Eleven minutes, or 'I can neither confirm nor deny the presence of nuclear weapons upon any Navy vessel'

Working hard on 'A Highland Romance' this commission for Manchester Art Galleries and the Manchester Literature Festival, due in Monday. The good thing about commissions is they force you out of your comfort zone. This week I've rediscovered William Morris's Icelandic Journals, researched Victorian landscape painter Henry Moore, submarine slang, and worked out how long it takes the RAF GR4 Tornado to travel from Lossiemouth to Burra (178m) at top speed. The latter very unsettling, and I'm kind of looking forward to getting back to carnivorous bog-plants and clams.