A ‘dream’ experienced on the boundary of sleep:

Dreams (or whatever this was) rarely explain anything that’s taking place in my waking life. Clearly, the experience referenced my recollection at Ynyslas yesterday. They embody what might be described as ‘felt memories’, as distinct from fully-fledged emotions. In South Wales, when I was growing up, unexplained, unsummoned, and (vaguely) unnatural occurrences, such as this, weren’t out of the ordinary.

I had an early appointment at Bronglais Hospital in connection with two of three operations that need to be undertaken this year:

My flare-firing had paid off (December 12, 2017). I sat, waiting, among anxious parents, forlorn Christmas decorations, a bound copy of the Readers’ Digest, shuffling patients, and staff moving at full tilt again after the holiday period; looking at carpet panels, which were securely gaff-taped to the floor; and listening to a ‘click’ that was almost a ‘clunk’, beating out time somewhere to my left.

Back at home, I apprised the university’s occupational health unit of developments before getting down to the beginning of the end of semester ‘markathon’. Due to the progressive deterioration of the nerve response from my elbow to my fingers, the pace would need to be slower. My capacity to type is now impaired.  Onwards …

Some principles and observations derived from today’s assessment:

• Don’t get side tracked by expanding upon biographical and marginal information that could be expressed as a single sentence only.
• Always have the question at your elbow, and ask yourself in what way does the essay, at every point, help to answer it.
• Be careful not to be reductive in your interim and final summaries.
• Sentences should be sensible.
• Structure is the chassis of the essay. Everything is built on top of it.
• Ideas are the fuel that propels vehicle forward.
• Argument is the steering wheel.
• Illustrations are the windows.
• Content is the wheels.
• You are the driver.