Pirates of Penance

August was supposed to be a quiet month, full of diligent study and a bit of relaxation. I planned to read through my thesis, write a book proposal, send out a handful of last-ditch job applications, write out answers to common viva questions, and spend some quality time on the Royal Mile in Edinburgh, enjoying their annual Festival. My viva was on the last day of the month.

My diary for September was blank. No one really knows how to plan the weeks immediately after the viva; in the best case scenario, I would have expected to spend two weeks fixing typos and getting the thesis printed. Realistically, I expected to spend a month or two making revisions. I hoped to pick up a little teaching in the St Andrews School of English (but figured I wouldn't, as teaching was scarce this year) and was all set to whisk I. off to the continent for his birthday and a "phew, it's over" celebration.

Some of that did, in fact, occur; the bits of the Festival we saw were varied and crazy and enjoyable. 

Two weeks into August, my advisor gave me a mock viva. We then had lunch to discuss a surprising turn of events: I had been offered an interview at a university in South Yorkshire. This was exciting and encouraging; I walked about with a bounce in my step, wrote a beautiful and exciting sample syllabus, read a lot of books, and generally avoided anything to do with my thesis, as one does when one is panicked about one's viva and has been for three years.

Two days before my viva, I took a train down south and spent a night in a very cushy hotel. I barely slept. In the morning, I realised I had forgotten to pack a change of underwear. I made do. My stockings ripped; I made do. I was so grateful for the interview as a chance to ignore the viva that it went remarkably well. In my head, nobody studying English could ever be offered a job before graduation, so I was very pleased with the low-stress opportunity to refine my interview skills (and ignore the looming viva).

I was a little shocked when they offered me the job. I finished my train ride home, kissed my husband, taught an online class, skimmed the conclusion to my thesis, and went to bed.

The viva--the event I'd been dreading for the better part of three years--was fine. (I passed). I spent the weekend looking at syllabi and houses and arranging viewings with a realtor and making a schedule for the fall. We managed to drink our celebratory champagne on Monday, and, a few days later, were in Sheffield looking at houses.

I moved down on the following Monday, finished my thesis corrections, dealt with a large stack of paperwork, and signed my contract the following morning. Life became a whirlwind, but a whirlwind more exciting and wonderful than I ever dared imagine.

September passed in a blur; highlights included getting the keys to our new flat, buying our first British furniture, and visiting Edinburgh at the end of the month for I.'s birthday and to spend some quality time at our church.  Birthday highlights included a trip to the cinema and a hike up Arthur's Seat.

(Edinburgh byway on the walk home after our hike):

We miss Edinburgh abundantly, particularly our church, but Sheffield has its own delights, which, at the moment, include some splendid autumn foliage. Sheffield has more trees for its size than any other city in the United Kingdom, which has made this fall particularly splendid.

Below is a view of the city from one of the main streets between our flat and my new office. Sheffield is a city on six or eight hills (most people round to seven, in Classical homage), one of which you can see in the distance.

It's a short term position, so I'm only here until June, but I am delighted by my new colleagues and my many wonderful students, and we are enjoying this new city quite a bit as well. Hopefully by the end of October I'll manage to be back on track with some sort of schedule, and can update with better and more interesting photos.