Home is not where the heart is: it’s in Liverpool
Home, I love you but you’re getting me down
So you’ve been home now for nearly three weeks, you’ve stocked up on your mum’s Sunday roasts, caught up with your old mates from school, eaten all your Easter eggs and now you realise you just can’t wait to go back to uni.
Sure, the build up to Easter is great: you start thinking about all the chocolate you’re going to eat, all the family and friends waiting for you and that nice warm house with it’s very full fridge. But then you realise, you’re thinking through rose-tinted glasses.
Yes, there are home comforts that are always nice to come back too. A sofa that you don’t have to share with 5 other people, a clean bath that you’re confident no one pissed in during a house party and of course, your own bed.
And then there’s your family and friends: after not seeing them since Christmas it is obvious you’re going to miss them. Not forgetting your beloved pets – the ultimate reason to come home. Honestly, who doesn’t miss their dog more than their parents? (Sorry Mum).
But then the novelty starts to wear off and everything you were looking forward to becomes a nightmare. You miss being able to cook whatever you fancy for dinner when your mum starts making you meals she should know you won’t eat. Seriously, who even likes liver and onions?
And let’s be honest whilst you’re sitting watching Eastenders with your parents, you’d rather be pre-drinking for a spontaneous night out in LEVEL.
You also realise, you don’t quite have the same freedom you do whilst you’re at university. Suddenly you’re being watched like a hawk and being told to ‘text when you’re home’. Sorry Mum, but you never cared if I survived a night out in Liverpool, so what’s the problem now? “What do you want for dinner?” You will never make plain pasta, butter and cheese the way I do mum, so I want nothing.
Even all the stuff you shouldn’t miss at uni becomes a fond memory: the Big Issue lady outside Liverpool Central, being woken up in the middle of the night by your housemates because they forgot their keys, even the lack of loo roll in every toilet cubicle on a Thursday night in Juicy.
You become utterly confused when you go to the loo without your best gals breathing on you (not to mention the confusion of a late-night loo stop with a toilet that actually has a seat), and lie awake at night because can’t sleep without the subtle sounds of your housemates’ Netflix binge (or worse) lulling you into a slumber.
Even worse? You lose the freedom to online shop your loan away in peace – suddenly a parent is exclaiming “Another package?!” and tutting disapprovingly when the forth pair of thigh-high boots you’re never going to wear but “they’re beautiful” turns up with the postman.
Your days become meaningless and unscheduled when you don’t have the ‘I-haven’t-been-to-a-lecture-in-three-weeks” guilt that drives you onto campus and into tutorials. You even miss the daily social activity of the Arriva bus journey, because driving to see your mates at home so much more more effort than just bumping into them (If you can remember how to use a car).
But the main reason you miss Liverpool whilst being at home is because there is nothing to do at home. You find yourself twiddling your thumbs and wracking your brain for ideas of what to do with yourself. Country walk? Go for a jog? Write that essay? Pet the dog for a seventh hour that day? All shite options compared to going the gin bar or for a round of crazy golf in L1.
Liverpool is a city that never sleeps. There’s always something to do whether it be a spontaneous night out, a late night trip to ASDA or even just chilling with your flatmates ’till 3am.
Get me back to Liv!