Going Home at Weekends

I love my degree, especially this semester. I love the work and the modules and the whole experience of being here. That said, I also really enjoy going home at the weekends to see my family.

When I started this blog last summer, I talked about our move from Dublin to Wexford when I was twelve and why it was so hard for me. I talked about my lack of any emotional attachment to Wexford. That's still as true as it ever was, especially with my friends all being away at university themselves. But when I go home on a Friday afternoon and the bus pulls into Enniscorthy, I do feel content for one reason - I can see the family. Okay, and sleep in my own cosy bed for a couple of nights.

This whole 'going home at weekends' lark is an alien concept to many non-Irish people. As I've mentioned before, my best friend is studying in Britain, and she tells me that students there just do not go home very often during term. It seems that American students don't really do it either, unless they actually live nearby, in which case they probably live at home with their parents anyway. But we Irish seem determined to make the trek. I know people from Galway who have a good four-hour journey ahead of them, and they do it every week. Mine is not quite so bad; I can do it in two hours by bus depending on traffic.

Some people would argue that if you go home every weekend you're not completely independent. Well that's true, but I think that being semi-independent is good enough for now. I wouldn't say there are many students who are able to fund their own education - you're either on a grant or your parents can afford to pay your fees - so are any of us truly independent at this stage in our lives? Anyway, if your cooking exploits during the week are relatively successful (as mine have become) then it's nice to have a break at the weekend and enjoy Mammy's dinners. After all, you can't beat them.

I don't know what it's like at other universities, but as far as DCU is concerned, the campus is dead at weekends. The shop is closed, the restaurant is closed, so is the library on Sundays. Everyone living on campus is gone home, so there's no one around. There's only so much wandering around the city centre you can do - if there's no one to talk to, you're going to be lonely. I don't see the appeal in spending my weekends like that, so going home is the logical option.

It's funny what you take for granted, even just being away for a few days. My shower in Larkfield is perfectly adequate - it gets the job done, even if the water has an annoying tendency to heat up and cool down every few seconds - but having a shower at home is luxury. I've never been one of those girls who take ages to get ready in the mornings (at any rate I prefer evening showers) but I have realised that recently I've been taking longer showers at home than I would in Dublin. Also, the bed situation. I think I've mentioned before that my bed here is pretty comfortable, but there's nothing quite like my own bed at home. After a week in a single bed, a double bed is pretty damn amazing.

The only irritating thing about being at home is that my parents and sisters have developed a strange habit of forgetting that I've actually been present for certain events. For example, my sister might say, "X fell over on Dancing on Ice last weekend." And I'll say, "I know - I was here watching it with you, remember?" Sometimes it's like the only one who remembers I was there is the dog.

Back to the positives though. I really am very close to my parents and we get on so well. Some of my friends think that's really odd, because you're supposed to fight with your parents! But I can honestly say that the vast majority of the time, we get on fine. We've always been a close family, and I think that's probably the main reason why I love going home at weekends. It's a nice balance to have.