A Musing (not amusing)

I always feel an odd sadness when I realize my inevitable departure to university is approaching again; the kind of sadness that, when you let it rise up in you, just leaves you to sigh.
It isn't so much that I don't want to go back. I absolutely love the course and my independent lifestyle up there. It's just I feel sad to be leaving people behind, saying goodbye to friends and family and not knowing when I'm going to see them again. I am yet to feel the kind of closeness, attachment and affection to anywhere or anyone in Cardiff as I feel for my house and my family; the kind of affection that makes you feel at home.

However, coming back to Plymouth recently I have found nostalgia to be waiting round every corner as I walk old shortcuts a younger me had discovered in his scruffy school uniform, scuffed shoes and ripped trousers. Again I sigh as I think back to these memories, monochrome mementos to a world that can't exist for me any more. I am older now. With every year comes more responsibility. I now understood why my parents always said I would miss my childhood once it was gone.

Once I am up in Cardiff again with my friends, this feeling tends to go away. It's just the leaving that's the hard part, thinking of all that's behind me.

I need to look forward instead, where Italy awaits me in a mere four weeks. Venice, Rome, Florence and the rolling hills of Tuscany lie waiting to be explored by this young intrepid traveller struggling with his rudimentary grasp on the Italian language. I'll blog it.

A Sunday Smile

There's nothing like a decent cup of tea. Heralded mascot of Britain, the humble cup of tea never fails to boost morale during these cold winter months. Its fellow cupboard-dwelling cousin, coffee, looks on jealously every time I reach for the tea bags, wishing it was in America where it would truly be appreciated.

I retract my statement from my previous post about the snow being shit down here. It was a classic case of saying something too soon, as over the last few days Britain has been blanketed in beautiful white powdery layers of snow. A few days ago, I woke up and looked outside my bedroom window to behold the results of a night where mother nature had been working hard painting me a beautiful picture.

The novelty soon wore off.
Snow seems to make Britain come to a stand still. Transport became erratic with delays and cancellations everywhere. And what better than to have this than at a time where I need to be travelling up to Cardiff in a couple of days for exams?

But the cup of tea tells me in its warm reassuring voice, "Relax, it'll all be fine." And I believe it.

I got a haircut yesterday and it no longer resembles a bush. On the way down from the salon, I stopped off at University Bookshop, a small and cosy little book store where as many books as possible have been crammed in. It's like an Alladin's cave of literature and knowledge.

Naturally, I headed straight for the foreign language section. On perusing the dusty little wooden shelves, I selected my first victim, Crónica de una muerte anunciada. Another piece of glorious Spanish fiction for my linguistic quest for self-improvement. I also purchased a copy of Marcovaldo, an Italian fiction book which looks to be at my level of reading. I will tackle it in the summer when I have more time on my hands.

I then went to Drake Circus in Waterstones. I still am yet to finish La Sombra del Viento however I am almost half way through and have fallen in love with it so much that I chose to buy the English version, The Shadow of the Wind, which will serve two functions. Firstly, rather than having a dictionary by my side as I read the Spanish version, I will merely cement my understanding of the Spanish version by taking a glance at difficult passages in the English version. Secondly, I plan on one day reading the English version all the way through because it is such a wonderful book.

This blog came in a moment of procrastination from my Italian history revision. I better get back to it.

That's all folks.

The Homeward Stretch

I worked my last day at Maplin's City Road branch yesterday and now, with the job behind me, I have just turned the last corner and am on the finishing straight of this semester. One remaining piece of assessed work due in this Thursday acts as my final hurdle before the glorious finish line where my friends and family at home await me with open arms.

My impending return home got me feeling all nostalgic and I found myself thinking about all the things I miss about home which I cannot wait to do again. It's surprising how many simple little things you miss when away from home. For me, these include having a back garden to look out onto in a quiet leafy suburb rather than feeling like some kind of worker bee, living in a tiny pod in a giant complex comprised of hundreds of other identical pods, uniform and square, in rows. I miss buildings with personality; something I haven't experienced in this bland empty shell. I miss the relationship you can have with these kinds of buildings, ripened by years of shared experiences, good and bad, with family and friends; where a house becomes a home. And besides, what better time to return home than Christmas when social and family gatherings are in abundance?

Here's a relevant song:



In other news, I'm supposed to be looking at houses this week to decide where I'm living next year and who I'll be living with. These are exciting times my friends.