Hello fellow bloggers and dear readers.
It has been a while again, I know. Being a postgraduate student has me extremely busy. If my time isn’t spend in Uni, it’s at home working on Uni things, or at work earning money so that I can feed myself. It is safe to say my life is all about the eat, sleep, work, repeat at the moment.
Moving on from this, taking a little momentary break of University related things, it’ s dawned on me.
Today is the 16th December.
I have no idea how we’re in December. Christmas is in 9 days and I’ve lost my festive feelings. Some of you, if you are a follower, will remember I was feeling festive back at the start of November – which of course, is not like me.
Hey presto, that vanished almost as soon as it appeared.
Ah. Relief. Back to the scrooge I know and love.
Alas, all of these things aside, on Sunday, I am heading home. Back to my beloved little town. The above image is a picture taken outside of my bedroom window back home, and it is one I absolutely adore.
8am on a spring morning in late January; the sun rising and the sky looking beautiful and the best part? I was waking up in my double bed.
Not this small double bed business! A real, big, double bed spread where I can move around freely, sleep in the middle of the bed and have as many pillows as I damn well please.
Living away from home has made me realise a number of things, but the most important one will always remain: a house isn’t a home without the people who make it that.
In this instance, my current humble abode is shared with my boyfriend Conner. I am still madly in love with him after 5 months of living together, and we haven’t killed each other yet, so fingers crossed this is for the long haul (no doubt on my part, it was the minute we got together, but for the sake of us actually surviving this living together, let’s leave it here.) In January we will be celebrating our four year anniversary, and come September, we will hopefully have moved out of our little flat in Plymouth, and we’ll be moving on up in the world to a smaller, smellier, rut of a flat in London, or something of that effect.
But not to get ahead of ourselves, of course, it will always come back to this. My first, and forever, home back in Gloucestershire, where of course, my dear Mumsey and my beloved little feline fur babies are.
This Sunday, I will be heading back there, and I honestly cannot wait.
I don’t know where this first semester has gone, and it is scary to think I’m a third of the way through my Masters already – eek. Come September next year, I’ll be 24 and I’ll have a MA degree and I’ll hopefully be living and working in or around London. God forbid. That’s too fucking scary to think about right now.
So yeah, home will literally be the escape I need – to re-evaluate my life, contextualise my work load, think about all the things I love and hate about Plymouth, but more importantly, it’ll be time well spent with my Mum and my favourite beings.
It’s strange because although this University semester (and this year if I think about it) has gone incredibly fast, going home has seemed like a long time coming. I think I’m still reeling in these big life changes.
One minute I had just finished my BA degree, handed in my dissertation and had a full time, minimum wage job, and then suddenly the heavens opened and I was thrown into my Masters, I had no job, and had to learn everything from scratch.
Slow down life, please. I need a break.
I need a cat snuggle, and I need a nice long face to face girl chat with my bestest friend in the whole world.
Sunday really can’t come soon enough.
I’m not wishing for Christmas, I’m not wishing for the New Year.
I’m just wishing for Sunday.