Oh kitchen of dreams, I miss you!
I have been Nottingham-bound for the last few days. It was lovely, simply lovely. I miss the city, my friends, the places i knew and loved. Plus I miss what the city represented. Independence. I truly feel like a failure because I'm living with my parents at the age of 27. I love them dearly, I really do. They have been incredibly supportive during this period of upset and upheaval in my life. They let me live rent free (which I feel eternally guilty about) and my Dad often slips me the odd ten pound note, accompanied by the muttered "Don't tell your mother". But I miss so much being able to get home from work, get into my pyjamas (without being judged by mother) and make entirely inappropriate evening meals (jam sandwiches i miss thee). I am too too old to be living here. I lived away for years and the transition back has not been an easy one, due in part I think to the fact I was 18 when I left for Nottingham. I think maybe they still see me as that 18 year old. Whereas I'm now 27.
I start my new job a week on Monday. I intend to pay off my mammoth overdraft, make some inroads into my credit card debts and then, fingers crossed, try and get a place of my own. This time next year I hope to be in a very different situation. I cannot be 28 and still living here. Does not compute.
100% Ikea
