Ahem. Yes, so, you know how one minute it's July and you're all eating Cornettos and sitting in beer gardens and messing about with friends and sleeping til whenever the hell you like, and then suddenly BAM the sun has gone behind a big old cloud and the British drizzle is back and it's September again. That just happened.
I don't usually mind this transition at all - I prefer knitwear to shorts anyway to be honest, and we all know the power of a pumpkin spice latte. For the past couple I've actively enjoyed it, because it's meant popping back 3 hours south down to Portsmouth to a rickety (yet charming in that student way) house filled with four of my most hilarious and lovely friends. I also liked my degree, that I could spend hours reading books as research and that all my work could be written from under a duvet.
This is different, though. I am not quite going out into the big wide world just yet, but I'm actually embarking on an MA course. It's not in my home town of Worcester, and neither is it at my adopted University of Portsmouth. I'm doing it to myself yet again and moving to Sheffield Hallam. This time there is no house full of crazy bitches to keep me company, it's just me in a cutie patootie lil flat. I know in the long run I won't regret it - being adventurous enough to (and lucky enough to be able to) move to another city - but it doesn't stop it being bloody terrifying.
Keep yer fingers crossed for me that I don't balls this one up?