Cape Cod north shore

I love it here, Cape Cod. The sea is so deep blue set against the pale blue sky. There is a cool north wind to balance the sun’s fierce rays. And, after an all-day 12 mile walk along the north shore, I can report that there is no-one here. I am alone with only the right whales spouting, breaching and tail flipping to offer company. It is such a privileged sight.

I’m told that life after teaching is usually consumed by working on “the book”. With much time to reflect on what to do next, I find I have little enthusiasm for the task. Is there life and identity after work? Cape Cod is an inspiring place, and therapeutic for us searching souls. The owner of the Inn that is home in “P” (Province) town for a few days used to be “big” in industry and, on retirement, his lovely Inn has become his retirement project. Local retired guys take it in turn as volunteers to look after the lighthouse – it is their passion which is infectious.

So, should I sit at my desk, or in a library, looking-up countless references and preparing endless footnotes for a tome that no-one will read? Maybe not.

The head of research at my college, trying to be helpful and realistic, once told me, and others, that getting anything published is near impossible – why, he asked would anyone want to read your work? I’ve no idea I thought. So dispiriting. Well, it does not matter now.

Birds on the Beach

Cape Cod is the place for lobster and chowder, and a generous supper awaits at the Lobster Pot. Even though it is pre-season here, the place is heaving with diners but I’m sure they can squeeze an old lady in somewhere, perhaps even by the window overlooking the bay.

If only they (my students) could see me now – gone are the formal scholarly black clothes and sensible shoes; for me, it’s shorts, sandals and a t-shirt.

And, for now, in the soft evening light at the Inn, a blank page.