Words. Then pictures.

The library had one book that I looked at which offered some longwinded expose of the British art market, apparently providing evidence that there is curruption around etc. Many Phaidon 'best of' collections are available, as well as some highlights from 'how to draw incredible monsters' series. After that I went on through the high street I was eyed and waved down by a young unaffected idealist with an Amnesty hoody. He showed me things going on in other cultures that my £6 could help to stop. I was interested but also annoyed, saddened and distracted by my own confusion about being 'back here'. So far, so dissertation irrelevant.

After a [rounded] 30 minute conversation with Amnesty Lad, I went to the Downs. I stopped at the King's Hall for a £1.10 drink-in coffee and wrote a bit, trying to make some sense that would lead to 'work', that stupid bloody word, pretending that there is some universal definition that sneers at any activity that isn't part of its gang. Bollocks and up yours work.

I have spent hours with box contents, defragging my bedroom floor. Amongst the cack, I found some things that I hoped would look good in my internet diary. And here they are:



My friend with the propeller. Please don't stare.



A cup I decorated back in my KIAD days. Note that I have not improved since.



This may refer to something very serious but my name's on it so it must be me.