... for four months next spring, at least. And in (academic) style: we have, with the help of competent administrators and simple good luck, found a devastatingly pleasant sabbatical sublet up in the hills. The rent will eat my entire stipend, I'll have to take a bus to work and eat homemade lentil soup for lunch... but oh, the view.
I've just reread Changing Places (it seemed like it was time). Let me quote David Lodge (or, more precisely, one of his bitterer characters) on the view:
You've got to have a view if you live in Plotinus. That's the first thing people ask when you buy a house. Has it got a view? The same view, of course. There's only one view. Every time you go out to dinner or to a party, it's a different house, different drapes on the windows, but the same fucking view. I could scream sometimes.
But, for four months, to be followed by six years back in the flatlands? I'll take the view.