Decision time

Home is where the heart is so the saying goes. However, home is also the biggest pain since the fashion gods of the world thought it wise to bring back leggings.

So it comes as no wonder that the students, adolescents-call them what you want-people regard home as simply a free supermarket and a decent bed.

Stepping back into familiar territory of home is welcoming but it causes a much greater feeling, the feeling that you are not living your life to its full potential.

Having lived in the same house since the age of 3, going to university in Chester was bliss. Chester itself was a little piece of ancient history and it quickly became ‘home’ and after there years of education and alcohol experimentation the question of where next to set up house was breached.

The South is warm, fun and the general pace of life is so fast compared to its northern counterpart that many people choose never to live it. It is very rare these days to hear a northern accent in these parts (Surrey) generalisation or not, it is true.

In comparison the North is colder and in its own little way trapped in time. Granted, both areas share history but in experience, people in the North are much more likely to flash you a smile than the workaholics found on the streets of London.

Having been brought up in the South, the North was always exhilarating even the droning M6 was exciting. Perhaps it was the prospects of so many KFC’s, who knows?

So as crunch time grows ever closer this decision becomes more and more like Jaws. Do you pack up the best three years of life and move back in with parents, under the same rules and regulations that surrounded the then 17 year old, or do you stay up North, admit financial ruin, move in with friends and continue as an independent woman?

The very reasonable housing market and availability of jobs in Chester makes staying in Surrey point blank pointless. And let’s not forget there would always be the question ‘is moving back into your parents house a step backwards?’

Perhaps the only way to find out is to rent a house up North (well West Midlands) and give it a shot. So here’s to the next adventure and having survived student accommodation, several boiler explosions and killer mould, what’s the worst that can happen?