Pip was in the Royal Marines for 26 years. His name is Alan, but everyone knows him by the nickname he earned when he entered the forces at 16. “I was 5ft 4in at the time,” he says, “so they called me ‘Pipsqueak’ and the name stuck.”

One of the hardest aspects of Pip’s career was being away from his daughter. “When your mum was young, I used to say at night: ‘See you, I’m going tomorrow.’ I didn’t know where I was going or how long for. It could be three days or six months.”

Pip’s only contact with family was through the Forces Free Air Letters system. “All we had was what we called the bluey, a piece of paper that you could write on two sides. We moved around a lot, so letters got back to the UK quicker than the ones coming to us. Eventually you’d get a big stack and you had to sort them out by date to understand what was going on.” It was difficult being away: “While you were working, you didn’t have time to think about family, but at night it was hard. You’d never get photos from your kids – just blueys.”

Kiki’s dad is in the RAF. “But now you can email and FaceTime. It’s quite different,” Pip says. Kiki speaks to her dad every night while he’s away. “It helps me relax because I can see him,” she says. “I know if I can see him online that nothing bad has happened.” She is a member of Little Troopers, a charity that supports children with parents in the forces. At school, friends keep her calm when she gets anxious. Then there is Gramphy. “Sometimes I don’t understand why Daddy has to go away, so I can talk to Gramphy about what he has to do there. Gramphy understands what it’s like.”

Pip gives his granddaughter a reassuring squeeze. “We look at where he is in the world on a map, and you can count down the days until he is back.”

‘I look up to you for your openness to change’: Elijah McKenzie-Jackson, 17, and Jean Young, 86, on the climate crisis, protests and veganism

Jean Young and her grandson Elijah McKenzie-Jackson in Walthamstow, east London.
Jean Young and her grandson Elijah McKenzie-Jackson in Walthamstow, east London. Photograph: Suki Dhanda/The Guardian

Jean Young and Elijah McKenzie-Jackson have been living together since lockdown. “We call each other besties because we have conversations all the time, every morning, every evening,” Elijah says, as he budges up beside his grandmother on her bed. “It’s been nice living here, hasn’t it?”

“Oh, I love it,” says Jean, who moved from her home in Essex to live with Elijah and his mum in Walthamstow, east London, after she broke her hip. “It’s been nice having the company. I’ve got so many nice grandchildren to entertain me and talk to me. You never stop talking. I mean, I’m as bad.”

The walls of Jean’s bedroom are decorated with photos of her late husband, Ken, who died nine years ago. She tells Elijah, one of 10 grandchildren, about growing up in the 1940s. Her father was a lawyer overseas and the family frequently moved abroad for his work. Once, they got caught up in a second world war bombing. “It was 1942, we were all on a ship, including my mother and her two dogs, going to somewhere in the far east. We were only one night out from Bristol, and a bomb under the sea blew up in front of us. Luckily, we weren’t hurt. The Royal Navy came and rescued us and brought us back to shore. We were lowered down from this enormous boat in a smaller boat on a chain.”

“Like in Titanic?” Elijah says. “Oh my gosh, Grannie. It sounds like a movie.” Elijah is a climate justice activist, who found his calling two years ago. “I learned a tiny bit about climate change in school. I started watching documentaries, doing my own research, and I got very frustrated. I didn’t understand why no politicians were acting. When the school strikes movement came about, I realised my frustration and anger could be funnelled into something productive.”

“Good for you,” says Jean, even though she has her reservations about the school climate strikes. “I’m not against it. But I’m not sure you should miss too much school.”

We meet at the family home the weekend after Elijah returns from protesting at the G7 summit in Cornwall. He explains how it’s relatively safe for him to attend protests. “If I was a woman and a person of colour, I’d be much more targeted by the police. Walking the streets at night, I feel safe. I’ve never been stopped and searched. I have a privilege, so I’m going to use that privilege to speak up.”

It’s a different world from Jean’s. “That didn’t happen in my day. I could have protested, but nobody did then,” she says. “In those days, parents were much stricter with their children. Nowadays, you can talk things through. That’s what I used to preach to my children. I taught my girls that they had every right to vote – it wasn’t just for men. I got them all voting when they were quite young.”

Elijah and Jean discuss flooding, the oil industry, veganism (theirs is a vegan household) and LGBT issues. Jean has two LGBT children: Elijah’s mum, Becky, and a son, Shimonn. Elijah asks about their coming out. “There was never any secrecy about things like that,” Jean says. “I had to learn what they were talking about. LGBT didn’t mean much to me then, but I got the gist.”

Elijah thinks that having two mothers (he lives with Becky and her partner, and sees his other mum, Helena, very often) has made him who he is. “Having two mums and being a bit different has taught me resilience, and that everyone matters, and everyone can speak up,” he says. He believes his grandmother has been resilient, in a different way. “I look up to you for your openness to change,” Elijah tells Jean. “You could have been homophobic, but you were open and fighting for justice within your family. Now you’re vegetarian, nearly vegan, you’re talking about climate change – that’s something I would never expect from old people.”

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Crypto is starting to lose its cool – just look at El Salvador | Rowan Moore

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To its evangelists, bitcoin is a frictionless, empowering form of money that liberates citizens of the world from the shackles of banks and national governments. To sceptics, the cryptocurrency is a tool of kleptocrats and gangsters, environmentally monstrous in its consumption of energy, a digitally glamorised Ponzi scheme whose eventual crash will most hurt those least able to afford a loss.

Confidence may or may not have been enhanced by the unveiling, by President Nayib Bukele, of images of a proposed bitcoin-shaped Bitcoin City in El Salvador, funded with a bitcoin bond, the currency’s logo embedded in the central plaza, a metropolis powered with geothermal energy from a nearby volcano. Bukele, the self-styled “coolest dictator in the world”, a former publicist who wears baseball caps back to front, has already made El Salvador the first country to adopt bitcoin as the official currency. “The plan is simple,” he said. “As the world falls into tyranny, we’ll create a haven for freedom.”

Leaving aside the worrisome Pompeii vibe of the city’s location, some shine has come off the president’s vision with the news that the country’s investments in cryptocurrency have lost 45% of their value, that it scores CCC with the credit rating agency Fitch, and that the perceived risk of its bonds is up there with that of war-torn Ukraine. And Bukele’s talk of freedom doesn’t sit well with Amnesty International’s claim that his recent state of emergency has created “a perfect storm of human rights violations”.

But why worry about any of this when you have shiny computer-generated images of a fantasy city to distract you?

Unsecured credit line

Boris Johnson waves his arms behind a podium with the Elizabeth line sign.
The Mayor of London Sadiq Khan looks on as Boris Johnson gives a speech at Paddington station on 17 May 2022. Photograph: Reuters

The use of constructional bluster by populist leaders – Trump’s wall, for example – is not in itself anything new. See also the island airport, garden bridge, Irish Sea bridge, 40 new hospitals and 300,000 homes a year promised but not delivered by Boris Johnson, and the nuclear power stations he has implausibly pledged to build at a rate of one a year.

Last week his fondness for Potemkin infrastructure took a new twist. Rather than over-promise illusory schemes and under-deliver them, he decided to take credit for something actually built, the £19bn Elizabeth line in London, formerly known as Crossrail, whose central section opens to the public on Tuesday. “We get the big things done,” he boasted to the House of Commons, choosing to ignore the fact that the line was initiated under a Labour prime minister and a Labour mayor of London. He almost makes Nayib Bukele look credible.

Behind the red wall

Characters from The House of Shades gather around a table on stage
Mounting misery: The House of Shades. Photograph: Helen Murray

If you want a light-hearted night out – a date, a birthday treat – then The House of Shades, a new play by Beth Steel, might not, unless you are an unusual person, be for you. It is a cross between Greek tragedy and what was once called kitchen sink drama, a story of ever-mounting misery set in a Nottinghamshire town from 1965 to 2019. It covers the collapse of manufacturing, the rise of Thatcherism, the promises of New Labour and the disillusionment that led to “red wall” seats voting Conservative in 2019.

It features illegal abortion, graphically portrayed, and the effects of inflation, both newly significant. All presented at the Almeida theatre in the famously metropolitan London borough of Islington, not far from the former restaurant where Tony Blair and Gordon Brown did the 1994 deal that shaped some of the events in the play. There’s irony here to make this audience squirm. Which, along with several other not-comfortable emotions, is probably the desired effect.

Rowan Moore is the Observer’s architecture correspondent

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Lonestar plans to put datacenters in the Moon’s lava tubes • The Register

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Imagine a future where racks of computer servers hum quietly in darkness below the surface of the Moon.

Here is where some of the most important data is stored, to be left untouched for as long as can be. The idea sounds like something from science-fiction, but one startup that recently emerged from stealth is trying to turn it into a reality. Lonestar Data Holdings has a unique mission unlike any other cloud provider: to build datacenters on the Moon backing up the world’s data.

“It’s inconceivable to me that we are keeping our most precious assets, our knowledge and our data, on Earth, where we’re setting off bombs and burning things,” Christopher Stott, founder and CEO of Lonestar, told The Register. “We need to put our assets in place off our planet, where we can keep it safe.”

Stott said Lonestar’s efforts to build a data storage facility in space are a bit like trying to preserve all of the world’s seeds in the Svalbard Global Seed Vault, located on the Norwegian Arctic island ofSpitsbergen. But instead of trying to protect crop diversity, the upstart wants to safeguard human knowledge. 

“If we don’t do this, what will happen to our data on Earth?,” he asked. “The seed bank flooded due to effects of climate change. It’s also susceptible to other forms of destruction like war or cyber attacks. We need to have somewhere we can keep our data safe.” Lonestar has its sights set on the Moon.

One side of our bigger natural satellite is tidally locked and constantly faces Earth, meaning it would be possible to set up a constant, direct line-of-sight communication between devices on the Moon and our planet.

Lonestar is currently closing its $5m seed round from investors like Seldor Capital and 2 Future Holding. To raise more money, it’ll have to prove its technology is feasible and will start with small demos on commercial lunar payloads. Last month, it announced it had signed contracts to launch prototype demonstrations of its software and hardware capabilities aboard two lunar landers with NASA-funded aerospace biz Intuitive Machines.

Under the space agency’s Commercial Lunar Payload Services program, Intuitive Machines will, after some delay, send its Nova-C lander to the Moon for its first mission, dubbed IM-1, at the end of 2022. Lonestar will run a software-only test, storing a small bit of data on the lander’s hardware. IM-1 is expected to last one lunar day, an equivalent of two weeks on Earth. 

The second launch, IM-2, is more ambitious. Intuitive Machines plans to send another Nova-C lander to the Moon’s South Pole carrying various bits of equipment, including NASA’s PRIME-1 drill for ice and a spectrometer as well as Lonestar’s first hardware prototype: a one-kilogram storage device, the size of a hardback novel, with 16 terabytes of memory. IM-2’s is expected to launch in 2023.

Robots and lava tubes

The tiny proof-of-concept datacenter will be storing immutable data for Lonestar’s early beta of its so-called Disaster Recovery as a Service (DRaaS), Stott told us. “[We will be] performing upload and download tests (think refresh and restore of data), and performing edge processing tests of apps as well. It will be running Ubuntu.” The company is still in the process of determining bandwidth rates, and has secured permissions to transmit data to the Moon and back to Earth in the S, X, and Ka-Bands in the radio spectrum.

Lonestar’s opportunity to test its technology on the Moon for the first time will depend on whether Intuitive Machines’ Nova-C landers successfully make it to the lunar surface in one piece. Soft landings on the Moon are notoriously difficult; numerous endeavors from the Soviets and the US in the Sixties have ended in failure. The last two attempts that ended badly were in 2019, when Israel’s SpaceIL and India’s National Space agency’s respectively crashed their Beresheet and Chandrayaan-2 lunar landers.

The strong gravitational pull of the Moon and its very thin atmosphere means the speeds at which spacecraft approach the surface have to be considerably slowed in a short amount of time to land gently. Nailing the landing process is key to lunar exploration, whether it’s sending robotic spacecraft or a crew of astronauts. 

“Our turnkey solution for delivering, communicating, and commanding customer payloads on and around the Moon is revolutionary,” Intuitive’s president and CEO, Steve Altemus, told us in a statement. “Adding Lonestar Data Holdings and other commercial payloads to our lunar missions are critical steps toward Intuitive Machines creating and defining the lunar economy.”

The path from a book-sized prototype to real fully fledged cloud storage datacenters, however, is handwavy. Stott said Lonestar has plans for future missions to launch servers capable of holding five petabytes of data in 2024, and 50 petabytes of data by 2026. By then, he hopes the datacenter will be able to host data traffic to and from the Moon at rates of 15 Gigabits per second – much faster than home internet broadband speeds – beamed from a series of antennas. 

If the company is to continue scaling and storing data long-term, it’ll have to figure out how to protect its datacenters from cosmic radiation and deal with the Moon’s fluctuating surface temperatures, which can go from a scorching 222.8°F (106°C) during the day to a -297.4°F (-183°C) at night.

Stott has an answer for that: nestle the datacenters in lunar lava tubes, cavernous pits bored below the surface of the Moon by the flow of ancient basaltic lava. Inside these pits, the temperature will be steadier and the servers will be better shielded from harmful electromagnetic rays.

And how will the Lonestar get them down there? “Robots… lots of robots,” Stott said. ®

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Here are the Royal Irish Academy’s newest members from STEM

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14 of the 29 new members being welcomed by the Royal Irish Academy this year are from STEM. We take a quick look at what they do.

Every year, the Royal Irish Academy admits new members to its prestigious roster of researchers from across the island of Ireland for their exceptional contributions to the sciences, humanities, social sciences and public service.

This year, the 236-year-old institution has elected 29 new members from universities and bodies across Ireland, officially welcoming 24 of them at its Admittance Day event held in Dublin today (20 May).

Future Human

“We are immensely proud of these 29 new members who we are recognising today for their scholarly achievements, their research and international distinction or for significant contributions to Irish society,” said Dr Mary Canning, president of the Royal Irish Academy.

“As new members of the Academy, they will contribute to and strengthen our capacity to provide expert advice on higher education and research policy.”

Here we take a quick look at 14 new members who have a background in STEM-related fields.

Linda Doyle, TCD

Doyle made history by becoming the first woman provost of Trinity College Dublin in its 429-year history last year. Before that she was a professor of engineering and the arts at Trinity and the university’s dean of research from 2018.

Geraldine Boylan, UCC

A former Science Foundation Ireland Researcher of the Year, Boylan is the director of the Infant research centre for maternal and child health research and professor of neonatal physiology at University College Cork.

Mary Cannon, RCSI

Cannon is a consultant psychiatrist and professor of psychiatric epidemiology and youth mental health at the Royal College of Surgeons in Ireland. She is a leading researcher in the area of youth mental health and childhood and adolescent risk factors for mental illness.

Rónadh Cox, Williams College

One of this year’s five honorary members, Cox is the Brust Professor of Geology and Mineralogy at Williams College, Massachusetts. She is prominent internationally within the coastal erosion and geomorphology community.

Marie Donnelly, Climate Change Advisory Council

Donnelly is the only new member in this list not associated with any university. Instead, she is the chair of the Climate Change Advisory Council. She previously worked with the European Commission for three decades.

Gary Donohoe, NUI Galway

A professor of psychology at NUI Galway, Donohoe is an internationally known researcher in the cognitive neuroscience and mental health space. His work focuses on understanding and treating factors relevant to social and occupational function.

Fiona Doohan, UCD

Doohan is a professor of plant health at University College Dublin’s School of Biology and Environmental Science. She is one of the co-founders of agricultural sustainability company CropBiome, which is one of the many high-potential start-ups backed by Enterprise Ireland.

David Jones, QUB

A professor of pharmaceutical and biomaterial engineering at Queen’s University Belfast, Jones is an internationally recognised researcher in polymer-based implanted medical devices and enhanced pharmaceutical dosage forms.

Patricia Kearney, UCC

Kearney is a professor of epidemiology in the School of Public Health at UCC. A recognised clinical triallist, her research focuses on population health and health services.

Mairead Kiely, UCC

Another researcher working in the area of health, Kiely is a professor of human nutrition at UCC. Her research focuses macronutrients, particularly vitamin D, and their impact on health and child development.

Hannah McGee, RCSI

McGee is the deputy vice-chancellor for academic affairs at the Royal College of Surgeons in Ireland and a scholar in psychology. A former president of the European Health Psychology Society, she was also appointed as the deputy chair of Ireland’s National Research Ethics Committee for Covid-19.

James P O’Gara, NUI Galway

A professor of microbiology at NUI Galway, O’Gara’s research focuses on the mechanisms underpinning biofilm production and antimicrobial resistance in staphylococci, including MRSA.

Stefan Oscarson, UCD

Oscarson is a professor of chemical biology at UCD and an internationally known researcher in the field of carbohydrate chemistry. His synthetic work underpins the development of drug and vaccine candidates against various infectious diseases.

Patrick Wyse Jackson, TCD

Curator of the Geology Museum based in Trinity College Dublin, Jackson is also a professor of geology at the university. He is an expert on the history of Irish geology and his research focuses on fossil bryozoans – a large phylum of invertebrate animals.

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