A Life in A Day

Up at 5.20 am. Usual morning ritual: cacao, matcha, chilli and honey with oat milk. A few Duolingo exercises.

I’m heading into Glasgow this morning to meet a couple of the team behind the King’s Baton Relay for the Commonwealth Games. As a freelance artist, I’ve been shortlisted to decorate the Scotland baton. I heard this news a few weeks ago, and I’m still reeling.

I make some sandwiches to take with me, pack my small rucksack with a few essentials, and walk to Kirkconnel train station to catch the 0718 to Glasgow Central. It’s a pleasant walk through the village and across the bridge over the River Nith. I feel so fortunate to live in this quiet, beautiful part of the Scottish Lowlands.

Sitting on the train, I open up a fresh page in my artist journal notebook and begin brainstorming for an unrelated art project on themes of sustainable cocoa farming and women’s empowerment in Columbia. With Easter just around the corner, I focus on the image of a giant chocolate Easter Egg to symbolise new beginnings, and a surreal chocolate landscape takes shape in my mind, as I gaze out of the train windows and watch the undulating sheep-covered hillsides flow past. I spot three roe deer in a field, startled by the train.

An hour and a bit later, we pull into Glasgow Central station, which I’m relieved to see is more or less functioning again following the recent fire, though the renovation work will no doubt continue for a long time to come. I’m a wee bit early to meet with Colin and Louisa, so I go for a walk through the city streets and watch people bustling about on their morning business.

The meeting itself is friendly and informal: just an initial chat and a chance to hold the actual baton in my hands, get a feel for its triangular prism form, its smooth polished surfaces and tapered ends that allow it to be grasped by baton runners. Colin tells me that it is made by a local carpenter and furniture maker named Tim, using wood from ash dieback trees sourced within a 5 mile radius – a remarkably sustainable enterprise. The baton is one of 74, each one representing one of the countries of the Commonwealth competing at Glasgow this summer. “But this is the star baton”, says Louisa, smiling. At one end of the baton, there is a snugly fitting plug that conceals a hidden chamber in which the King’s message for the Commonwealth Games 2026 will be placed.

“Am I allowed to ask how many artists have been shortlisted in total?”

“Four”, Colin replies.

“Oh my goodness!” I’m staggered to hear this – I had assumed I was one of many.

I photograph the baton from all angles, ready for creating a detailed mock-up of my design submission, which I’ll present to a panel later this month.

I feel on a high as I catch the train back home to Kirkconnel. On the journey, I begin to visualise how the baton might look and what imagery I might include. My partner Jason greets me proudly – he can’t believe either that I’m one of four artists shortlisted to decorate the King’s Baton. Whatever comes of this, I’m super chuffed to have got this far. There’s only one thing I want to do now, to celebrate, clear my head, and ground myself: I pull on my running gear and head out. I wonder whether the other shortlisted artists enjoy running. The morning’s meeting flashes through my mind as I run. I stop on the other bridge over the River Nith to stretch out and say thank you to the universe. The dark waters chant below me, running under the bridge.

After a shower, I grab some lunch, still in good time to be ready for a courier collection at 3.30 pm. I’ve got a Bull statue being picked up. A not-quite-lifesize fibreglass statue of a bull, which I’ve painted with intricately detailed portraits and cityscapes to represent the history and heritage of Birmingham. The statue has been commissioned by a lady who has family connections with Brum, but she’s having the piece shipped directly to her holiday home in the Algarve. I’ve wrapped the Bull as thoroughly as I possibly can, ready for his long voyage, several layers of bubble wrap and cardboard, every scrap of which I’m proud to say is recycled. The courier driver arrives promptly, we wheel the Bull from the garage up the drive on trolleys, and I help him load the 50 kg statue into his van.

This afternoon, I have a long catch-up with my dear friend and fellow artist Jane, and we talk about art and running and the adorable baby highland coo that I recently sent her some photos of. I found out the other day that the wee highland coo, who lives with its adoptive family in a field in Kirkconnel, is named Buttercup. It has a wee red coat to keep it warm. I know I’m not the only one who regularly stops to take photos of Buttercup.

I spend the evening dreaming surreal chocolate-scapes into being.

Update: 28th April – sad to say that my design was not selected, but what an experience and an honour to get this far.

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