Home Again.

So, I got my massive suitcase down to the bus-stop, with the help of A, and my cello, and my rucksack, and I wrestled the lot on to the bus, and off again, and I ran for my train, and missed it, and caught the one an hour later, and heaved all my baggage into the vestibule of one corridor, surrounded by young army guys, drinking and swearing and gloating about how well they’d done on this or that exercise, and making me worry they’d spill beer on the cello or something, and then I got off that train, and got all my stuff off, and hung around for a while, and had to go into the very underbelly of that next station because of the complex way they’ve organised their lifts, and then I got myself and my bags onto my second train with seconds to spare, and occupied the corridor for that journey too, which meant I got no knitting done, and then I finally, in dropping the suitcase down onto the platform at home, managed to snap the handle off altogether and then pretty much fell out of the train myself as the sudden drop in weight completely unbalanced me, then I managed to get my suitcase into the car, and the cello, and the rucksack, and then we drove off, and here I am, home. I ate and went back out again and had a lovely evening, and came back, and here I am, and it should either feel more weird or less weird than it does to be back again and I don’t really know which.

I only say this because the weirdness of being home seems to come up in a lot of peoples’ blogs, and I don’t find it that odd – I fit right back into the rhythm of the house and this doesn’t surprise me, but then I am surprised that I am not surprised, so I end up a little bit surprised after all. I know a lot of people on coming home miss their university social life, but really, I don’t – at least not yet – because after a semester of frenetic fighting for attention and love from this group or another – and by and large, getting it – I’m more than ready to retreat for a few days, and just be introspective and introverted.

It has to be said, though, I don’t really feel great, as if my body has been allowed to stop and it’s response to stopping is to deflate. Perhaps this post would have been better off in Cloudlife, but it’s here now. Good night.

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1 Comment

Filed under Happenings, Introspection, Life, Society, University

One response to “Home Again.

  1. “I only say this because the weirdness of being home seems to come up in a lot of peoples’ blogs”

    Heh, I’m currently spending about one night a month in Cardiff (where I go to uni), and I get to go home each weekend. Being home really doesnt seem weird…

    Did a little in the first year tho. Because I was the only one away from home, I came back and there’d always be things like little in-jokes that I’d not understand, or whatever. Both my younger brothers moved out of home last year though, so it felt much less weird.

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