6.00 am: Awoke; arose. 6.50 am: Before breakfast; looking towards Pendinas:

7.30 am: A paragraph on racial tension in the USA during July 1964 (when Scourby recorded The Talking Bible) needed to be written; then the ‘That One Day’ composition descriptor would be completed. A busy day of MA tutorials lay ahead. I cleared my inbox and packed my ‘school bag’ in readiness for a walk to the Old College. 8.15 am: A communion.

I began the day at a local watering hole reading through a text submission from one of my PhD students. Weather-wise, the outlook began optimistically. On, then, down Pier Street to the Old College for the first of the tutorials:

Clarity and awareness descended on our conversations. I don’t presume these things will presence themselves always, and value the occasions when they do. 11.00 am: Back to the mothership via a pharmacist, to procure vitamin C tablets.

11.15 am: A period of admin and personal tutorial consultation. The sun moved in and out of the cloud banks. The mood of the day shifted correspondingly. The day would not resolve itself one way or the other in this respect:

After lunch, at the School, I engaged four of my part-time MA fine art students in their fortnightly tutorials. There’s forward movement on all fronts. Students develop at different rates and times. Their progress is never synchronous. Like plants, some come into blossom early, while others, later. Tracy’s viridian:

In the course of one tutorial, I mentioned Mark Gertler’s Agapanthus (1914). I’d first come across the painting, during my early teens, in a battered book on modern painting (or some such title), published around the 1930s. My mother, who was an assistant in the town library, used to bring home books (relevant to my interests) that were too old and tatty to remain on the shelves. This was one of several paintings that made me want to paint. I still think it’s an astonishing work.

4.00 pm: As the late afternoon light gave way to evening, the subwoofer of a PA system pounded forth from the site of the public fireworks display (which would be held this evening) in the distance. The sound penetrated and appeared to occupy my office – as though it was emanating from somewhere within the wall before my desk:

5.15 pm: The homing instinct set in.

7.30 pm: As ‘pops’, ‘phuts’, and ‘bangs’ punctuated the silence outside, I began entering the composition descriptors onto The Biblical Record‘s bespoke website.

Observations and principles derived from today’s engagements:

• T: ‘If I gave you the answer to the problem, then, I’d rob you of the opportunity to fail and, thereby, learn a far more weighty lesson than success could ever teach you’.
• Every good work is the seed of a great many more.
• Learn to let go of your initial intent when the work determines its own.
• There’s no shame in surrendering when the battle cannot possibly be won.
• If you aren’t fully convinced of a course of action (particularly one that will demand a great deal of you), then, don’t pursue it.
• We’re apt to give up hope when the circumstances of our lives seem unlikely to ever change for the better. We’re apt to give up hope when it seems unlikely that we’ll ever change for the better.
• Formulas can be deadly.
• Not knowing where you are is a good place to be.
• If you know where you’re going, it might just be that you’ve been there before.