How on earth is it March? Quite apart from the untowardly festive weather (my brain keeps singing Christmas songs and I have so much rage), what happened to February? Last I recall, I was complaining that January was dragging on and on, and suddenly February came and went before I had time to blink!
I have been in full-on Feeling Sorry For Myself mode this week. I’ve been properly ill for the first time in I can’t remember how long (I definitely blame the general mass of disease that is a university city, thanks Durham) to the extent that I took two days off work and just lay on the sofa being pitiful and watching Netflix (I’ve starting watching Suits, and yes, it is 80% because I want to see what Meghan Markle was like as an actress). Duvet and PJ days sound great until you’re too ill to enjoy them, so I’ve been really tragically bemoaning that situation for a few days.
This whole week’s been a bit of a write-off in terms of stellar employee behaviour, to be honest. I only managed two and a half days in the office – the aforementioned two days off for illness have been supplemented today by the fact that I bailed on the office at 2pm to make sure that I’d be able to drive home safely in the snow. It’s not super snowy down here (it is the South, after all) but the roads are still pretty dodgy in some places, and I’m definitely glad that I left work when I did, even though I do feel very guilty about abandoning them all. They live within walking distance, it’s fine…
The week has not been all bad, however. I had a Skype call with three of my old uni housemates last night, and it was glorious. It cheered me up so much that I almost forgot how rubbish the week had been, even though nothing of great consequence was talked about. It’s just so nice to see everyone’s (blurry, terrible-internet-connection-pixelated, often frozen) faces and hear their news.
I’m quite often slightly stunned at how big an impact the small things can have. Every time I walk past the Cafe Nero in Godalming I get a warm fuzzy feeling (gross, sentimental, ew, I know) because of that barista who gave me extra hot chocolate when I was having The Worst Day. When I went up to Durham last weekend, my friend came and picked me up from the station in his car to save me what would have been a fairly easy 15-minute walk, and thinking about that still makes me smile. Living in rural Sussex with my parents can be isolating, but it’s tempered by evenings spent chatting about absolute nonsense with friends – producing such gems as the title of this post (all credit to Flo Sharp).
Going back up to Durham was an odd experience for me this time. When I went last November, it didn’t feel like I’d been gone for very long, but somehow these few months from then to now have stretched out and my degree feels like another lifetime. The friends I was staying with joked about how weird it is that I’m already paying into a pension, and they’re right, it is a bit. It’s not weird when I’m at home, or at work, or seeing other friends who also have graduated and found jobs, but it’s weird when I’m back in my uni city, in a student house, with a group of people who are still preoccupied with summative essays and dissertations.
I don’t mean to sound like I’m belittling summatives or student life. I’m not. It’s hard. My dissertation remains the most stressful thing I’ve ever faced. But it’s just so bizarre to me how detached from that I already feel. My current weekend to-do list consists of an 8am doctor’s appointment and subsequent blood test (thanks Accutane, I do so love monthly blood tests), a car service and sorting out my car insurance payment, and clearing out my room. Such a wild and spirited youth I am. I like to say that I don’t consider myself a proper adult, but in many ways, I am, and that’s quite a scary thought. I loved going back up to Duz to see people and support the Cheer Squad (we were wonderfully obnoxious supporters. I got on a train with blue stripes still painted on my face and got some very strange looks) but it did highlight how much growing up I’ve done in the past seven months. It’s weird, I’m not sure if I like it. I suppose I’ll just have to cling on even more determinedly to my childish side!
Until next time, K.