And thus begins: The Cambridge Diaries.

“What we call the beginning is often the end

And to make an end is to make a beginning.

The end is where we start from….

…We shall not cease from exploration

And the end of all our exploring

Will be to arrive where we started

And know the place for the first time.”

-T. S. Eliot

Perhaps, I come to the place where I started far more often than I would like to admit. Much like history would not like to admit that there is nothing new under the sun and it is but a pattern of timeless movements. We are finite creatures as frequent as pebbles on a beach. In and out. Refined. Smoothed. Eroded.

Yesterday, we arrived at the start again. There we stood in a yellow wood and this morning we chose the path we would take. Cambridge.

My head is a kaleidoscope of thought but my great grandfather, whom I have never met stands front and centre. His soft smile and gentle eyes easing me into a dream. There is a picture of him in my grandmother’s house. He is sitting on a bail of hay, tying his ice skates. His face is wise, his demeanour pleasant and contended.

I have always felt an unexplained bond with my great Grandfather. Victor. Perhaps it is because when you have never known a person, you can make them to be whatever you need them to be, at the time when you need it. And I need a friend. I need a person to whom I can look up to, aspire to be like, admire. A person, who sees the world the way I see it or at least understands the way I see it. I need a person who values me for every part of me. For my dumbed down intellect, my hidden heart and the timid child within.

I dream about how he would be proud of me, how he would see him in me too.

And while I have done nothing to warrant my voyage to the University of Cambridge, he is proud. He is excited about the experiences I will have, the knowledge I will obtain and the wisdom I will gain.

We dream of walks along the River Cam, picnics in Jesus Green and a year of history and heritage. Cambridge – inspiration to Isaac Newton, Sir Francis Bacon, John Rutter, John Donne, E. M. Forster, A. A. Milne, William Wordsworth among so many others.

Dear Cambridge, what will you have for me? One year. One year to rest. To learn. To grow. To start over, start again, start afresh. To start a new chapter. A culmination of beginnings and ends. One year of less and of more. With time to spend. Time to savour. One year to know intimacy with God in a new way. To learn love. To love. To renew love. Love for God, for my husband, for my children. One year to instill, to impress, to inspire little minds and little hearts.