Shed heaven

I know several blokes who would think that heaven would have to include sheds. It wouldn’t be like the one in my garden, though, which has been mouldering away for over a decade. I was happy to let it decay gracefully, like an Andy Goldsworthy sculpture, but a bit of the roof flew off in the winds last week and I was worried that the next bit might hit someone, so at last it had to be knocked down – or sent to Shed Heaven, as The Son described it. (He added: Not to be confused with 90s Britpop band Shed Seven. Not sure they’d want it.)

Anyway, that was done over the weekend, although I can’t claim much credit; The Bloke did all the hard work.

I have done a lot of other work this week, though: lots of Artlift stuff, including writing a job description for the work I’m currently doing; writing to the Arts Council; and lots of stuff for Poetry on Loan. Our end of funding period has now finally been reached, and I’m most of the way through writing an internal report on all we’ve done for the last two years. Once that’s complete, I’ll be able to prepare the Arts Council report, and then, with any luck, they will give us our last chunk of money. We’ve come within £40 or so of spending all our income, so we won’t have to give much back this time.

I also ran a session with my group in Cirencester, who are astounding, and was able to give them the good news that their group will have a second term after all. Hooray!

After a phone call lasting nearly two hours with the Artlift project manager on Wednesday, I took some computers to Ledbury for the Poetry Festival, as you do, and had a really good session at the hospital in the afternoon.

In  between all this I collected a portrait of myself (now nicely framed) done by the lovely Kim Hill as part of our joint application for some work, and went to see Run all night. It was ok.

The hospital writeup took some time on Thursday, and then I had my eyes tested. They’re ok, too.

On Good Friday (yes, I know, bank holiday and all) I did some Artlift stuff and a lot of work on the PoL report, and on Saturday I sorted out a mail merge thing for letters to the people with a poem in the latest hospital book. I do mail merges about once every three years, so I have to work it all out again every time. Still, all I have to do now is print out and sign all the letters and put them in the envelopes (which I bought today), and make sure I get the right label on each envelope. I know how to have fun.

Over the weekend, I have managed to write a couple of poems; one’s just silly, but I quite like the other one.

I seem to have staved off an attack of cystitis (hooray!), and today we cycled into town and had a little boat trip on the river – the sort of thing  done on Easter Monday by people who have real jobs. And I’ve mowed both the lawns, carefully avoiding the two big heaps of wood from the poor old shed, which is now in Shed Heaven.

And this week I still have loads to do, and I have to decide something – it’s very much a head or heart decision, and I think this time again my head will win.

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