Deep breath.

I…I just…I mean I don’t…but I kind of…the thing is…

ImissuniversityandwanttogobacknowIdon’twanttobehomeanymore.

What? No. No I didn’t say anything, I don’t know what you mean, what, who are you, hello? *look to camera*

Okay, fine. I’ll admit it. I miss Bournemouth and want to go back now, please. I’ve been home for over a month now, and as much as I’m not yet tiring of the, “LOUISE, DINNER’S ON THE TABLE” call, I don’t think I can deal with our horrific internet. Video buffering I can deal with, and adverts on 4OD I can deal with, BUT I CAN’T DEAL WITH BUFFERING ADVERTS ON 4OD FOR MUCH LONGER. 

I think my dad decided that enough was enough when I started voicing the pigeons in the garden today, pecking at the snow so it looked like they were doing drugs. “We’ve hit the big time ‘ere, Keith.” “I’m off my face, Trev”, etc. It was time to leave.

Don’t get me wrong, being home was nice and I needed it. The vegetables, I mean. My stomach ended up having a total flip out at the exotic array of foods it was now dealing with, i.e. not biscuits, and I ended up camping out in the bathroom between Christmas and New Year throwing my organs up with food poisoning. ENJOY YOUR LUNCH, GUYS.

But by the time my friends had all gone back to their universities, I was pining for my pub, beach, and ‘doing student’ our way, and not caring about it. Being home reassured me that I am GOOD HUMAN, I do OKAY LIFE. I just needed reminding of that. Oh god, this has gone soppy and sentimental no no no no *runs*

The first term was always going to be tough, wasn’t it? And it will probably carry on being tough. But what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, said Kelly Clarkson. She did, didn’t she? That was Kelly Clarkson? It was either her or Gandhi. So everything will be fine. Home’s there, life’s here, and it doesn’t matter where friends and family are when things get rubbish because they’ll drop everything and run when they’re needed. Hopefully with some sandwiches. 

Things are about to get serious now anyway with HOUSE VIEWING. Five houses, one choice. WHICH SHOULD WE CHOOSE??? The one which allows us to have a kitten, obviously. It’s all very exciting and grown up. I’m going to write down a list of questions to ask the estate agent…through a sock puppet because let’s not get TOO grown up about these things, shall we…