MONDAY. A very busy week ahead, loads of people to convince and encourage and advise. Unfortunately I’m lumbered with an architectural dachshund. I have agreed to mind Bauhau while Darcy the critic goes on a ‘trope-aligning’ Cumbrian holiday with the eminent Auto-Modernist Tron Pitney.
Darcy has used his special charm to persuade Tron into joining us on the board of Wap Biddly Pish, an envisioning consultancy for the post-economic 21st century. At this stage, two of us are walking the fells around Coniston, spending our afternoons in a pub with its own micro-brewery and having sex all the time. One of us is dealing with clients and looking after the canine version of Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
Bauhau is a metaphor for the architectural profession itself: neurotic, overdressed and kept. Darcy’s left a vast collection of neatly labelled clothes. ‘Monday daywear – burgundy body stocking by Moncler Gamme Rouge’. Ridiculous. He looks like a fillet of beef on legs. At bedtime I’m required to insinuate a bloody DOG into ‘Brutalist pyjamas’.
TUESDAY. When you’re talking to someone about the design magazine wallpaper*, what sound does the * make?
In the salons of London, this has acquired the status of the ‘one hand clapping’ question. Ignoring the * is not an option. Every time you write wallpaper* it has to be lower case and in italics. This is verbally rendered as a winsome sigh. But the * is enigmatic. Now key opinion formers have asked for a definitive ruling.