Weymouth. 23.6.18

Staying at the Royal Hotel, Weymouth. 4.50am. Been walking more of the SWCP. It’s now taken me 2 years (I think some people do it in a matter of weeks) to walk from Studland to the start of Chesil Beach. Today I’ll get to Abbotsbury and its Ancient church and see the Swannery on the Fleet Lagoon.

Been waking at 4am every day this week but who cares when it’s Midsummer- the best time of year. I think, no, I know I am invigorated by light, by warmth, by sun and this Summer is an important moment. Everything is more intense. It’s like when you have one of those days and you don’t want it to end and suddenly, elusively it does and immediately you know you won’t forget it.

Yesterday I really got a sense for the first time of how close how I am to leaving Heathfield. Even at this time of year when the exams are done and the reports have been sent and we only have one assessment to go the day unravels in a series of mini dramas and events and chats and instructions and confrontations and moments of frustration, disbelief and joy. So much is packed into a school day. It is as full of life as any day.

How many times have I retreated across the moor at Curry Moor, head and stomach in knots feeling like I’ve spent almost every ounce of mental energy that I can give in a day, but not for much longer. Not here. Not in the same way. All those sleepless nights. All those days and nights feeling the faint nausea that comes from that and the drive to do well, to not fail and to make it work. 10 years. A decade. Soon to be done. Just like the end of a day.

Back at the cottage getting ready to come here I felt so indescribably happy. The same happiness we feel when we’re children. It took my breath away. It wouldn’t last long. Why should I expect it to? Am I lost or am I free? I don’t know but I should be happy.

I did it.

All those notes back in the nineties questioning over and over where I would be, where I was going. Don’t forget that. I would never say it to anyone but I can say it to you. X

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