Belonging

It has been far too long since I committed to my blog.
 
This is not because I haven’t had stories I wished to share, there have been several. The one story that I am sorry I didn’t relate at the time, was easily my happiest day during lockdown. An invitation by Farmer Eck Phillips to feed milk to his orphaned cows and stroke the ears of the donkey that freely wandered the farm. The experience was unexpected, surreal, and innocent.
 
The first reason for my reflective absence was work. It has been exhausting. I have laboured far beyond my 9-5 remit this academic year to make the remote learning experience as straightforward and inspiring as I could. It has been a tougher year for my students though.

The second reason?
 
For the last several months I have been struggling with my sense of ‘self’. I have lived in Scotland for most of my life, but I am not Scottish. I was born in England, and yet I am not English either. I am adrift, searching for a new means in which to define who I am and where I fit in. This, I am sad to say, is the juncture I find myself at.
 
My search for a resolution has begun with the renovation of a garage which will soon be my new studio. To date I have patch plastered the walls to consolidate them. On Thursday last the electrician installed plugs and a strip light. My next task is to source a workbench.

​And so, a new ‘pilgrimage’ begins…