I don’t have the heart to tell mum I prefer Brighton to my hometown

Moving away from home to go to university is always an exciting prospect, whether you love your hometown or not. Going somewhere completely new where you aren’t sick to death of the weekly club night you and your mates go to and don’t have some sort of history with every Tom, Dick and Harry is enough to justify leaving home. Especially if you end up at your dream university in your desired town/city.

Try and beat a summers day like this

Obviously, most mums are pretty gutted about their baby leaving the nest and starting a life somewhere else where it’s much harder for them to lurk your every move. Getting to come in at 5am without your mum popping her head round your door far too early nosily asking “So, what did you get up to last night?” is pretty sweet. You tell her you’ll be back ‘soon’ the minute you leave, and in first term you usually are, repeating the same reassuring words every time you see the sadness in her eyes when you leave.

I used to hate my hometown, but not long after I left I realised why all my friends who had been in the same situation a year before began to love it. After all, the grass is always greener on the other side. You start to become nostalgic and protective over your hometown, saying that you love it every time it’s mentioned or you head back for the weekend.

However, soon enough this wears off and after your fifth trip home you’re back to where you started. Going back home was a novelty at first, but now you remember why you wanted to leave in the first place. The place you chose to go to university is much better. Brighton has so much to offer, not much else compares to the nightlife here and, being Brighton, there’s a lot here you won’t find in many other cities or towns.

Even when there’s nothing to do, there always is, going to the beach for example: we don’t need money or to travel for hours on end, just good company and a bit of sun. You start to finally get more comfortable at uni, taking responsibility for more things is shit, but at the same time liberating and you like boasting to your mates when they come to visit as if you’ve know the place your whole life. Going back home just begins to feel like you’re back to your days of secondary school or something. Getting to live with who you want and where you want isn’t half bad.

dressing up like animals is acceptable in Brighton

Trips home get less frequent and you’re hoping this will ease your mum into accepting that’s not really where you want to be. Yes I love going back to my bed and having someone cook for me, but more than four days back and I want to throw a tantrum and threaten to run away (which doesn’t really work anymore, but you get me). For now I’ll just have to stick with dropping the hints and slowly making less trips home. I guess if she doesn’t realise soon enough, I’ll have to drunkenly slur it to her after graduation celebrations. Soz mum.