The Pearl Fisher

Last night was not a good one. I felt as if a crushing weight was hovering just above me. My breathing was short and sterterous, many times I had to resort to opening my mouth until it grew so dry I had to close it again. Now after counting down the early hours of the day I find myself lying weak limbed in bed. I have done very little constructive and must book my tickets to travel north to Manchester soon. There I am to meet up with messrs Griffiths and Bracey regarding a residency later in the year. In addition to this I have recieved a lovely letter from Anneka French inviting me to be in an exhibition called "Meleager's Garland" at Sir Joseph Banks Conservatory, Lincoln. The work she wants (a small collage) is either in amongst the packaging for my show in Bath (which is still in Bath) or at the bottom of any one of the piles of boxes that now constitutes my new studio.