Monday, February 19

 

 

Irma had worked most of the weekend on her application, although I had only helped on Friday. She therefore got up an hour later. I got up at the normal time, realised I had eaten too much over the weekend, got washed and dressed, and crept out as quietly as a mouse. Once outsidee I found that the temperature had dropped drastically. I also found that I had left earlier than usual. I walked to Itäväylä and arrived at the bus stop at exactly the same time as the bus.

I spent the morning in discussions, answering mail, and doing administration of one sort or another. At 11:00 I went out and bought some bananas and tomato juice.

In the afternoon I read through a mail I had received about the event in Manchester in April. Steven Hadley will speak on the same panel as me. He also works with Sara. He has written to make contact and to tell me that my time has come. (Not in so many words, but I can read between the lines…) Apparently cultural democracy has become a hot topic in the UK and I can expect a lot of interest in whatever I have to say.

Steven sent me a copy of a review he had written of a recent report that attempts to purloin the term, and I read through this, and the references cited at the end, and any links that they led to. My spirits rose or fell; I remain uncertain which. They certainly shifted position. It appears that I shall shortly re-enter a thirty five year old argument that someone somewhere has chosen to reignite. Steven suggested that the argument will not easily go away: “suspect there will be more publications forthcoming”, he added.

I took this as a cue to sharpen my quill.

At 16:00 Irma phoned to say that her mother had phoned to say that the hospital had phoned to say that Irma’s father grew steadily weaker. She came to collect me and we drove to collect her mother. When we got to Töölö I thought he showed more awareness and willingness to respond than yesterday. He replied to a couple of things I asked him with an emphatic “yes” and said a very clear and strong “goodbye” to me when we left. She sang along when Irma started singing and he initiated one round of singing himself.

The back of the car contains some milk and juice cartons and, on the way home, we stop at Prisma where we drive to the basement to recycle them. I have not taken a photograph today, so I look at the ceiling and photograph that. Today’s image will take the form of a technical exercise in which I will try to extract some interest from something I have to hand. Of course, if the process of taking a daily photograph has taught me anything then I will find my eyes drawn to something of potential interest, and so I do: piping and metal.

When I get home I will play with the image with 4Points and Pixelmator and feel quite content with the final result.

I will read digital magazines, downloaded from the library, while the temperature continues to sink.