No Place Like Home

By the time I finally got the hang of uni, the biggest challenge of all presented itself; my first visit home.

Uni life takes a while to settle into. Shared bathrooms for some and communal kitchen for all. It’s certainly different from my mothers spotless house. The best way to explain living with students is that there is an constant air of confusion. Whose pan is this? Who drank my milk? Why is there a tube of fake blood next to the pasta? But maybe that’s just my flat. My experience might be a bit different because there are 14 of us. 14 people, 2 microwave ovens, 4 rings on the hob and one kettle. It’s been fun.

Visiting home was simultaneously restful and stressful. I was given plenty of food and was in a warm comfy house. I also have a couple of meals to take home, which is a total lifesaver. But I had to update everyone on exactly what I’ve been up to for the last 8 weeks. There is the paragraph you repeat to each family member running through your time at uni. My course is going well and I have been attending all my wonderful lectures. Yes, even the 9ams. I have been feeding myself properly, lots of vegetables, making lots of friends, and I have even done my washing. No, I don’t stay out too late and always get a taxi back. The few details left out are nothing to worry them about. Home visits aren’t for telling your Mum that you haven’t picked up an iron in 8 weeks.

Though, I have to confess that, I cannot keep this up. It is great to see everyone, but now I am behind on my reading and more tired than ever. Even being in my old bedroom feels strange because none of my belongings are there. My bed still looks the same and my stack of magazines remain on the side. But the little things aren’t there. There are no hair-pins on the floor and no mugs litter my desk. That will change over Christmas. My family will get bored of me coming home I’m sure.

Two parents, two sets of grandparents and one twin later, I’m on the train back to Norwich. Until next time.