Everything you’ll do this summer when you’re home from university

What is summer? Is summer the never ending stickiness of your inner leg that thus forces you to sleep with one leg out of the bed at night? Is it spending all day everyday sat on picnic tables in beer gardens until the wood begins to mould around your arse? Or is it telling yourself that this will be the summer of your life, the summer where you get your shit together, the summer you go travelling and find yourself, the summer to end all summers?

Can you hear it in the distance? Summer, gaining, appearing in the distance on the horizon. If summer had a sound, it would sound like the song 'Good Time' by Owl City and Carly Rae Jepsen. If summer had a look, it would look like the video to 'Good Time' by Owl City and Carly Rae Jepsen.

Summer is the song 'Good Time' by Owl City and Carly Rae Jepsen.

I'll tell you what else summer is – it's merely the time period between university finishing and starting again, and in that time period you will have no idea who you are.

And that leads us into our first point:

You'll begin to question who you are

Picture it – you're at home, you're thinking about what you should have for tea. You've eaten penne with pesto every. single. night. for the last six months, it's pointless even wondering what you're going to have for tea – you're having penne and fucking pesto.

But wait, it's Sunday, what's that smell? You go downstairs, your Mum is cooking a roast. The culture of penne and pesto is so deep rooted in your subconscious you forgot there is more to life that pasta shapes. You realise you won't have to eat penne and pesto for nearly three months, but who are you if not someone who eats penne and pesto every night?

So you go to visit your Grandparents. You're not wearing your blue high-waisted Topshop jeans you used to wear pre-uni, no, you're wearing wavey garms, because that's who you are now. Your Grandma has never seen you like this, you begin to wonder if you're still the same person that left with a car boot full of Wilkos' kitchen utensils. Who are you? You're a student now, the limbo between childhood and adulthood.

You'll miss the freedom of university

With summer comes the strange change in reality – no longer are you the independent adult you were at university, no, you're back home and you're living with your parents again.

Gone is the coming home at 4am and, in an inadvisable move, trying to cook yourself pasta (penne and pesto), which requires heat, which you should be nowhere near when coming home at four in the morning; in is coming home at exactly 11:30pm because that's what time all the goddamn pubs shut in your goddamn hometown where nothing happens. Do you know why nothing happens in your goddamn hometown? Because everywhere shuts at 11:30pm.

Now try telling your housemates they should visit you in Surrey. Go on, I dare you.

You will try and get a head start on uni work

You will not get a head start on uni work.

You'll rewatch Friends on Netflix

"Oh, just a few episodes won't hurt", you think to yourself. Next thing you know you're two seasons deep and all your mates are in the park having a barbecue without you.

You'll ask for your old job back so you can 'get out of your overdraft'

Hubris is a strange thing. You were so full of it, so full of pride that you were off to uni, that you were getting out of your provincial life and heading to the big city, you never thought that one day you might have to return, tail between your legs, and ask for your old, pre-uni job back.

You need that job so you can save up some money and 'get out of my overdraft'. Good luck, you're never getting out of your overdraft.

You'll post an extortionate amount of photos of your pets on social media

Normally you'd post boomerangs of you and a mate, or you'd Snapchat the ceiling of a club, or a video in the back of a taxi when the driver takes a sharp turn and your mate, well, your mate just goes flying to the floor doesn't she.

But now you're home and that world doesn't exist anymore – it's 24/7 videos of your dog ignoring you, all. fucking. summer.

The people you used to go to school with who didn't go to uni will constantly bring up your debt and you will resent them for it

You're in your local pub, you've only got until 11:30pm before you have to go home so you'd better make this evening count. But then you bump into the lads, the lads in their crisp, white, muscle fit shirts, they all look exactly the same.

You follow them all on Twitter and all they ever tweet about is how much they won't be listening to the new Arctic Monkeys album and the Championship team they support. They start telling you about their jobs which all have job titles you've never heard of, they're making a packet you know, you shouldn't have bothered going to uni, you're wasting your money – they make £19,000 a year, you make penne and pesto every night for your tea. They still live with their parents, you live with some guy called Gareth who keeps his bike in the hallway and is a 'DJ' because he bought some decks and plays house parties. Are you the one in the wrong? Are we the baddies?