6.30 pm: As the sun rises earlier, then so do I. 7.45 pm: A communion.

8.30 am: I battled against the on-coming wind and rain in a landscape reminiscent of a George Chapman painting. There’re regrets, longings, and the pain of loss that come upon one suddenly and unbidden like a sea squall, and violently, like a blow to the abdomen. At such times, I search and return to letters, photographs, and places on the map – the relics and holy sites of holy passion. Why now? (9.15 am). And to what end? On these occasions, my instinct is always to pray about the object of my remembrance. For, perhaps, their need and my sensation have, in that moment, intersected.

11.10 am: A curious ‘coincidence’, connected tangentially with the earlier remembrance, occurred. Coincidences are usually either utterly meaningless or indecipherable (which amounts to the same). We are apt to read too much into them. Indeed, to my mind, it’s only when a third incidence – related and in close temporal proximity to the former pair – takes place that I sit up and pay attention.

11.30 pm: I began a day of third-year painting tutorials. Some principles and observations derived from today’s engagements:

• ‘It’s just painting. Just painting. Painting’.
• Sometimes painting feels like you’re walking in shoes that are two sizes too small: awkward and discomforting.
• It’s the quality of your vision, translation, and execution that makes for the quality of the work. The subject matter has precious little to do with it.
• It’s only when your exercise faith in the process that progress can be secured.
• You can change. You can improve. You can succeed. At the heart of that transformation is self discipline.
• Less is deep.

An excerpt from an unsolicited email (I receive a great many), advertising a mental health conference:

University staff are increasingly at the frontline of identifying and addressing mental health problems among school leavers and, it should be said, of mature students too. In the past five years, my job has changed substantially. The pastoral dimension is now significant, and layered on top of my responsibilities to teach, research, and administrate. There’s no shame in having a mental illness. Who among us is ‘normal’ in this respect? Often, it’s a matter of degree. But, left unchecked, mental illness claims lives unnecessarily. No one should feel alone when they’re going through the mill.

Is there a more beautiful colour than that of methylated spirits? It’s the only substance that can destroy acrylic paint:

5.30 pm: Homeward:

7.30 pm: Having coupled socks for an hour, I routinely cleared my desk of admin and prepared for next week’s classes.