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This post is going to get me into a LOT of trouble.

Jumper: Zara, Jeans: Topshop, Shoes: Vagabond, Bag, Oasis (old, similar styles here & here)

For almost five months, I have being living back at home with my family after being away for three years. When I was at University, I returned home a few times a term – mostly when I grew tired of eating stir fry for dinner and when the sight of my piled high washing basket overwhelmed me. During the holidays my family would call me the latch-key-kid. While they got up and went to work, I would be asleep. When they came home for dinner, I would have just changed out of my pyjamas and be heading out the door.

And so this routine would continue.

These days – you know since being a working girl and all that – we are all in sync. This means that I am no longer considered the family “stop out.” I am no longer (unfairly) blamed for the house being messy. I am no longer obliged to ferry my brothers from the station after their ‘very tiring’ days at work and finally, I am no longer the only culprit when the fridge is left empty.

That said, there are many things about living at home that makes me miss my University days. Like making a dash to Tesco pre Made In Chelsea for Ben & Jerry’s and 3 for £1 packets of sweets for the house to enjoy. I miss waking up to daily texts from one of my housemates asking ‘day plan?’ followed by ‘what time shall we lunch’ followed by ‘forget that, when is breakfast?” It used to get to 9pm on a Thursday and an innocent Disney movie evening would escalate into searching for six student night tickets, ransacking each other’s wardrobes and by 1030pm we would be dressed up and heading out the door. Come 11am the following morning, we would all pile into my bed and amidst the sounds of hungover mumbles that promised never to drink Jägerbombs again, we would discuss the happenings of the night before.

And so this routine would continue.

At home nobody shares my guilty pleasure of Made In Chelsea on a Monday night and pigging out on sugar-loaded goodies does not feel so fabulously guiltless when you’re not bonding over what ridiculous thing Spencer is going to do next. The only spontaneous decision I ever make on a Thursday night involves whether I should go to the gym the following morning – hugely exciting stuff.

So, the nostalgia has hit and I am ready to rewind three years and start the crazy adventure that is University all over again. Who is with me?

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