June 4, 2020

WFH: DAY 60. 8.00 am: A communion. The clock is ticking. Deadlines approach. 9.00 am: Back to report writing. These would be completed by the end of the afternoon, at the latest. In the background: BBC Radio 3’s Chorale Evensong from Tewkesbury Abbey in May 2014. There used to be a good ‘chippy’ in Tewkesbury. When I was a child, my parents and I would regularly end up there at the conclusion of so-called ‘Mystery Trips’. These were Bank-Holiday coach rides offered by Jones’s bus company in Abertillery. It was something of a mystery only when we didn’t end up at that ‘chippy’.

11.00 am: An informal Teams conversation with one of our heroic postgraduates. Levity is a tonic. The day cycled through the seasons, hour-by-hour. 12.00 pm: I caught up with clutch of ailing students. For some, the Covid-19 crisis comes on top of all the other challenges to body, heart, mind, and soul that they’ve endured this far. 12.30 pm: Back to reports, which had begun to roll out like wallpaper.

House (detail) #37:

Lunchtime: How quickly the dishwasher fills when all your meals are eaten at home. 1.45 pm: On with the last bunch of feedback reports. In the background: Havid Jabib’s Mother Eats Her Food with a Straw (2020) — an engaging example of the harsh-noise genre. Noise music, so called, is the close sonic analogue to Abstract Expression or, rather, its surface effect. Elements of harsh noise contribute to some of my own compositions. But I’ve yet to discover a justification for making an entire piece based on this aesthetic. 2.45 pm: Feedback complete. On with a review of Dr Forster’s comments, and a consideration of her reciprocal feedback on mine. 3.30 pm: I heard the train depart from the station.

House (detail) #38:

I proceeded to moderate the marks given for the website project of the MA Vocational Practice module. At home, all hours are working hours if you’re not careful. Even when not working you’re, as it were, still in the office. Freelancers have remarked on this phenomenon in normal times. 4.00 pm: I waded through the snow of afternoon emails about marking deadlines, resit policies (and deadlines), and plans to relaunch the university in September. The Uni-war (being the capping stand-off off by the English contingent against those of Scotland, Northern Ireland, and Wales) is getting meaner and more entrenched. No good will come of it, mark my words.

4.30 pm: An escape into the great outdoors. Signs of the times:

7.30 pm: An evening of mark calculation and verification. (In the background: hit singles from the 1980s.)

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