I have been writing an essay (due ages ago!) that I finally feel is coming together. But I fidget and start writing new to-do lists, thinking I should probably look at this art exhibition or write notes for this next piece or visit this artist's studio, now that I have time, even though I really don't have time and I should just finish this essay. Always a starter, never a finisher. Oh well. One task at a time.

//

83-year-old farmer to me this morning: "When are ye open? Are you happy living in Ireland? You're well used to it! I tell you one thing: We need a hundred thousand more people like you... The population is going down... The Brits left us in a bad state, people having to leave, and look at us!"

//

My current antagonists are the mother-in-law and a fly. The fly has been hanging about in the office for the past week. I tried to usher it out several times, but it won't go and it refuses to die. It just persists. I wouldn't be surprised if it was still here this time next year. I will probably have to give it a name at some point.

<<