The Beast has been handed in, delivered, left on a desk, abandoned, passed over and given away. It has finally gone. I have finished. Getting this far has been a catalogue of bad omens: printing issues, ink issues, terrible headache upon waking, left hockey stick, school closure for one child and coffee spilt all over self on M54. But I have managed to get here, albeit stinking of coffee, and get it delivered.
All I have to do now is pack up my funny still life things for the exhibition in Walsall, unpack them, drink wine and bask in glory on 1st October, and then wait. Wait for results day (aka Brexit No Deal Day (aka Hallowe’en)).
I feel mixed emotions: relief and grief, happiness and sadness. This may be the end of my formal education journey. I will soon have two BAs and one MRes. That quite nice, I think. It’s a party conversation opener at least. (‘You did what? Why? Are you an artist then?’) I would like to think that my grandma, who was always a bit of a champion of my artistic self, would be proud. I hope so.
As for what is next, I’m not sure. The lure of a PhD is extremely strong but I don’t want to undertake such a arty farty pursuit lightly. I need a good, solid, unique yet relatable research question first. I need time. I love the arty farty reading and writing but I need a reason to do it that lies beyond the big floppy hat at the end, seeing Dr on my post and being able to open a creativity clinic. Watch this space. I have other projects on the go as well so it will come down to my ability to juggle at the end of the day. I’ve been juggling for seven years so I have faith that I could continue juggling if I take that path. What’s one extra ball? Nothing really.