Dear Diary,
So I’m now five days into University and to say I’m still feeling slightly ‘weird’ is perhaps an understatement. In a brand new town, with brand new friends, a new room, even a new duvet cover, it’s inevitably going to take several weeks at least to settle in but so far I’ve managed to cook for myself without burning anything and even do a bit of washing (however there was a slight mishap with that, more later on).
Saying goodbye and leaving my comfortable bed (and more importantly, my family) back home wasn’t easy. I burst into tears on the morning of leaving after glancing over at my blusher pot, which had the word ’emotional’ sprawled across the top. Then later on, five minutes into our journey, I burst into another set of tears, and then again on the motorway. It didn’t help that Heart Radio was fuelling our emotional turmoil by playing hideously sad songs. Thanks.
By the time we pulled into my new home place, halls of residence, I was all out of tears, which was lucky as I had everything but the kitchen sink to carry up a flight of stairs and into my new bedroom.
So far, my cooking hasn’t been as bad as I thought it might be. I’ve mastered (well, kind of) the stir fry, with pre chopped vegetables, a sauce packet and noodles or rice. I might change things up now and again to avoid turning into a stir fry (introducing skinny pizzas to my diet – or Dime bars) but mostly, it hasn’t been overly awful.
The launderette seems like too much of a trek, and I still am a little on edge about which colours and cottons go together, so in an attempt to be slightly independent, I decided to indulge in a little bit of hand washing. Dissolving a laundry detergent sachet in some hot water in the sink in my bathroom, I rather proudly began washing a few bits and bobs, before rinsing them through, draining them in the shower and hanging them up on a clothes horse. It was only afterwards that I read the box, which stated the sachets were not suitable for hand washing, nor for use with wet hands that I began to panic. I had my hands doused in the laundry detergent soaked water for a good ten minutes. After checking my hands were indeed still attached to my arms (and breathing a sigh of relief), inevitably, I whipped out my phone to see what Google thought of the matter. There was only two things it could be – chemical poisoning or late on-set respiratory distress. Which one did I have?! HELP! After spending several minutes panicking, wondering whether or not I should check myself into hospital, I calmed down and decided that perhaps I might still be okay. Just maybe.
So the last few days has been a mix of emotions really. Moving to Uni is, of course, going to be a strange and maybe exhilarating experience. In fact, it’s easy to forget that you’re going to university to study as the moving away part seems difficult enough. I’ve had a few introductory lectures, which are extremely intimidating at first as you sit in huge great lecture halls with what seems like hundreds of strangers (maybe they won’t be soon) and try and absorb everything going on. Having taken a gap year, I’ve been off the study wagon for what seems like ages now and so I’m hoping I’ll snap back and start scribbling notes and reeling off essays easily. I guess we’ll have to see.
Love Scarlett x
If you have any advice for me about dealing with homesickness, or how you dealt with the first few weeks of uni, please feel free to let me know! I really appreciated everyone’s kind comments in the last Dear Diary and would love any advice you have! Has anyone else had any funny or scary experiences once living away from home?
