You might have noticed I've moaned rather a lot about work on my blog. I love where I work and the people, but I don't really love what I do. During yet another whining phone call sometime in January, my lovely mummy said "Maybe it's time you looked for another job." Somehow, this wasn't what I expected her to say, but I'm so glad she did. She gave me permission to dream. So I thought and I dreamt and what I came up with was doing a PhD in English Literature, somewhere exciting, like the US or Australia or New Zealand, or...
I worked out that a) there wasn't enough time to apply for a PhD to start in September this year and b) I wasn't likely to get accepted on one with half a degree in Literature and not much research experience and only vague ideas of what I wanted to research. So, my first step is an MA course. I've applied and been accepted on a course at Anglia Ruskin, starting in September. I've told my boss I'm leaving, though I haven't yet formally resigned.
The rate at which I've changed jobs in the last few years seems a little crazy. Since I started this blog I've had 2 new jobs, both of which I've decided I want to leave after not much time. (About 4 months in the first case, a year in the second). But for once, this next step has a possible step beyond it and even possible steps beyond that. It's taken me a long time to realise it, but I seem to be a natural academic. Being in Cambridge has helped me figure that out. Part of my dissatisfaction with this job is the feeling that I'm sick of supporting other people to do research and I want to do some of my own.
It's a little scary, thinking about being a student again, especially the financial side and the idea of studying abroad for my PhD needs a lot of thought, planning, prayer and hard work. But I'm excited about the prospect of doing something I love.