I have a desk, a cat, a stack of folders, my laptop and a very nice view out the window (this is Switzerland, after all).
That first morning, knowing it was finally official and that I could justifiably call myself a Phd student, was exciting. First of all, though, I had to finish vacuuming the house, get the washing in and then out of the machine, and think about what we would all have for dinner, because I wouldn’t finish teaching my music students until 7pm and by then my family would be starving. Yes, it’s a glamorous life, academia, and it’s making me think fondly of the days when university was one part study, one part reading, and many parts having as much fun as possible.
But despite the fact that nothing has really changed from the week before, I can’t help feeling excited. I’ve been working on my novel for a few months now but suddenly it feels like a legitimate concern and not just something Mummy works on when she really should be throwing a ball or reading aloud.
Don’t ask me what my exegesis will be about (or even how to pronounce exegesis) because at the moment I couldn’t really say.
I have a list of potential themes as long a both arms but know that this is a risky path upon which to venture, as I doubt that anyone ever passed by submitting a list of bullet points.
Along with the bullet points I have questions…so many questions, which I hope to answer along the way.
And this blog? Well, my friends have already very patiently listened to me talk about the novel and my husband agreed to sickness and health but would, I suspect, have thought twice about something like this.
The truth is that when you live in a foreign country where the language you think, speak and write is not the one everyone else thinks in, speaks or writes, it makes it hard to connect.
And so, internet, I come to you. It might well be that I am my only reader, but it saves talking out loud.