In a mere fourteen days I will (Visa willing) be moving to the United Kingdom, landing in London and train-ing my way north to the Kingdom of Fife, there to pursue (another) Masters degree-- this time in Creative Writing, specifically POETRY. I will be a member of St Leonards College at the University of St Andrews. I will be walking past this every day:
And I will live in a little fishing village on the Firth of Forth:
Which is less than a mile from this:All of this is quite an Adventure, certainly an Interesting Experience, or so I am told. It is an adventure which I have contemplated for many years with great yearning and hope. But now, two weeks from Blast Off, my approaching Adventure is causing much apprehension. Visa letters, moving house, selling cars, leaving husband, toting dog, catching planes and (not least) writing Great Poetry for marks--all of these things have contributed to my current dithering, figetting and generally fretting state. In this state it is nearly impossible to do anything productive including (but not limited to): sleeping, eating, writing complete sentences (let alone making poems), and speaking coherently to humans (I still seem to communicate quite effectively with canines). I walk in a daze of excited frenzy. I have completely lost any composure I might have had, which is a shame.
Because of my gradually gathering panic, I have been loathe to blog about my upcoming Adventure (i.e. "Interesting Experience"). Every one I meet asks me: "When are you moving to England???" (smiling down at me with vague parental pride). "Not England," I say, slightly annoyed, for this has happened to me 12 times today already... "Scotland!" "Oh yes," they reply, smiling with slightly less benignity, "Scotland! Will you be playing GOLF in Scotland??" "No," I reply. "What an Interesting Experience!" quoth they, "what an Adventure!!" And these statements are indeed true. However, I have grown tired of discussing my future Adventure with every person I meet. Especially when I feel (as I do now) great apprehension about this so-called Interesting Experience.
Who knows what will happen to me in Scotland? Will I discipline my muse? Will I learn Latin? Will I master Old English (I think not!). Will I make friends? Will I know, when the time comes, how to open a bank account? Buy a mobile phone plan? Pay my electricity bill? At nearly 26 years of age, I am a very defficient grown-up. And I am sad to leave my lovely husband who always takes care of me (cue the Andrea Bocelli..."Time to Say Goodbye!!!" la la la la !!!)
But there it is! There is no looking back! etc. etc. Off I go into the Wide Blue Yonder! there to succeed, or fail...
It matters not. God is sovereign: I must do my Litte Job--and do it as well as I can.
St Therese of the Child Jesus,
Ora Pro Nobis.
"Love! That is what I ask. I know but one thing now - to love Thee, O Jesus! Glorious deeds are not for me, I cannot preach the Gospel, shed my blood...what does it matter? My brothers toil instead of me, and I, the little child, I keep quite close to the royal throne." St Therese of Liseeux.
"And do you seek great things for yourself? Seek them not!" Jeremiah 45:5