Wednesday 23 January

The Hatbox project – we’re going to be busy. At a meeting with co-conspirators Spike and Dylan up at the flat we decide on the timing of Manchester’s ultimate, possibly final, artistic project (the premise: to manufacture 300 hatboxes, stuff them full of art and flog them to the idle literati of Manchester). My role in the proceedings, beyond providing snacks ‘fresh’ from Market Street’s ‘Eurodeli’ (we are naturally drinking wine by the box), seems to be provoking the others into taking the course of action most removed from that humbly offered by yours truly. When I suggest a presence on the worldwidewotsit this is poo-pooed, when I suggest delaying the launch so that we can be assured of a piece in the Manchester Guardian, this is shit-shitted. When I once again pipe up about musical content Spike and Dylan mould a giant turd from the artists’ materials around us and use it to smother me, the quiche, and several prime cuts of salami. Still, I am impressed, as ever, by my fellows’ drive and determination. I must ensure my own artistic submission is up-to-scratch and not simply a link to my clunky and uneven 18th century mechanical journal.