I’ve spent the day humping around furniture (don’t ask) instead of concentrating on preparing for my final placement. All of my muscles ache. The rat’s nest looks like a house clearance store. There are boxes of this and that all over the place. You can’t move for er, well, stuff.

There is a wry smile on my face as I type “stuff” because my English tutor was telling me yesterday that she was sick to the back teeth of hearing young people coming in for interview and when asked a question replying “you know, stuff”. In this case, though, stuff it is. The stuff of life, human detritus – books, soft furnishings, mirrors, photos, bits and bobs of kitchen equipment, candles, cleaning kit and half a tonne of other stuff that I might, on any other day, call junk. Guess what? There was even a trip to the dump as part of this great exercise in moving things around for the sake of moving things around. Guess what? About half an hour after getting back from the dump, it became obvious that there were another dozen or more things that should have found their way there too. Pah.

Sometimes, with the best will in the world and the most forward planning, you just can’t legislate for the things that pop up and get in the way. So, tomorrow I will have to try to ram in all of the preparation for the new school, not to mention the housework, some work on my dissertation and a whole host of other things as yet unknown or unconsidered.

At about 11pm I think (I’m writing the morning after the night before) I remembered the PaD and made myself shoot a photo. This is it. I’m not particularly proud of it. All it says to me is that reaching for the stars all of the time leaves you exhausted and incoherent.