Muse

My muse (or one of them, anyway) Sir Norman Blogster, appears to be back, but at the moment is a wisp of his former self and isn't posting very often. He spoke of football, one of the things I just don't understand, in his recent post, rather than architecture, which I aspire to understanding even if I continue to scratch my head every week over the blobs and shards and puffed up sheds in Building Design.

Another of Alice's muses (I can have up to nine, if I want to be classical) is Mr B*******, or B2A, who lately accused me of being quiet. Well, yes. I admit, I havn't been strictly blogging in the true sense of the word, ie regularly. Why? I'm tired. Not of blogging, no - but just that dragging, all-over knackeredness that overcomes everything else, until all I want to do is shout at everyone to leave me alone before curling up in a ball on the sofa sucking my thumb, which means I need a rest. This is one of the problems of working for yourself - the fact that a holiday of any kind is akin to planning a military campaign. I have to arrange a colleague to cover for me, otherwise I am not insured. I have to tell Tom, Dick and Harry and the rest of the world that I am having a week off. I have to brief my colleague on each of my jobs in case he gets a phone call from a panicky builder, panicking client or the Council. I have to put diverters and messages on my telephones, plus an 'out of office, get lost' message on my emails. This is just for one measily week - I cannot remember the last time I was able to take two weeks off - it would just be too much aggravation.

During the week off, I do all the things I simply have no time for otherwise, such as shopping for black clothes and hard hats, getting my hair cut so I can see properly again, de-gunking the fridge, servicing the car, cleaning the car, washing the car, cleaning the house properly, going to the dentist....

Then its back to work. I open the office door, to a huge pile of post, several of which are marked 'urgent' and need to be dealt with now. The answering machine is full of messages, asking me to ring immediately, despite the message referring them to my colleague. My email inbox is absolutely stuffed full of 'where are you ?' messages with attachments marked 'urgent'. When I ring my colleague, he has been on site to sort out a major problem and is busy putting a large and juicy invoice together for his time.

I have never yet worked out why, in all my years of experience, and despite the most careful preparation, the poo well and truly hits the fan the minute I walk out of the door for my first few days' rest in six months. Of course, by the time I have got through the first days' work, I am completely shattered - again - and wish I hadn't bothered going away in the first place. I lose money, I have to work twice as hard to catch up, it takes a real effort to organise....

Why did I become an architect? I could have stopped at the Part 1 and gone off and done something a lot easier.

Many years ago, at the beginning of my lengthy education, I was standing in a large, cold, medieval cathedral with a small, fresh faced and equally cold seminar group. Our lecturer started telling us about the building, with quiet enthusiasm and in an easily understood manner. Basically, his message was 'Look. Really look and see - isn't it marvellous?' At that moment I looked, then realised I had never, ever really seen a building before - they were just big things to live in, shop in, drink in - that was it. This time, I felt as if I had a giant magnifying glass, and could examine every detail. It was a wonderful Eureka moment and I often think of it when I am tired and jaded, such as now. The man was a true muse, a real inspiration.

I met him again recently, and the moment came to my mind once again. I was so overwhelmed, I kissed him.