It’s not what I imagined for myself. Retirement was supposed to be an endless round of knitting jumpers, making patchwork and long walks with The Husband while I proudly watched The Daughter complete her Masters in Performing Shakespeare. It’s not turned out like that.
Personally, I blame My Colleague. If he hadn’t posted a link to the information I’d never have realised that here was an opportunity to do research in a subject I’d been obsessed by for years (access arrangements for exams, since you ask) and to work towards a PhD (a dream of mine). And if I hadn’t applied, I wouldn’t have been interviewed . . . and been offered it . . . and accepted . . . and now be in Manchester typing when I could be at home mastering cable stitch and watching Pointless after a long stroll along the cliff paths with The Husband.
I remember the day of the interview very well. It was a novel experience for me. I’ve been on both sides of the table for interviews but I’ve never been at one where I was so relaxed! I knew that my life would carry on along the path I’d planned if I didn’t get offered it. If I did – well that would be a bonus. I was promised I’d hear the next day but the time dragged on and there was no phone call – but there were rainbows – many, many rainbows – all brightly seeming to give me a message. And when the phone call came, all I could do was burble incoherently in shock.
So – here I am. And most people have been very supportive. The Husband acquired The Dog for ‘company’. The Mother asked if I’d go back into teaching afterwards (fat chance). The Daughter is immensely jealous. And Another Colleague, who retired three years before me, said, “What do you want to go and do that for?”
You can please some of the people . . . .