This time last year, I was sitting here watching my children go off to college and school, one of my daughters was hunting for a university place to apply for… a kind of getting ready for the future. Another was contemplating whether to continue on with her courses and get the final qualification. Everyone was engaged, doing things… while I was just the mother.

I’d raised them, sacrificed my time, my energy, my love and more than that, my freedom. I did it because I have an obligation to them. An obligation that means I can’t allow them to fend for themselves. I’m supposed to fight for them, make sure they get the best of everything… that they push themselves as far as they can go, and that they turn out to be decent human beings who consider their actions before they make them. I hope I succeeded, but I’d be biased if I said they’re all great.

Anyway, I was left with nothing, and no one to nurture. I think as a mother, that realisation can come as a bit of a shock. One day you’re elbows deep in dirty diapers, and then next you’re watching them rush through the door with a goodbye thrown over their shoulders as though you’re the last thought on their mind. It’s disturbing.

What was I going to do with those long days, where I didn’t have to run around and grab infants from school or nursery… even my grandson has grown enough that he’s starting full time school! He doesn’t need me either!

Armed with all this freedom, I decided to go back to university. (Oh the horror!) What was I going to do with the opportunity of going back into learning. I’m a fifty-five year old woman, cranky as hell, had enough time to grow an opinionated mindset, and a mouth that isn’t afraid of telling people exactly what I think of them. What will I do when faced with a bunch of snotty young adults still flexing their ‘ormonal mussels? (typo intentional)

I completed my degree in 1999… exactly twenty years ago. I was awarded a BA (Hons.) in Art and Archaeology. My focus was on the Middle East and Islamic art and literature. The archaeology of Muslim Spain intrigued me so much that it has stayed with me even now. One of my books came about as a small archaeological insight from this time. But, I didn’t want to go into this field, or museum management either, which is one of the pathways open, and despite loving the museum and gallery environment, there’s not a chance in hell that I’d go into that.

So what were my options?

After four years writing, authoring, releasing books and growing in confidence, I wondered if it would be possible for me to continue my studies in this field. I wasn’t a graduate of english, creative writing or even literature, all I knew how to do was weave a story. I wondered if a University would accept me onto the program when I felt I would be so far behind other recent graduates who would be better suited to the same course. And further, what avenue of study would help me most, because… come on, what’s the point of doing it if there was no end goal, right?

I kept seeing adverts for an MA program in Creative Writing and Publishing at Lincoln University, but they were for distance learning, and I did not want to study alone. (yeah yeah, I know you’re not alone, alone…) But I wanted to go into a classroom, get out of the house that I was no longer tied to, and meet real people. So, I looked in London for the same course, and found it offered at two… yes TWO, universities. I’m talking about this particular course, because there are many more that offer creative writing with a mix, available in London.

I met the criteria, I had the determination, and I was just crazy enough to give it a try.

I wrote my statement, picked three or four pieces of unedited, unfinished work across genres from my half finished works in progress, and I crossed my fingers and pressed send.

A tip for anyone who may also do this. Check the files that you send actually open. Mine did not. Being a ninny, I was using Pages and not Word, and instead of exporting the documents in word format, I just changed the tag… (do not ever do this) and sent them. I applied to City University in London, and Kingston.

City university got back to me within a week and told me that the course was full, and hoped I had luck finding a place. Kingston got back to me and requested I re-upload my application because they weren’t able to read the files. Something fishy you may ask… yeah… I did too. I re-did the documents, exported them properly, and resent them.

Because of the rejection from City, I began looking elsewhere, and at other programs. I applied to Goldsmiths, and knowing how hard it is to get into, I poured my heart into my personal statement. The program was different, therefore, the statement and the samples of work also needed to be different. I looked at other Universities, but I wasn’t impressed. When you have your mind set on a course of action, everything else just pales in comparison. Even though I was intrigued by the program at Goldsmiths, it wasn’t my first choice.

Three weeks, (I think it was two) later, I got an unconditional offer from Kingston on the program of my choice. I must be dreaming, right? I had to be dreaming! They accepted me and I was over the moon with joy! Then a week later, after I’d accepted the place, I was asked to come into Goldsmiths for an interview and to meet the course director! (screams) What do I do? I’d already accepted the place I wanted.. hadn’t I? But the thought of studying at Goldsmiths was such a rush, so overwhelming, that I was on the fence for a while.

I start my MA program later this month. I’m a life-long learner, a serial learner. I enjoy the process of learning something new, of gaining new insights and pushing myself. I’m an adult learner, returning to study after so many years. I have many worries about whether I’ll be able to keep up, whether my views and opinions will be too much, as well as whether I won’t want to change my mind after fifteen minutes and realise what a huge mistake I’ve made!

I want to journal my experiences during this time. Not only because of the program and the prospects this offers me, but also because my circumstances are so different from when I studied for my undergraduate program. I know I’m going to be a changed person at the end of this, and I feel this need to keep track of where my mind was when I began, so I know who I was, and what I’ve become. I hope you’ll follow along on my monthly out-pouring’s, as I talk about first days, financing an MA program and the work, experiences and people I’ll meet.

Adieu… for now!!!