WFH: DAY 42.
8.00 am: A communion. 8.30 pm: These days, the sound of a vehicle passing-by the house distracts me. Whereas, in the former life, it would have passed unnoticed. I’ve not heard Mr Wood Pigeon for several days. The screech of gulls isn’t as noticeable, either. Perhaps they’ve less cause to come inland; there’s no longer the detritus of takeaway meals strewn around the town for them to eat. Instead the song of blackbirds is conspicuous. (In the background: Chris Hughes’, Slow-Motion Blackbird (1994).) Thursday. Third year painting day. The long-haul day. My eyes will be like fried eggs by the close. But, first, an acknowledgement of final incoming submissions for Vocational Practice‘s Assessment Criteria project.
House (detail) #22:
Reality check: I’m safe and well at home; I don’t come into contact with infected people; I don’t have to either worry about whether my equipment adequately protects me or work long hours in a sweaty environment; I’m neither working to the point of exhaustion nor worried that my colleagues are doing the same; and I don’t have to make life or death decisions. My job is relatively cushy. Just get on with it. However, when and if we get back to teaching (masked)face-to-(masked)face, this reality will change significantly.
The students were in their stride. They know what to do and when to do it. We’ve each adapted. From this point on, the priority is less about making than presenting the artwork. While waiting for folk to show-up online for tutorials, I took time to catch up on how staff and their families were coping.
The news today is that this current crisis is likely to result in a mental-health pandemic. At the risk of sounding heartless, this is hardly surprising. I imagine that young people in the 18+ range will effected the most. The present crisis has already disrupted their education, which, in turn, will hamper their job prospects. Their sense of hope, optimism, expectation, and entitlement will be severely challenged. They’ll need all the support that the generations above them can offer.
11.00 am: Respite:
1.30 pm: Back to emailology, student anxiety, clearing the way, and making their paths straight. 2.00 pm: The afternoon shift. The Powerpoint submissions (in lieu of the physical exhibition) were shaping up. The spirit of finalization has descended upon our discussions, and with it the melancholy of departure.
The eco-friendly toilet rolls had arrived. The packaging reminded me of old-fashioned sweet wrappers. Under normal circumstances, this item would have passed unnoticed too:
4.30 pm: A walk … to town, today. I wanted to visit the railway station. It’s been such a long time since I’ve travelled. (I promise that I won’t take trains for granted again, ever.)
7.30 pm: On with a little postgraduate admin before sizing up the Art in Wales projects that I needed to start marking. 8.00 pm: The evening Bronglais benediction.
