Saturday evening I visited our local Arts Centre cinema to see Stan & Ollie. The actors embodied their subjects in a remarkable way. There was a poetry, tenderness, and delicacy in the work of Laurel and Hardy. Their slapstick has always seemed to me to be about something more than it appeared. They were our representatives: hapless and bungling humanity,…

Wednesday, January 167.10 am: For the remainder of the week, I’d participate in wall-to-wall assessments of the second and third year BA Painting, Research and Process in Practice, and Art/Sound modules, and the MA Portfolio module. Morning, afternoon, and evening are taken up with the business. All other considerations (and most of life) will be held in abeyance for the…

8.15 am: A communion. I’ve been pumping myself full of gluten over the past few weeks to ensure that my body has an opportunity to react against it, prior to a blood test for Celiac. I need a definitive answer. In the meantime, I suffer the consequences. 9.00 am: On with marking, and the Art/Sound submissions. The submissions are presented…

The best fruit often takes longest to ripen. Sunday. 6.00 pm: A winter’s evening: Monday. 8.30 am: A communion. 9.00 am: A full-on week of marking and assessments, PhD business and pastoral matters, furthering research projects in the spaces in between, and the ‘slings and arrows’ that being human necessarily engender. Which is why keeping a firm steer on each…

8.30 am: I acted upon last night’s ‘dream’. 9.00 am: On, then, with a combination of research correspondence, assessments, and writing. The next fortnight will be a cake mix of these components. Crucially, and above all this, I must clearly define what’s achievable in the year ahead. What are my objectives and ambitions? What must either change or be brought…

Thursday, 12.30 am: I completed by funding application. My mind was released to pursue other projects in the interim. 7.45 am: A communion. 8.30 am: I read over my application before sending, prepared for the day’s appointments and work commitments, and looked beyond the horizon of the week. (I like to know what’s coming down the track towards me.) 9.15…

From Clapham Common to Euston, and another Premier Inn, for my last night in London. A spot of shopping in Oxford Street, to begin. My decade-old key wallet (having been put through the washing machine more times that I’d like to recall), had finally fell into disarray. (The objective correlative.) I bought a replacement. If I’m sensible, it may outlive…

As I get older, my grasp on this world begins to loosen. Saturday. 10.30 pm: Off to the Museum of Brands, at Ladbooke Grove. To my mind, it was less about brands and branding, in the contemporary sense of that term, than brands in the old fashioned sense: being, the companies that made things. The ‘Museum of Stuff’ might have…