Things I have learnt from a month at my mother's

I've spent a month at my mother's house this summer, due to housing problems and a month long gap between studies. I'll probably not have another holiday for a year, possibly two depending on the work situation.

To begin with it was a novelty, being back in the dead end town. I spent years here and I've always hated it. However when I come back here on a holiday it's nice to wonder around aimlessly amongst people who don't seem able to or don't wish to see past the façade of emptiness. This town hasn't moved past it's history. It's quaint, but there's no future, no life. I've always described it as a retirement town, and although I see a slight change, there's more things in the town centre, I've not changed my opinion.

The other thing I understand more and more every time I come back is I was never here. I barely contributed when I was here, because I wasn't here very long and after excessive bullying when I was at high school I barely went out and had few to no friends. I can safely say I have no friends, seeing a total of three old friends while here for a month. I don't bump into people I've not seen for aeons because everyone has either moved away like me, or forgotten me completely.

At the start with it was nice, now I'm just lonely. I've not seen anyone for two weeks and it's like I've been here for too long. It's not my place here, that's what I've grown to understand.

I really understand how humans are temporary now, we'll be forgotten soon after death unless we're famous, and few people receive that level of fame. How many dead people can you remember outside of your own family? How many other people remember them? Case in point, we all forget. I'm not even dead yet.

Brambles grow quickly and they're a good anti-paedophile defence, because that bastard living here is still alive, and I'm not around to defend my family I'm glad to see that the brambles have grown meaning he now has to come up the front drive, rather than jumping over the fence and in through a window. However I have seen him looking over the fence. Hopefully he'll be dead soon because of his age, he has to be over 60, at least 70.

Too much free time is always a bad thing. Yes, I've cleared up a lot of things, got rid of many things I no longer want or need, but now I'm perpetually bored. I've run out of things to do, I'm still kitting but even that gets tedious after three full weeks.

I did go camping, but that was a disaster when one of the bags broke. I'm still working on my angry letter to Karrimor. Although I still raised £250 for Cancer Research, which I'm very proud of.

Soon I'll be back in France, next week I'll be signing my contract and starting my classes and work. Life is getting better. But my place is no longer here.