A Saturday afternoon of no work whatsoever and peaceful reading in the newly restored polytunnel here on Sarah’s allotment. Which is kind of mine as well now, as I’ve been here most days since Liverpool University closed its doors a year ago. Writing and working with my friend Abi as we both get on with our PhDs as best we can. In the absence of a university that’s a distant memory now.
Though not quite as much so for all the students living in the university halls opposite. They’re always up and down the road outside as I arrive and leave the allotments. On the way back to their expensive rooms for yet another online lecture they could be joining in with from wherever home is. Except they’re here for the student experience they’ve been longing for, which I understand, and the university’s rent, which is beyond understanding.
But anyway I’m not not going to spend any more of my Saturday afternoon talking or thinking about an institution that feels mostly like a memory. Nor do I want to talk about the pandemic any more than mentioning it’s been a year now.
NickCave, in my headphones, has just told me we’re not going to get to Albuquerque ‘any time this year.’ And I’m ok with that. But the Wirral would be a treat.
Meanwhile and for now, back to my peaceful reading while the bulbs we’ve planted get going in the growing light.
Soon there will be tulips.