Sam Wilson's Journal

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Every evening as I head home on the intertown, the view west from the bridge reminds me of all that I love most about Canberra. The sun setting behind Black Mountain, with the ANU tucked in amongst the trees and the lake there, all still and calm, and I wonder what more I could ask […]

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I am exhausted, but strangely not completely sick of this assignment. It’s beer o’clock, and I’m going to the pub. Part of me wants to stay and keep going—while I’m going well an’ all—but I think I’ve just deleted a function from the file I’m working on, and I didn’t notice for ten minutes. Sigh. […]

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Market day at uni, and the most exciting thing I can think of: that my mungbeans are up! They’re shooting forth in a little green row, cracking the clay apart, and are to me such wonderful little things. There’s not much that draws me at Market Day, on the other hand; an ominous shyness, prehaps, […]

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I awoke this morning with a very sore back, but got up, breakfasted, read for an hour and was out of the house by eight. I had no wish to go back to the workshop, nor to make anything; all I wanted to do was read. There is so much that I want to read […]

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In which I work on the catalogue for the workshop exhibition and do no woodworking but lots of thinking.

In which I work on the catalogue for the workshop exhibition and do no woodworking but lots of thinking.

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