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Well life never quite goes to plan does it?

The opening is four days away and I have got the stinkiest of stinky colds and a really sore throat. Thankfully, frequent testing shows it isn’t the dreaded Covid, but it is pretty rank, and unless I make a rapid recovery, could be a nightmare for the performance on Sunday. At the moment, I think I’m getting slightly better each day, but will that be enough? Who knows?

My theory is two fold: firstly, I’ve been working really hard and trying to get things done, and scooting about all over the place, running myself ragged; secondly, we have all been isolated and masked up, and now we are out and about and mixing together, ALL the germs, not just Covid, are having a party in our nostrils and throats. So here I am. I’m doing all the remedies, drinking lots of water, taking the pills and potions, and above all, forcing myself to take a couple of days proper rest.

In another part of life, in the studio lies chaos. My tranquil studio is besieged, and not a place for working creatively at the moment. It is stacked high with the work to be hung, the work NOT to be hung, posters and flyers, The Merch (Limited edition Drawing Songs Books and CDs) and the tools of the hang – hammer, drill, assorted fixtures and fittings, tapes, wires and string… and to my shame more that one or two half drunk tea mugs and a couple of apple cores that didn’t make it to the bin yet.

But then, weirdly, and if I’m being frank I feel it could have waited a week or three, I am struck with a thought that won’t go away, with an idea for a piece of follow-on work… again this is both sound, and drawing… and again, I have a collection of lyrics already partly written, which when sparked with a bit of inspiration from outside, will work really well when connected up with the visual that came to me at 4:30 this morning while making yet another soothing honey and lemon drink, in the hopes of getting to sleep. No chance. Seeing my brain in a state of stupor, my imagination has free reign and goes on the rampage. An hour or so later, the idea is lodged in my notebook, and can wait, until the exhibition is finished, the cold has gone, and the studio is tidy.

Then back to bed, to sleep till 11:30am. Proper poorly.


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