I have spent a lot of time recently contemplating doing a PhD. Today I had a couple of meetings which brought me closer than ever to deciding. I wrote lots of notes about what I would have to do before I even wrote the proposal, let alone the amount of work I would have to do after. The project I had in my head was the Bulgarian idea… of which more later probably. I could do it. But afterwards, sat in Starbucks with a cup of chai because they’d run out of Earl Grey, I looked at these notes and a little light bulb came on. I’m too old for this. Well no, I’m not too old, but I don’t want to spend my time doing research, reading, filling in forms and talking arty bollocks. I want to spend my time sewing, drawing, making things, looking, listening, thinking, talking to people, collaborating, making music, listening to stories. I want to make connections of my own, go off on ridiculous tangents and come back again. I want to have shows, with friends, on my own. I want to load my shed into the back of a van. I want to stitch till my hands ache and laugh till my cheeks hurt. Bollocks to the bollocks, I’m going to stitch buttons to a sock, and put it in the post.
