8.00 am: A communion. It wasn’t going to be the best start to a day. Having taken the recycling bags from the garage to the main road, a gust of wind blew the garage door closed. I didn’t have a key to reopen it. But I did have a key to the front door. However, the gust had ripped through the house (by virtue of the back door having been left open) and blown the security latch over the door’s lock. My key was usefulness. I was as helpless as an intruder. Mercifully, a tall and lanky neighbourhood boy was willing to climb over the garden fence, enter the garage and open its door again, in order for me to gain access to the house by the rear entrance. Phew!

8.40 pm: A delayed and hurried trot to Old College, doing my civic duty by rescuing recycling bags that had been blown into the the road along the way:

There’s an anti-room leading to the West Classroom, where I teach. On entering today, I was gripped by an emotional memory of a time past, several years ago, when I taught others there. It was a good time. I could almost believe that I’d seen them again on the other side of the door:

Having witnessed two windows blow in during gales (like the one that was gaining speed and ferocity today) in the past few years, I was a little apprehensive about being in the studio. While the windows had now been secured with perspex, the glazing hadn’t been tested in a storm. I held the first two of the day’s MA fine art tutorials there, before moving, first, upstairs and, then, to a remote part of the building for the last. Thereafter, I pitched towards the mothership to set up the 11.30 am Vocational Practice class. The group performed in an exemplary manner. They thought as one, and with due seriousness:

After lunch and a further two tutorials, I headed for the station to welcome home a traveller:

4.00 pm: Once they were deposited at the house, I completed two further MA tutorials and an undergraduate dissertation tutorial. 5.40 pm: Homeward:

7.30 pm: An evening of tortuous and unexpected admin.