Tomorrow will be my last day of teaching at Plymouth University.
I've been associate lecturer on the illustration BA for a few years now, and I am wrapping the gig up with three days of solid assessment. My hair is all at random angles, and I'm in bed at half past six. It's tiring, looking at other people's work all day. Some of it is brilliant, as always.
I will miss seeing the brilliant work, and I will miss seeing the less than brilliant work improve week by week. There have been many moments of joy, seeing a student work something out, or nerding out about inking, Star Wars or the shape of a kangaroo's nose.
What I won't be missing is the commute, regularly getting stuck on trains for hours, travelling through floods, on rail replacement coaches, once in the luggage rack. I won't miss catching all the colds on the way.
I've got a lot of work to do now, many books I want to make, and I need to be at home, in London, to make them. I'm quite sorry - this was a wonderful job. I've made good friends, and learned a lot. I think it's a good time to leave.
I'm a bit sad that I won't see the second years turn into third years now. That's always exciting, the point when they work out what they are actually doing. But that's ok.
I would like to apologise to anyone I freaked out by eating whole sugar packs from the tea kitchen when I missed my lunch break. Sorry.
It's been good.