I have just received a mysterious message on the answering machine asking if I was ailing since it is at least three days since I have written a blog.
The truth is that I have never wanted to feel compelled to write something if I haven’t got something to say. I have been recovering from the shock of becoming a knicht and answering the wonderful deluge of correspondence from all corners of the globe. And this weekend I have particularly been mourning the loss, a second time, of Glasgow School of Art. It seems unbelievable and unfair that one of Scotland’s greatest architectural masterpieces – the ruggedly solid and beautifully detailed Glasgow School of Art – should have burnt down not once, but now twice: the first time because of a projector catching fire and this time on the night of the students’ graduation.
I have been trying to remember it from the few times I have visited, never recently, and can only recall its noble hillside setting, the sense of Scottish baronial massing, and the way that the art students treated their masterpiece so magnificently unceremoniously.
I suppose that the craftsmen will just have to go to work again and recover what they can.