Installing it (designer David Mitchell)

I feel like the spacecraft Rosetta sundered from the little lander, Philae, which has to fend for itself on a comet. After what seemed like a journey of four billion miles, my exhibition of Supreme Court drawings has landed right way up in the foyer of Pinsent Masons' Broadgate office. Come and look (during office hours).

In case of mishaps I've brought an art conservation kit which includes pliers and my friend Daniel. I ignore basic problems such as my bloodstain on a picture (a Twix for the person who spots it).

People come and go. The lifts intone: 'Doors closing. Please mind the doors. Doors opening.'

A glamorous team of four abseiling window cleaners rock up, all ropes and clips and outdoorsy job satisfaction.

Reflected arrow highlights Dominic Grieve QC MP

Hank, the benevolent master of ceremonies in the huge reception area, brings me a Flake. He's got a point.

I think of the refugee who lived in a departure lounge at Charles de Gaulle airport for 17 years. Still, my exhibition comes down at the end of January.

People don't come to an international law firm to study drawings, but those who stop to look seem to go for the pictures of the souvenir teddy bears.

After dark I walk through the City. I pass some urine-scented flowerbeds full of plastic-looking but real anemones. I navigate by the fixed stars of Christopher Wren.

A poem by Andrew Motion is chiselled on benches outside the court