I am the blogging equivalent of the shipwrecked sailor who had so many tasks to do he did nothing. I have mentally flitted through four or five blogging topics since I got up this morning at some unearthly hour to check I had put my clothes in the drier last night (I hadn’t) and that the newly poured resin on some paintings hadn’t flowed in some inexorable lava-like way onto the dining room carpet.
At 6 am I was in political soap-box mode and ready to debate the value of expensive rehab clinics. At 6.30 I had moved onto corruption in the police, government and media. By 7.30, I was ready to acknowledge my own pig-headedness and intransigence in matters of society’s values, and by 8.00, I had decided it was high time I raised the issue of just how prejudiced we all are and how this hinders world peace and prosperity.
By 9.00, I noticed I had failed to return a whole load of library books and DVDs and as I stormed into town to return them, I was inspired to write about the eclectic selection of books the Leeds Library enticed me into borrowing just when I had made a vow to read nothing but critical art theory over the next few weeks (a book on Queen Joanna; a book about the three great empires of Islam; Barthès on photography and a Realist-Procedural Japanese crime novel).
I then almost ran out of petrol (I’d never seen the gauge actually flatlining before) and had to trek around unknown parts of South Leeds with my sat nav to find a filling station which is a positively rare breed in the city these days.
And then the highlight of the week: carrying on the move into my new studio space and putting paint to paper in the 50 minutes left to me before rushing to catch a train.
So finally I sink into my seat and remember I need to post, and all the millions of ideas just… vanish. Well, clearly they come back as I sit and think through the morning, but none of it seems terribly relevant at this precise moment. Instead, I am overcome with happiness at finding myself on the train first class down to London en route to Paris. A delightful surprise. And it’s not just first class, but an entirely empty first class carriage. All thanks to my husband, who is world champion at spotting travel bargains and acting on them.
So I sit here happily and open up the Japanese crime novel. And my thoughts on world peace can await another day.