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Is it not ironic that the bronze-cast statues of slave owners all have a dark-brown complexion.

WFH: DAY 70. 7.30 am: A communion. 8.00 am: A review of the day ahead and tomorrow’s engagements. There was still much to do administratively. However, now was the time to also begin reclaiming some of the Summer period for my own work, and planning for the transition that was likely to take place this time next year. On with preparations for PhD research monitoring meetings next week and a review of late applicants for the MA schemes. My thoughts had begun to drift towards the issues of online provision, come September (which is by no means certain).

9.30 am: I made preparations for my visit to the surgery where I’d receive a blood test:

I loath masks. And this one clashed with my shirt. (A black version of the accessory is on order.) My glasses steamed up; it was like developing cataracts all of a sudden. My appreciation has grown for those NHS staff who have to wear this and the other items of PPE for an entire shift. The practice nurse wore a visor. Cool! I want one, to teach in. Because I was such a good boy and didn’t make a fuss at the surgery (which now resembles a Post Office), I rewarded myself with:

10.30 pm: My emails, posted at the start of the day, had spawned others in return. ‘Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days’ (Ecclesiastes 11.1). Or a just a few hours, in my experience. The administration was administrated. I returned to reviewing MA applications, while batting-off incoming projectiles and responding to requests to triple check the integrity of marks submitted.

12.30 pm: It took too long to get back to writing a text that has already taken too long to complete. At times like this, I begin to resent it. The project is eating away at time set aside for more significant endeavours.

After lunch, I accepted that emails would penetrate the atmosphere of my focus with the persistence of a meteor shower for the remainder of the day. Perpetual and incremental change will be an abiding reality for the next year. In our ambitions to provide a Covid-19–ready environment, and a satisfactory study experience, for students, every operation is having to be rethought from the ground up. It feels as though staff are dismantling the School while simultaneously building another one on the same site and living in it to bout. But staff and students have overcome all obstacles to-date magnificently. Therefore we have grounds for confidence in the future.

I sourced a pair of binaural microphone/earpieces with which to enhance my ambulatory field recordings. The microphones are attached to one’s ears and capture sound as heard in the ears. 4.30 pm: After the rain, I took off to the castle:

7.30 pm: On with writing, having watched a remarkable two-part documentary called College Behind Bars, about US prisoners who undertook undergraduate degrees as part of their rehabilitation. It was uplifting to see students who were in love with and committed to learning, responding to their professors’ interrogations maturely and with substance, being changed fundamentally by the process of education, and becoming not only more learned but also the wiser for it.

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