I put Radio 3 on in the early mornings and keep it on until after breakfast. He hears it when he goes for his first pee. What’s all that bollocks? he called up the stairs. John Shea had been playing modernist music all morning. That particular piece involved an Eastern European girl’s choir making bird noises. Mozart did come later, but much, much later.
The clouds are magnificent this morning and the light is Titian-esque. It promises fine.
I’ve almost finished my assignment – what a painful process it has been. You don’t have to do it, he says, just do the reading. He is right. I have nothing to prove and yet, I cannot let it go. The eternal student still looking for approval. I’m the only one who can set myself free from it.
Shall we have sun later?
