Home Time

As you might have noticed I've finally found some time to catch up with my blog. Any of you who are aware that I study in England and live in Northern Ireland could easily attribute this to me being home for the Christmas holidays - and you're not wrong.

Various patronising adults who seems not to realise my age now have gazed at me sadly, preaching that the first time you come home for the holidays is the hardest, blah blah. As much as I'd love to prove them wrong by saying I am ecstatic to be home, I must admit that in many ways I fear they may be right. However I still express a slightly arrogant doubt that being chucked out of independent land back to parents 24 hour surveillance land will ever be particularly easy.

Perks of being home are quite materialistic - free washing machine, and woman to do the washing, posh food that isn't Asda Smartprice, posh food cooked and served, someone to hoover my room and generally clean up after me. These perks come at a high cost. I am expected to occasionally do the above tasks myself, and in payment for all of the above (and the finanacial support of the folks throughout university), I am expected to be at their every call, and my social life must be restricted, lest they feel I am enjoying myself too much. My friends are also vetted, and regular quizes on precisely what I do when I'm not under their watchful eye are a daily occurance.

What then does Straight Talker miss about England? I'm quite sure it's not the workload, the early morning lectures on a monday or the 5.30pm lectures on a Friday. It's quite obviously the social elements - new friends from different places, bar crawls with no parent standing with the breathaliser and demanding to know exactly why I am wobbling in at 4am. I miss my flat mates, my girlfriend, heading out with the LGBTA without having to lie about where I'm going. Playing football without my mother standing on the sidelines frowning.

What do I miss? Indepenence.