My job title is Reader, and I agree with a senior Professor of my acquaintance who, a while back in my ‘annual review’, said — “You’re a Reader, do some fucking reading”. Yes, I do write in my books: call it ‘annotation’ and you can get away with it. Yes, this book does start with a discussion of Star Trek. But it’s all work, I promise.
I wonder how many organisms inhabit this house along with the two of us. None on an open basis — that is, no pets — but the cave spiders have long been part of the family, and then there are the more occasional sightings of tenants. This louse made a point of crawling down the study wall from somewhere behind the shelves at the top, and disappearing behind the radiator at the bottom. This may have been a one-off journey but for all I know it’s a regular commute.
After a spell of wide-ranging vistas and skies, all I saw today was this room, reclaimed from Joe now he has returned to Scotland. The implements of a day’s work are all in place. And my hair did need a brush. Outside, just more rain, anyhow.
Another day of intense inactivity. So uneventful was it, at least for me, that this is a photowhack — the one and only picture taken on the day. Plenty of work was done but in a physical sense I sat in my new study, listened to the rain on the roof, gritted my teeth at the iniquities of the British government. (If anyone thinks this farce is all going to lead to some fundamental change, think again — all we have is a number of corporate dictators still jockeying for position, until they can slip into place, without an election, someone like the bloke who runs the state in V for Vendetta.)
Yes, I have a new study — courtesy of a bit of moving and painting of what was, for at least 16 years, Joe’s room. But he doesn’t need it any more, at least, not most of the time. I kept Homer in there though, who is definitely looking at the camera.
I’ve had my eye on Joe’s room for 15 years or more….. and now he’s moved out, it’s mine. Let’s start the necessary conversion work with this nice shade of blue, shall we?
So schools and colleges had one day of life and now Bojo has said they’re unclean, like the rest of the country. So Joe gets to spend the next six weeks, maybe twelve, at home, while algorithms and their creators bicker to be given the right to determine his future. Conviviality and intimacy are things of the past, getting further away all the time.
Sometimes it is still possible to spend the working day sat in a comfy chair in a wood-paneled (well, sort of) study, reviewing the manuscript of a book. Counts as work for me anyway — it’s my book — but doesn’t lend itself to very exciting photography.
Being 42 