I often find that unexpected free time is a treat that has an illicit feel to it – as though I’ve split myself in two and am being duplicitous, both here (in this stolen moment) and where I ought to be, simultaneously. That these moments are also often surreal is something I put down to physiology, as I tend to be unexpectedly free when I am feeling too ill to do whatever else I should be doing. This morning, I finally finished reviewing a book for interface about art education. It was tough work, and I’m not particularly pleased with the writing, but I’ve tinkered so much that I can no longer think clearly about the book, or the subject under review. It’s one more thing removed from my gigantic task list. I now have the pleasure of four whole weeks before my next deadlines (another French/English clash). Still, right now, in this stolen moment, I’m watching the spring sky become dusky pink, hearing the coo of the wood pigeons and the chirp of cheery birds and I think some things can wait whilst I remember what it is to be part of something so much larger than myself.