There’s no place like not quite like home

As I write this, it’s just over a month since I left Ireland. My Masters is in full swing (no, really. I haven’t had an evening off since I arrived), and Ireland have just been knocked out of the World Cup in a stadium just minutes down the road from my house.

I think it’s time for a mini reflection.

There’s been a few things I’ve had to adjust to since stepping off the plane that Tuesday evening.

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Five things I learned about moving country

Alright, yes, I do bang on about it. But I promise, this is a post that maybe you won’t roll your eyes too deep into your skull at. Maybe.

In the time leading up to when I left Ireland, I’d learned a lot. Both about life, and about myself.

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I remember that summer in . . . my parent’s house

College is over with almost two months now, and there’s still two months to go before heading back. All this means coming back to the homestead for a lot of people across the country.

For those who commuted to college each morning, this is no problem. Mamma and Pappa have been around all the time and there was no way to escape them. But for people who moved out for the college year, much like I have done, there is now the task of re-acquainting yourself with the idea of having the folks downstairs.

It might not be as bad as you’re making it out in your head though. Beyond the hiccups and moments where you plan their demise, living with Mammy and Daddy could be- dare I say it- actually kinda nice.

Thank you, kind parents.

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