There are two different types of people at Uni, the home bird who goes home every 2-3 weeks and the one that's flown the nest, who turns up at their parents house at Christmas just to let them know they are alive ... I was the home bird. I would have gone insane if I had to go home every weekend, every two weeks meh, by the third week I was ready to go home, see my dog, argue with my sister, listen to my dad rant about dishwasher karma, eat my mums roast and have a proper catch up with my friends. This is my main fear of going away, which didn't really hit me till the other night, where like any normal 25 year old woman, burst into hysterical tears at my younger sister, who thought someone had died or I was hurt, something serious, not that I was being a baby and waah'ing about missing my maaammy. Don't get me wrong, I am so excited about going away especially now that I am talking to a couple people who are going to be out there the same time, but if I listen to ...
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