Another grey day with a chill in the air. My body thinks it’s still February and wants me to go back in the cave to finish hibernating.
ON DECK: Unless something else happens during the day, I’m bulling my way through to the end of a treatment and then going to a new project outline tonight.
INBOX: 75, but that’s mostly delivery notifications. Ran out of everything at once.
LISTENING: Night Tracks.
READING: PROCESS: THE WRITING LIVES OF GREAT AUTHORS
OUTSIDE: this article on THE PAPER:
Where are you?
OG: I’m home today but I usually work at the Cardiff University hospital library. It’s got a good, studious atmosphere, as I’m surrounded by lots of extremely stressed medical students drinking Monster energy and reading about bones.
What can you see from your desk/ through the window?
EM: I don’t have a fixed desk space at home—sometimes I sit by the front window, but it can be quite distracting. Like the other morning I ended up charging a scaffolder’s tools cos the guy he was working for on the street wouldn’t open the door to him, then I ended up chatting for ages with a different guy who used to live in this house, who made his presence known by shouting, ‘Is the pond still out the back?!’ at me repeatedly through the window.
In the garden, it has come to this: plant hats.
So many of the gardens on our street have been paved over that it seems all the slugs and snails in the postcode have come to live in ours. Therefore, I’m trying everything I can find to help my plants survive.