Why does it take so long?

For me to write bloody essays that is. Had already hand-written a rough draft earlier today, and yet still took 2 1/2hrs to type and clean it up. Don't think it's only down to my appallingly slow keyboard skills either, but I'm never going to manage the major assessment pieces if it takes this long to finish a poxy essay! Really think I'm lacking the basic pre-requisites of a writer. Things like aptitude, talent and words-per-minute. This course is probably the most masochistic under-taking I have ever embarked upon – way beyond my comfort zone. Especially now, as I'm bursting for a pee but reluctant to intermit and leave this mindless wittering.

Reading and writing achievements for today? Read the letters page of the Cornishman as it happened to be open on the floor by my bed; a reject letter from the Noon Foundation regarding my request for funding; a ski holiday brochure enticing me to throw all caution to the wind and take the kids to the snow for Christmas – sod the fees (second installment due in January) and general living; plus five more pages of Wuthering Heights in my lunch break. Down to the final three tracks on the last cd of Jazz, shame really as getting in the habit of it. Do have another audio book on loan but it doesn't look as good. Wrote the essay entitled: People from up-country shouldn't be allowed to holiday in Cornwall; and a short note to John Clarke to ask whether he'd be prepared to talk to me about his book, Not Writing, for a possible bloc article. Apparently he's a bit of a recluse, so not holding my breath on that one. When you list it like that it seems pretty impressive, but of course, it's not.

Spent 5hrs at the Tate as the model for a life-drawing workshop based on the current exhibition of Roger Hilton's work. Wanted to see the W.S.Graham poems they had downstairs as part of it, but the gallery closed to the public now on Mondays, and they would've had to find a security person especially to accompany me, so couldn't. I do, however, now have my name on the door if I want to come in another time. Also, asked who was responsible for writing the artist blurb on the walls. The curator apparently. Must ask Mimi at Badcocks if she'd be willing to talk to me about the artist profiles they do for their publicity, and show brochures.

Went to choir, which was probably a stupid thing given that it's 1.30am already and I'm still doing this. Also because I've barely seen the little kids. Passed Lucy as I was coming home and she was cycling off to gym. Said she made herself some pasta, but didn't quite cook it for long enough. She ate it anyway, even though it was a bit on the crunchy side. Bless. Followed her up to gym to find out arrangements for the weekend as she's meant to be going up to Bristol again for another competition. Fortunately, they're sorting it for me so that she can get a lift up, and stay in someone's hotel room. If I was a good mother, I'd be making the journey up to watch, but there's no way I can spare the time. Will be hard-pushed to see Billy do his thing at Plymouth.

Billy staggered home from after-school football club and then promptly glued himself to a screen for the rest of the evening – either the television or the computer. How crap is that? Requests for them to do some music practise fell on deaf ears as usual. And now we never have any time to sit down and play family games, or just talk, or anything. Will this MA be worth it?