Moving out again

My life is in boxes and bags and piled up in a tumble of belongings. Too much stuff; too many things. And still I panic that I might not have everything I "need". Because I really do need that extra pair of shoes, that hat, those jars... The joys of packing.

It's been funny, being at home. I love it, but simultaneously I can't wait to get out. I love being with my family, being in my creaky old ikea bed that I've had since I was 3, being cooked for and cared for. But I'm used to my own rhythm, now, and I crave being in charge of my own life again, being able to cook what I want and go out when I feel like it and not be tied down to anyone. Every time that I'm home, I feel it more and more intensely. A month at home has been brilliant, but I'm ready now.

Auf Wiedersehen, Yorkshire; with more cookbooks than course books and enough lentils to sink the proverbial ship, I'm toonward bound.