After six years of joy and anguish, my degree in English Literature is complete. I've revisited old favourites, learnt to love Middlemarch and developed a hunger for books that will not go away. I've felt the pleasure and pain of creative writing too. Whilst a well-crafted poem still eludes me, I have some short stories to polish and notebooks brimful of ideas.
Study has become so much a way of life, sandwiched between cricket practices, school runs and my working day, that I'd braced myself for the anti-climactic 'what now?' feeling that often accompanies the end of a major project. I needn't have worried. Reading, writing and blogging about books creates a never-ending chain of opportunities. There are so many new authors to discover and literary conversations to be had.
Now I can indulge my literary whims without a hint of guilt.