60,000 Miles

There was an old woman who lived in a shoe.

Dear Reader[s]?

[Hello, is there anybody out there?]

I can only apologise for the lack of activity on my blog lately. I  hope that my shoes are ample proof I have been far from idle. In fact I feel how my shoes look or do I in fact look how my shoes feel? These shoes have been worn throughout and worn out by my time at the Royal College of Art. I was hoping they would make it to the end but unfortunately they failed to toe the line and even I had to concede that I had to stop wearing them a] because my partner pleaded and b] when someone offered me money on the street. For the last 2 years – 730 days – 24 months – 104 weeks – 17,532 hours I have thought about and done nothing other than work my socks off (and shoes literally) on the MA whilst my partner has stared at 60,000 miles of tarmac travelling from A] here to B] there and back again.

The context of my current body of work is The Labour of Love and I can say that we have both performed it even if more often than not I was at A] here and he was at B] there. There is simply no other rational explanation for it. I’m afraid there will possibly be no rational thought (how can there be when running around like a loon has become recreational?), semblance of humanity (see above) or blogging until the last nail is in the wall and maybe even some time after that.

Yours