I shall do such things...

It is the end of the second week of the school holidays and the second full of week of my conscious uncoupling from teaching.  I've had the leavers' speeches, the flowers, the bottles of prosecco, the cards, the tears and laughter, and I've cleared out thirty one years of accumulated stuff from the cupboards at work - and binned most of it!  I still can't quite believe I won't be going back in September.

I'm not ready to 'retire' as such - this is more of a tactical withdrawal! - and I know there's going to be a considerable gap between my salary and the amount from the pension, but I reached a stage earlier this year when I realised that time is far more valuable than money to me. I'm hoping that my pension - which I can claim in October - will cover my bills and that this will allow me some time to decide what I really want to do. 

Of course, that quote from King Lear continues with What they are, yet I know not which seems entirely fitting, under the circumstances!  At the moment, I am waiting to see what the universe suggests to me.  

Immediate plans: the first week in September will see me head to Stratford upon Avon, using the last of the money from the fabulous Louis Marder bursary.  I'm planning to do a bit of research and at the same time 'decompress' from the manic year I've had.  I'm hoping Stratford will work its magic.  I haven't been there in three years and am desperate to go back.

The following week sees an International Theatre History conference - on Victorian and Edwardian Theatre - at the Tyne Theatre, one of the two Grade 1 listed theatres in Newcastle upon Tyne.  It is more or less on my doorstep and if I had been at work, I could not have attended.  Several really significant people from the world of theatre history are going to be there presenting papers and there are all sorts of events being planned across the three days.  

After that, who knows? I want to take some time to write, to keep researching and to focus on things which make me happier.  I really want to write about Benson.  If I don't do it, who will. And if I don't do it now, will I ever?

However, before that, I still have the summer. Last Sunday I went to see 'The Taming of the Shrew' in a marquee in Durham - shades of the Benson pastoral seasons were invoked as the theatre company fought against strong winds and the bells of Durham Cathedral!  Although I’m not sure Benson would have entirely endorsed the feminist re-reading of the final scene, I think he’d have appreciated the spirit of the occasion…