I sit down to write about architecture, a few pieces for my regular spot on Blueprint for Living. I have my notes spread next to the keyboard, things I’ve jotted down over the past days, facts I’ve checked, a book open with a large colour photograph of one building. There’s some banging going on from the house at the corner, where they’re nailing tiles into place on a new extension. It’s really gone up very quickly, that extension. Is it a new kitchen or just another living area? My phone pings as someone likes one of my tweets. That’s nice. And oh look, there’s a list of people who’ve liked my last Instagram post. So I scroll down to see if there are many new names or any comments. Yes, a comment about a photograph I commented on, so I respond. He’s mentioned Michelucci, the Italian architect I studied at university. Spent weeks wandering around Florence looking at his stuff but didn’t have the courage to try to see him in his villa in Fiesole. A small regret. Silly the stuff you don’t do.
Now, back to work. I press shuffle on my iPod for a bit of background music and write my first sentence. Someone’s singing something Baroque which is a bit jerky and frenetic so I press FF on the remote. Do I really have The Sound of Music on my iPod? FF again, and it’s gone to Mahler and I’m really not in the mood for Mahler right now. FF again and now it’s Mad Men. Nope, this won’t do. So I scroll through Albums and can’t find anything I really want so I settle on film music by Georges Delerue. Always good – a bit of Agnes of God, Le Mépris and that wonderful glowering piece from La Femme d’à côté – gosh, Fanny Ardant looked incredible.
Rightio, we’re off again. But I glance out of the window and a couple of pelicans are wheeling above in the sky. That sets me off on a reverie, wondering just how far they can see from that height. And that the air current must be strong for them to do that. And aren’t they lucky, to be able to wheel about in the sky like that. They hang out by the boat ramp waiting for fishermen who return with their catch and chuck them the entrails of the fish they’ve filleted. Or they stand on the top of lampposts, looking vaguely ridiculous and out of scale. I do love pelicans.
Back to work. I’ve got a few things here – an Australian building, one in China and one in Mexico. Never been to Mexico although my father’s uncle lived in Mexico. He was a sculptor, did lots of portrait stuff, won the Prix de Rome but went to Athens instead because of Mussolini and his politics. Worked with Henry Moore at Leeds but they didn’t get on. I keep meaning to research more about him. I’ve always imagined that he was gay. So now I’m musing about what it must be like to be a sculptor. Choosing marble in Carrara. Rather romantic.
So, here we go. Another sentence but this chair doesn’t feel very comfortable. My partner is away so I trundle his chair in and try that. Much better than mine. Maybe I need a new chair. Do a Google search of office chairs which all look horrible so decide to stick with what I’ve got.
Now where was I? It’s not exactly flowing … Maybe a coffee will help.