I'm aching a little after having won the sabre section of the Hull University Fencing Championship (my thanks to Tim, who did me a favour by knocking Ollie out before the final), so this is possibly going to be a touch incoherent.
Anyway, I've been thinking about endings. They never seem to be quite as fixed or neat in life as you'd think they should be. Take my fencing season, for example. First, there's the last league match, then our run in the cup goes on a while longer, then there's this internal championship, then there's some friendly game against a local club on Thursday, as a sort of farewell match... things drift on without the sort of clear stopping point that as a writer you know should be just after the climactic events. Maybe that's the thing with real life; it doesn't follow the plot. It's almost the same thing with my PhD at the moment. I feel I'm near the end, but I'm not exactly certain how near, since it's a case of when I can get the quality up to the required standard, and that is something judged to a great extent by other people. I'm hoping for an end relatively soon, simply because I don't feel I can justify any more time on the thing, but it drags on.
It might, in fact, be better to say that in terms of plotting it, life doesn't do endings so much as a series of "and then..." moments. Since my chances of ever going into research are essentially destroyed, I've still got to work out what my next "and then..." is.