WFH: DAY 117. 8.00 am: I awoke. ‘What!’ I faced the fearful prospect of being one hour behind my schedule for the remainder of the day. 8.45 am: A communion. 9.15 am: There were letters related to postgraduate admissions and assessment to send, research admin to commence, and next week’s clutch of resits and resubmissions under the Covid-19 regulations to consider. In the background, I listened to yesterday’s modified samples. One is nearly 50-minutes long. It has much to commend it, but only in parts. Which is fine, and to be expected. In any case, the last thing I want is a sample that’s too complete to break into.
11.00 am: ‘A virtual coffee’:
12.00 pm: Back to the samples. The task, now, was to listen intently to what had already been made, before making anything else. I reached for two other books from my past that would furnish me with references to source material dealing the audition of apparitions. If ‘Seen in the Air’ represented a portentous visualization of dreadful things to come, ‘Singing in the Air’ [working title] represented a prophetic audition of ensuing blessing. The two compositions were, in this sense, a complementary pair. As such, they ought properly to be developed together:
1.40 pm: A sifting. The 50-minute sample for ‘Seen in the Air’. The accounts don’t mention sound. What the witnesses saw was the equivalent of a silent movie projected across the sky in Cinemascope. Thus the composition is a translation into sound of that which was only seen and felt: an auditory metaphor, in other words. I scavenged the sample for usable parts. Outside, the wind gathered and abated; periodically, the sun broke through the rain clouds, and showers forced washing to be hastily retrieved from the line, outdoors. But the promised storm had yet to reach us.
By 5.00 pm, the sub-sample extraction was completed.
7.30 pm: There was another interview panel to prepare for. A reflection on ice-cream, as a consolation: