I'll tell you about something nice. Today was a nice day eventually. The sun shone, it was a little warm on my body for a time, walking down the long steps to our block. I enjoyed, as is my wont, watching The Gilmore Girls under my red blanket when I got inside. All afternoon I resisted the urge to do anything useful; except on reflection I did dye my hair and clean the kitchen...
I looked at our little fledgling plant in the box on the balcony and thought about homing a cat with FIV. The radio was on in the kitchen like a sonic link to the rest of the world: while listening I imagined the DJs in their booths with their crumbs and emails and problems-at-home. I remembered when I was doing A-level art and we would sit together listening to the radio. I wished my job was like that, nice people sitting in a comfortable silence making things. I supposed that is what everyone else wants and hence the fuss about holidays, and weekends and the Sunday Blues.
I am probably at a pretty good age to have a little crisis about this and that - time, almost time, to re-order and to 'fit'. My supervisor said yesterday in his Marx lecture that education is the same as discipline. Maybe the dread made me get into all this crap. Maybe I should get as far away from education as possible. Dry Stone walls.
