Well, it's happened. At the ripe old age of...well, if you know me, you know how old I am...I have officially taken on a title more usually reserved for millennials. I am, for the next six months at least, that most sneered at of creatures; the ''boomerang kid''.
I'm back in my old bedroom at the family home.
It's a means to an end. Before anyone thinks I'm suddenly single for some reason, disabuse yourself, please. Mr A is safely still in my life, thank the gods, but remains in Sussex. After being shockingly and unceremoniously dumped by an employer last August (no notice, and after 6 years of employment), I've given up working for myself and have taken a rather nice job with Fuckwittery Inc.. It's only a 6 month contract, but none the worse for that. However, it's full-time and I didn't want to commute, so I've moved back in with my parents for the duration. I'll go home at weekends. Mr A is cool with it. He's already ''owned'' the bed and besides, it's not as though we're joined at the hip or anything. He's been without me before; I had a year studying at Leith's in London, a period working away in Bermuda, fourteen months in Belgium - and he's often worked away. It works for us. We look on the separations as a bit of a re-boot.
I'm not sure how it will pan out. It's odd being back. I have to get my head around having lived away from here for more years than I care to remember. I have to get used to being a (sort of) child again. I have to get past the idea that I feel I have to ask permission, or let people know why I am (or I'm not) doing things - don't get me wrong, it's certainly not expected, but it's still someone else's house and not mine. I have to get past the self-imposed guilt of not wanting to sit and watch television downstairs, keeping company. Do they care that I don't want to do that every night? Probably not, but it's an odd feeling. When I was considering taking the job, we did have a conversation about mutual expectations were I to move in - it was the grown-up thing to do, but I'm the eldest child and I still have that goody-goody sensible chip firmly embedded, despite my best efforts at prying it out of my psyche. I suppose it all comes down, in the end, to mutual respecting of space, and recognising that we all do things differently.
My parents are pretty cool. It'll be fine. And the lovely ''children'' next door are allowing me to pirate off their internet, which is an unexpected bonus. The modern age has not yet caught up with Lord and Lady Oakwood, and this house is normally a technology-free zone - although I do have a cunning plan to change that. We have lent the Old Folk a tablet -and my mission, which I have chosen to accept, is to get them confidently onto the bloody thing, and off the Cobbled Highway, by the time I return home in September. So mote it be...
So here I am, resurrecting the blog from my cosy (and rent-free-at-their-insistence) bedsit. Do please stop by from time to time...
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