So, it’s all over. No more exams, no more college. Ever again. It’s a strange thought. A very strange thought. For the last couple of years, college has been my life and suddenly- it’s over. After my last exam on Thursday I went out with a few of my classmates; we pulled four tables together in the pub nearest the college and spent three good hours talking and eating and talking and drinking and talking and laughing. We did a lot of talking. Many of these people I will never see again. Everyone’s going their separate ways now. Some are staying around to continue their education, some have jobs lined up to start, some are going travelling. Although some of us made promises to keep in touch, that dinner was mainly a goodbye for most of us. I’m going to miss them. It really is a strange thought.
I’ve just realized how down-in-the-mouth I sound about that. Well, yes, but at the same time: No more exams! Haha! I’ve been dancing on tables, in a purely figurative way, and dancing in the streets in a very literal way.
So the summer has come. And here I am, sitting on my bed at 6 30am, with the sun streaming through the windows, gazing around my room at the cardboard boxes, books, videos, clothes and general mess. I must hasten to tell you - it is not just my room that looks like this. I think that so far half the rooms in the house (bathrooms excluded) have had this same treatment. There are two reasons for this:
A) Dad's moving his office into the house
B) We have to have moved out of this house by the end of January (although we‘re hoping before Christmas). Our landlady wants to renovate.
Fifteen years of accumulated stuffs is finding itself rearranged and stacked and packaged. The loft is slowly, very slowly, being sorted through, one box at a time. So far fifteen bags of this-that-and-the-other have gone to charity shops, along with a chest of drawers, a bedside table and a cot, and the house feels even more full than ever. The fact that we will probably still be here in four months time appears to have escaped everyone’s notice. Then again, fifteen years of belongings is a lot of stuff. A lot of stuff.