WFH: DAY 109. A forlorn day. 7.15 am: Breakfast: 8.00 am: A communion. 8.30 pm: There was a slide on my Powerpoint presentation that required attention, and yesterday’s composition to review, before anything new was begun. When I listen to the compositions for this suite, I visualise a black and white film accompaniment. But it’s not one that converts the…

Sunday, August 2. 11.30 am: The service of Morning Prayer, broadcast from Canterbury Cathedral. ‘Where’s Bishop?’ He was sitting on stone steps in the far distance, like a small animal in one of Henri Rousseau’s jungle scenes: A reflection on a return: 4.00 pm: After the weekly round of cleaning, we took an afternoon walk to the, now, deserted university…

WFH: DAY 107. 9.00 am: The air pressure had changed. A gentle breeze kept that air moving. With it came a torpor — a sluggishness — that had to be resisted. Some days start of the wrong foot, even before you catch up with them. On such a day as this, nothing may work, or else nothing may work well…

WFH: DAY 106. I spent the day in second gear, considering the broader landscape of my experience. It’s tempting to see no further than the boundaries of whatever you’re doing and whoever you are, presently. In the end, now is (to invoke a rather outmoded technology of projection) only one slide in the carousel of your whole life’s story:

You’ve learned cuisine; designed a recipe; sourced, bought, and prepared the ingredients; cooked them with love and care over time; and presented them on a pristine plate accompanied with polished cutlery. But all the diner is really interested in is the taste. WFH: DAY 105. 8.00 am: A communion. 8.30 am: I came across a link to a previously unreleased…

‘I’ve produced a lot of “failure-paintings” recently!’ WFH: DAY 104. 8.00 am: A communion. ‘Is this a memory of an actual event or of a dream scenario?’ I sometimes find it hard to distinguish the identity of those mental images that involuntarily present themselves to the imagination, usually when I’m either emerging from sleep or otherwise dosing. Perhaps the social…

WFH: DAY 103: 7.15 am: Ablutions: 8.00 am: A communion. 8.30 am: There are days when a sense of relentless routine greets me at the kitchen door. Tuesday (again). The snow-dome required a shake-up. The sound compositions were well into their stride. Thus, I could afford to lay that project aside for awhile and push-on with other plans, shortly. I…

Sunday, July 26. Monday, July 27. WFM: DAY 102. 9.00 am: The week ahead had to be fluid. Tutorials and other appointments would emerge where they would. In the meantime, I attended to the certainties: postgraduate admissions, submissions, and examinations; and undergraduate re-submissions. Discussions in these respects take place within the contexts of modes of organisation and delivery that remains…

WFH: DAY 101. I spent the day adapting the text of my presentation for inclusion in a booklet that will accompany a tape/CD release of sound compositions. These would’ve been presented at the Shining Pyramid symposium, which had to be abandoned due to lockdown. (‘Where there’s a will …’ .) In the background, I listened critically to the mixdown of…

I’m waiting for the planes to tumbleWaiting for the towns to fallI’m waiting for the cities to crumbleWaiting till I see you crawl I don’t want to know about evilOnly want to know about love …(John Martyn, ‘Don’t Want to Know‘, Solid Air (1972)) WFH: DAY 100. (Is this a milestone or a millstone?) 8.00 am: A communion. I concluded…