The ‘frosty wind made moan’ throughout the night. Casements rattled, doors creaked, and I awoke at 4.30 am – my skull throbbing – and lay there until 7.00 am. I’d gone to bed with a full-orbed headache. A ‘bug’ had descended; the first of the season. 8.00 am: A communion. My focus was sporadic. 8.40 am: At the School, I noticed that nausea had set in. Fresh air, water, and paracetamol were the call of hour (every hour). My duties pressed upon me, nevertheless. The rate of deterioration/onset appeared to be slow. ‘Persevere until lunchtime, John!’, coached the voice. In a small department, there’s no back up. The plan: If I kept on working, then, my mind would be distracted from thinking about the illness. I felt like this:
10.30 am: A pastoral tutorial. 11.00 am: An Exam Board meeting. I really needed to be in two places at once. Mercifully, the artist and local alumnus Pete Monaghan stepped into the breach and delivered a talk to the Vocational Practice class on his work and the art of approaching galleries. I joined them for the last half-an-hour.
2.00 pm: Having staggered through to lunchtime, I received a second wind sufficient to fulfil to MA fine art tutorial commitments afterwards. 3.20 pm: Back at home to convene a short family celebration. The storm had little more to give for now, having blustered and punished all day:
4.00 pm: Admin to be done: uploads and orders. The headache reasserted itself. 5.20 pm: Dinner preparations and an evening off. Recuperation.