The day I left home
I finished my A level exams in June (I think) of 1992. I can't remember actually sitting them, but I can remember that I woke up on the morning of my last exam (Sociology) with a cold sore, which I put down to the stress of studying, but it could have been something to do with the excitement of the coming changes too.
|Me, in Yorkshire, c1992. |
Thanks to my brother for the pic.
You see, when I came back home (smoking on the train, no doubt), I didn't just get ready to go to the pub with my friends. I also packed up all of my stuff. I wasn't going on holiday. I was moving out. I had a backpack, a suitcase, my trusty hippy shoulder bag, and one of those massive red white and blue things you used to carry laundry about in, before the invention of IKEA bags.
Before I left though, I went for one last night out in The Rose and Crown with a whole bunch of friends. We had been hanging out for a couple of years, and while I didn't feel I knew them on any existential level for the most part, they had been a big part of my life for a long time. Their story was my story too. All the sordid party stories, all the fights gone wrong, all the love stories, all the tales of betrayal; we were all the culprits and the victims. How did I feel to be leaving? To be honest, I'd never truly left before. I had no idea. I didn't really feel I was leaving them. I was just taking the next step in my own story. My next chapter involved a different cast, and I was excited about that. So I wasn't sad to leave my friends (or my family come to that), just happy to be going.
|Thank you to Ilkley Cycling Club for the photo|
I caught another two trains that day, flagging a bit in the heat with standing room only on the last one, and was glad of an older couple's help carrying all my bags onto the ferry to the Isle of Man. It was a long trip, but I'd made it before, and I loved watching England dwindle away, and the island come into view.
|Me again - this time outside|
the cafe my flat was above
in Castletown. Thanks again to
my brother for the photo.
I loved that flat at first sight, and loved the chance of living with my fiancé Of course, things didn't work out perfectly, but on the day I left home, it looked pretty darn good.
What about you? When did you leave home? How did you feel about it? And did you end up going back?
This post is one of a series I'm doing inspired by Chantelle of Fat Mum Slim's suggestions of 50 things to blog about. If you're interested, here's links to all the ones I've done so far.