The builders have gone, been relieved, dismissed.
Bodgit, Fixit and Leggit – sent packing. I hated it. Giving them the sack, their cards, the elbow. The discomfort, the embarrassment might have been sliced in two by the almighty power tool wielded by the Gaffer. That is if it had been switched on. Not much was switched on. Tools, brains, or is that Tools with no brains. So now the lovely old Ballroom looks as if the Blitz has taken place, just here, just in this one room. Cables hang from craters in walls. Floorboards once smoothed by the Strictly Come Victorians are scarred and hacked and act as buttresses for the wounded frame. Three wasps nests cling to the remaining ceiling joists, clearly visible by the daylight rushing through the toothless grin of a roof.
Enough. I am torn about whether to write more. One says ‘I don’t get it’, one says ‘go for it’, another; ‘go for it, but in a different way’.
Who am I, what am I writing this for? For me? For them? For the future, for the past, for nothing….
That was the Goings.
And now the Comings. Charles on Friday ont train fromt Smoke. Eli later on Friday ont plane fromt Uganda. But much more importantly:
THE DISSERTATION DESK
The fetid finger of fate played a hand. I was en route to ARC, a ‘wellbeing via art’ project, in Reddish. With a little time to doodle I was to call in on Victoria Dawson. My raison d’etre at MMU. I met her on a plane, then a year later, and all down to her, began undergraduate life.
Driving towards her home I passed a florist, and being ever lucky in parking, pulled up outside to buy some daffs/fresia/cyclamen.
Walking past the Red Cross Shop next door I spotted this desk in the window. I knew all those hours trawling CHARIDEE shops would pay off. An overstuffed Father Christmas was leaning dangerously on it, and I wasn’t even sure it was for sale.
Well it was.
And £30 later, the desk, the daffodils and me, squeezed in and took off down the A6, euphoria lasting just as long as the next set of lights before I realised this now meant
THE START, or the end of the beginning.
Essentialism: the doctrine that things have an essence or ideal nature that is independent of and prior to their existence
1. Educ. A theory advocating the teaching, on traditional lines and to everyone, of certain ideas and methods supposed to be essential to the prevalent culture (opp. to PROGRESSIVISM).
b. [tr. F. essentialisme.] The doctrine that essence is prior to existence (opp. to EXISTENTIALISM).
Essentialism; essence inborn, identity innately formed.. cannot be altered, genetic
Anti essentialism, make own essence/ identity through performance/compromise, unconciouscan be altered
Existentialists then, have no essence or nature, but make own meaning in meaningless world.