After an indifferent summer, autumn is proving to be a beautiful season of rich colour and gentle weather. Or perhaps it just looks better because I had a week away from work, my first full week's holiday since spring.The beginning of term brought the usual mix of relief that the hectic preparations were completed in time, terror at the prospect of delivering a heavy MA course on Religion and Ethics to new students, and enjoyment as the influx of new and old students reawakened the pleasure of teaching after a summer of paperwork and administration. But it also renewed the exhaustion that had been barely kept at bay over the late summer, so between lectures and tutorials I spent the week before half-term clearing my desk and warning students and colleagues that I would be unavailable.
Given that I'm usually off over the weekend, my holiday started at 9am on the Monday morning of half term. At 9.30, the phone rang. It was a colleague from the office requiring computer support. I don't suppose people mean to spoil things... Once that was dealt with, I was free to take off for a few days with my lover - good food, lots of wine, and gentle and loving companionship, without my work or domestic drudgery to spoil the joy.
My final treat to myself was a day's walking in the Peak District. I'd originally planned a couple of nights B&B in the Lake District, but even late into autumn, last minute vacancies are hard to find. So I packed up a flask of home-made soup and a hunk of freshly-baked bread and took off moderately early with a book in my pocket to my favourite spot. The walk was undemanding, but energetic enough to feel refreshing. A steady, but not stiff, breeze, dappled sunshine between scuttling clouds, and enough warmth to shed my jumper as soon as I was moving made it a perfect day to blow away cobwebs. There were few walkers, and those there were passed with a brief "G'morning" as they strode purposefully past, leaving me peace to collect my thoughts and savour the pleasure of the previous few days.The soup was still blistering hot and the bread cosily warm when I climbed off the path and down to the brook's edge for lunch, sitting in full sun hidden from the path, and reading George Elliot's Scenes from Clerical Life as the water gurgled over the rocks at my feet. After an hour or so, I decided that a good lunch deserved a good pint to follow, so I took a detour from the walk towards an indifferent but conveniently situated pub. Most of their clientele at this time of year are parvenu foodies from South Sheffield drinking pinot grigio spritzers with their pan-fried venison, so I took my pint outside and enjoyed the twittering of birds in preference to the twittering inside the bar.
One of the pleasures of autumn
walking is that the length of the day determines the length of the walk. The sinking sun coincided nicely with that achy tiredness in the legs that signals time to head back home. Oh, for more weeks thus occupied...But returning to work has its pleasures too. Students take wing with their assignment plans and astonish me with their insight and creativity. An old friend visits to teach a session and stays over, giving us each the chance to unburden our cares and joys in the company of someone who understands. The tentative relationships formed with new students become warm and productive friendships as we work together. A rare opportunity to engage with post-16 education adds a new dimension to the work. I remember that I really like my job.
And so the cycle of the year goes on. All Saints, Remembrance and then before we know it, Advent, the start of a new church year: the fast before the feast to come. I love autumn.
