Bricolage

The students at the University of the East are doing presentations today, which means I've been trudging about the place bristling with camera tripods, the camera, my computer, my packed lunch and my bones to hold them all together. The job-lot is very heavy and I have been employing a certain degree of momentum to propel myself to my various destinations; I can travel about 3 metres forward after descending the stairs, using no energy at all; the down-elevator gives me about 2 metres if I store the propulsion. Going upstairs is the physical equivalent of a big, sad, sigh and at the moment I'm sitting in my office recharging my batteries through rapid consumption of Marks and Spencer's Red-and-Blacks, soup (that which has not spilled on my dress), coffee, and, in a minute, a banana. I have to time it so that I don't get the dry equivalent of swimmer's cramp, which means sitting still for a while and not swinging on the revolving chair, which under normal conditions is a fun lunchtime pastime.
I dressed appropriately for the gravitas of the situation in greys and blacks, with an unfortunate 'fetching pineapple' hairdo that appeared as a result of getting ready in the dawn twilight. At least I got my lipstick on my lips and not all over my face, which occasionally happens when it's applied at the red traffic lights.

I've been reading the draft of Lucy O'Brien's first novel and really enjoying it. I was only going to read chapter one, but I had to print off two and three because I needed to know what was going to happen next. I think that is a pretty good sign.
Yesterday Martin emailed me the mixes of our album, Hamilton Square. It is almost ready, and then we will have to find a company to release it unless we just do it privately.
I haven't totally given up on The Chefs. Once I've picked myself up and dusted myself off (ha ha) I will start all over again.