A sound like sweet, wild honey
WFH: DAY 26. 8.00 am: Communion, and proof of presence:
8.30 am: Emailery. Notifications, chiefly. A commendation to my Faculty, postgraduate ‘Ways of Working with Sound’ class on Monday:
Could you please bring to the session something with which you can make a noise (but preferably not a musical instrument). This could be an object to either shake, rattle, bang, blow, hit, or crash. The choice is yours. We’ll be convening a spontaneous ‘orchestra’ on this occasion.
9.00 am: A final proof-read of PowerPoints 1 and 2. 10.30 pm: Job done! (I think.) This is the first time in the semester that I’d felt comfortably ahead of my workload. A reward. (90%, and climbing.):
10.45 am: More emailery. 11.00 am: A further reward: I returned to the CD album, and listened again to last week’s phase-1 mixes. The running order of tracks needed to be settled before the design work for the CD and booklet could be dispatched to the record company. While exchanging correspondence on matters of import with Professor Meyrick, we exchanged memories (as we’re inclined to do, often, these days) about our years as valley boys. Today, we remembered our Mams on washing day:
In the terrace where lived during my childhood, every house dried the blankets and bedsheets (duvets had not been invented yet; a later continental import) on the same day, if it was ‘sunny and blowy’. The back gardens looked like a fleet of galleons with their sails hoisted.
1.30 pm: An adjustment (shaving-off 100 words of text). 2.00 pm: I listened once more to ‘The White Bow’. My intention was to exclude the composition from the suite. It has qualities and unique characteristics, but rarely engages me as I’d hoped it might. I gave the piece an hour and a half of my time, and threw the kitchen sink at it. The jury is still out. If I include the work, I may regret not having had the guts to turf it out. 4.30 pm: Walkout:
I took the route through the cemetery, Plas Crug Avenue, and the town centre (masked), returning via the Pier (where the starlings were gathering), Promenade, and backstreets, towards Llanbadarn Road.
7.30 pm: I’ve found the prosecution deliveries at the Senate hearing for Trump’s impeachment utterly riveting. An odds and sods sort of evening — reviewing art history submissions, catching up on Faculty news, and determining the schedule for tomorrow’s business and pleasure.
A reflection on ‘mapping’:
