YA: The Last Month (Thank You and Goodnight)

This is it. My last ever year abroad blog (probably) and certainly the last blog I'll ever write in Germany. I can't quite believe it. All those memories, those tales, those thousands of words... it all comes down to this moment. We've had some times, though, eh? Granted, those times were mostly stories of my inability to hold my alcohol in various parts of Europe, but they were damn good times none the less. I hope you enjoyed reading about them as much as I enjoyed living them. Don't get teary just yet, though., 'cause I've got one last lot of tales to impart before I sign this year abroad off for good. Are you sitting comfortably? Good. Then I'll begin.

We decided that as it was our last month as citizens of Europe we had an obligation to try and see as much of it as physically possible. I'd already done Copenhagen, Amsterdam (x2), Groningen, Paris and virtually the entirety of NRW. It was time to add two more cities to that list: Berlin and Prague. The Deutsche Haupstadt came first, on our first full weekend back after the Easter holidays. We packed our shorts and our sunnies (the weather forecast was good), Kate brushed up on her fun facts about the Brandenburg Gate and we boarded the 7.05 inter-city express out of Duisburg. As soon as we arrived, I remembered all the reasons why Berlin had been my first choice of where to spend my year abroad. It´s certainly not the prettiest city I´ve seen (though some of the buildings are superb), but there´s so much culture and history there, not to mention so much hipster chic, and when I was walking round I really felt at home. It's just one of those cities where you can walk around for hours, content to soak up the atmosphere, which is pretty much exactly what we did; we thoroughly beasted all of Berlin´s famous monuments, walking at least two miles all over the city in the blazing sunshine and taking snapshots (or at least Ally and Kate took snapshots, my camera chose to die, an act I will never forgive it for). It was also lovely to catch up with some Sheffies who I hadn´t seen since we finished second year last June. Big thanks to Alex, Lucas and Rachel for showing us how to rock it up Berlin style. All in all, it was a wonderful weekend and I'm looking forward to getting myself back there sometime soon.

Prague was a different experience again. We chose to take the over-night train down because it was cheaper than flying, but unlike for my trip to Copenhagen (when I had a carriage to myself), the little compartment was very crammed and uncomfortable and there was very little sleeping achieved. It was worth the difficult journey, though, because Prague is stunning. I could have spent my entire two days there simply taking enough pictures of beautiful buildings to fill the hard-drive on my computer. We walked from architectural masterpiece to architectural masterpiece, mouths hanging open; Charles Bridge, the Astrological Clock, the castle, the palace, the Old Town Square, the museum, the Municipal House... we must have covered them all and all in the sensational Czech sunshine. At nights, true to form, we searched out bars. Recommendations from my home friends Charlie and Tom lead us on the first night first to a reasonable and excellent restaurant called Stoleti and then onwards to a quirky little locals bar (Duende) just up the street where they sell beer for just 20 Czech crowns. That's less than a euro, people. Both places were tucked away down the back streets, representative of what all of Prague must have been like before the stag parties arrived. The second night we tried a bar just behind the church in the Old Town Square where we must have been the only people not to be dressed as zombies (the reason behind the hordes of zombies mooching around the city I still don't know). We did, however, get picked up by a sort-of bar crawl of Canadians, Aussies, New Zealanders and a couple of Brits, who were on a camping tour of Europe's more famous cities. We took a trip to a funky underground bar with them, but opted out of their plans for Prague's star five-story club, which, from the outside, looked liked an over-priced temple to hen-party tourism. Instead we took a short walk and ducked into a likely looking place (actually opposite the bar from the previous evening) where we got chatting to a couple of Czech blokes. We enquired as to traditional Czech alcohol, and they provided us with what can only be described as a strange green herbal concoction smelling of ginger. Apparently there were eighteen different herbs in it, but I can't confirm this. I can confirm, however, that it was pretty strong and pretty horrible. After being plied with a couple more of (different) traditional Czech drinks, and Czech blokes in tow, we muzzily wandered off into the night and ended up in the bar we'd started off in the first place, where we remained until 6am despite the fact it was virtually entirely dead (no zombie pun intended). The journey home the next day (incorporating a three hour bus journey, I might add) was hungover to say the least.

There have also been some equally enjoyable shenanigans closer to home, specifically an event that took place in the interim weekend between these two excellent trips. Anyone who is anyone knows that the Eurovision song contest was held this year in Düsseldorf and who were we, living a mere fifteen minutes away, not to take advantage of this? I say fifteen minutes, some of my friends travelled much further than that. A lot took the hour trip from Münster, but full commitment points go to Lyndsay for coming all the way from Holland and to Matt for coming all the way from France. Despite the fair amount of embarrassment that ensues from having to support Blue (and, I think in all cases, Jedward) we painted ourselves blue, white and red and waved our union jacks with gusto. It was a great atmosphere, thousands of people gathering in Johannes-Rau Platz for what was essentially a massive outdoor Euro-disco, and is definitely one of my most favourite moments of this year. I think we were all surprised that Europe took Jedward so well (they are now frequent players in the German charts) but there was the little groan of disappointment from the Brits when Germany crept ahead of us at the final hurdle.

After we got back from Prague, the countdown to the end began. I de-registered as a German citizen, closed my bank account and started packing my life here into suitcases and boxes. Kelsey, Kate and Carol helped me paint my room back into ship-shape condition and I began saying my goodbyes at Heinrich-Heine. On the Thursday, I got given a goodbye gift from the girl I have been taking for Nachhilfe all year and got to play games (and dish out goodies) in my final lesson with 7a. I took sweets for both my Klasse 6 groups (earning myself a round of applause from 6a and a cheer from 6b) and thank you presents for the teachers I've been closest to. I also got thank you presents myself, from Petra and Jan and also from the school, Herr Winkler presenting me with my very own Heinrich-Heine-Gymnasium much in "corporate-friendly blue". Everyone said lovely things and I have to admit I got a bit teary.

Of course, we wouldn't be being true to form if there wasn't a big ol' piss-up to send us on our way, and boy did we do it in style. We didn't just go out to party; we treated Düsseldorf to a round of pub golf. Beginning (of course) at the Irish pub, we smashed our way through nine holes, including Guinness, Altbeer, Vodka Ahoi and an Irish Car-Bomb to top it all off. There was chugging. There were forfeits. There was extreme bladder control. Our outfits and plastic gold clubs attracted a lot of attention and we ended up picking up a group of Germans around the second hole who, fascinated, followed us from bar to bar so that they could play along. I think we probably covered all the essentials of one of our Germany nights out as well, what with the karaoke, the chatting to strangers, the losing people, the funny looks from passers by and the huge volume of drunken photography. What a perfect night to end on. Or not quite end on, should I say, because the following day we decided to grillen und chillen (chill out with a barbecue) at Carol's. It was a great excuse to have one last relax together with a beer and say goodbye to some of the excellent people we've met over the year. Maxime and Chris departed with promises to come visit and Sheffield and tears were shed when we (after many hugs) said goodbye to Kelsey. We hung out the window and waved her all the way down the street. I spent Sunday gathering up the last remaining items dotted about my room and stuffing them wherever they would fit in my vast amounts of luggage before Mum and Dad arrived on Monday with the car, ready to transport it all. We went out on Monday evening for a slap-up German meal at the Schackt Brauhaus, afterwards taking advantage of the hottest day of the year to sit outside Hundertmeister for a cocktail and one last giggle. Too soon it was time for hugs and bis balds and we all went out separate ways. I took my very last night-time walk home through Duisburg, got five hours sleep and went to teach my final lesson, which happened to be Vertretung. Just goes to show, education doesn't care if it's your last day or not, you still have to preside over an hour and a half of chaos. I then got my lovely goodbye, handed in my keys and left HHG for very last time. I went and met my wonderful parents, got teary again, and went to finish off sorting the last bits of my life into boxes. My room is back to the stark white state I found it in, the car is packed and I'm leaving... now.

There have been so many points this year when I have had to stop and think "wow, my life is awesome": dancing in Balkan music in a disused candy factory in Copenhagen, singing Karneval songs at the top of my voice at a Düsseldorf street party, lying on my back in a park in Münster listening to acoustic guitar, train-hopping across Holland, waving inflatable microphones and cheering my support at Eurovision, climbing the steps up to Prague castle just to gaze at the view, chatting up Tubelord in an obscure Duisburg bar, fighting dirty for sweets at the Rosenmontag parades, basking in the Berlin sunshine at Alexanderplatz, hanging out in the square late at night to drink beer and swap stories, walking round Paris in winter, roasting Bratwursts on a disposable BBQ behind Carol's building, buying hot Glühwein at a Christmas market in Cologne, feeding penguins at the zoo, playing drinking games in a shabby Amsterdam hotel room with a bunch of random Dutch boys... I could go on. And on and on and on.

But this year would have been nothing, nothing, without the people. I have made some incredible friends throughout the course of this and I want to thank each and every one of you for making my year abroad something truly special. First, Kelsey. You've been stuck with me ever since I had to steal all your toothpaste when we were room-mates in Altenburg and somehow you're still my friend; thanks for being there through the ups and downs and for putting up with nine months of similarly stupid behaviour. Kate, Carol, Lara, Ally and Jo - my local lovelies, fellow Dortlube members and pub golf partners in crime - thanks for letting me crash your friendship group and stick around. You've given me more giggles and lovely memories than I could possibly shake a stick at. I will see you all again, and soon - this is simply happy bis bald tard! Then my fellow Sheffies... Freebs, thanks for kicking this whole shebang off with me at Manchster airport all those months ago; I probably wouldn't have made it here without you. Soph, thanks for having me to stay and showing me Cologne and for being at the end of a Facebook thread when I needed some contact with home.  Lynsday and Matt, I can't believe I wasted two years of my life not being best friends with you. You'd better know that you're both now pretty much indispensable to me and we are most certainly carrying on our Münster shenanigans when we get back in fourth year. And speaking of Münster, I need to thank those Münstites: Cerys, Linz, Sammy, Amy, Jon, Sarah G, Pete, Amelia, Emily, John R, John P, Gina, Lukas, Johan, Sarah H... thank you for letting me (and Kelsey) crash all your parties, for providing beds and floors, for making us feel like part of the posse and for just generally being brilliant. You're the most ramshackle and hilarious bunch of people I've ever had the pleasure to meet. To everyone at Heinrich-Heine, teacher or pupil, but especially to Jan, Petra and Franzi, I want to say thank you for being so supportive and welcoming and making me a part of your world for nine months. I've really enjoyed my job and just hope that I've done it well. Finally, there's everyone else that I've met along the way who have at various points helped me out, partied with me, gave me music, kept me company, invited me to things, lived with me or simply just been my friend: Hanna, Nicola, Hannah, Maxime, Chris, Heather, Sona, Lena, Andrey, Julian, Thomas, Miriam, Nadja... the biggest thanks to all of you, too, for adding your own excellence to an already excellent year.

When I think about how I felt about my year abroad way back in September, I'm ashamed. I was so negative, so disbelieving of all the people that told me that it would be the best year of my degree. I never would have imagined that I would be sitting here, nine months down the line, teary-eyed because I don't want to leave. This year has changed me, I think. There's something about having to cope entirely on your own in a foreign country and about setting up a life and a network of friends virtually from scratch that makes you a much more confident and flexible person. I don't really have any fears for my future any more; the miscellaneous experiences of this year have taught me that I can pretty much cope with whatever life throws my way, even if it's at 7 o'clock in the morning. I'm proud of myself too, because I think the Georgie of a couple of years back wouldn't have been able to do something like this at all. I consider coping with this year to be one of my greatest achievements; it's testimony that I'm finally independent and, in the majority of respects anyway, an adult. But, life-enhancing rubbish aside, the main thing is that I have enjoyed every single solitary second of this experience. Every last bit of it. The job, the travelling, the parties and especially the people... it's been one hundred percent incredible. I'm going to miss it very, very much.

And that's it. I have (at last) nothing left to write. But 'WTW?' is by no means dead. The year abroad side of its existence may have drawn to a close but it will still operate, and frequently, with reviews, views and any other rubbish I may need to get off my chest. This is not the end. I'll be back very soon so, as always, stay tuned. In terms of my year abroad, though, I will leave you with one last thought: I thought that this year would be awful. I thought that I would hate it. I thought I would be lonely and friendless and counting down the days until May 31st. Instead, I've ended up loving it more that I could possibly articulate, I've met the most incredible people and these last few days I've wanted time to back-pedal so I can stay here just that little bit longer.

Isn't it amazing just how wrong a person can be?

YA: To Miss Or Not To Miss...

Considering I´ve got less than a month in Germany left to go, I´ve been spending a considerable amount of time thinking about all the things I´m going to miss when I go home and all the other things I won´t be so sad to leave behind. There´s a considerable amount in both catorgories and I thought, mostly because I´ve got vast reserves of time to bun at work today, that I would share these thoughts with you all.

First, I will be thoroughly glad to get rid of the early mornings. German school starts ludicrously early; the first lesson commences at 8.15, but some clever-dick also invented the 0te Stunde (a lesson ususally used only when the school are unable to fit certain sixth form classes into an ordnary timetable) which begins a whole 50 minutes earlier at 7.25. I´ve just about got used to the 6am wake up calls on ordinary school days but it´s excruitating for my student brain to be forced out of bed at 5.15 every Tuesday and expected to be awake and alert two hours later. It´s especially excruitating when, after two weeks off, you drag yourself into work at this oscenely early hour to find that the teacher you´re supposed to be working with is, in fact, away, and the class is cancelled. Like today. However, I will miss the job itself. I am by no means a natural teacher and I'm fairly confident it will not be a career I will be pursuing once my degree is over, but I can't deny that's it's been fun and there have been moments when I have been immensely proud of the classes I've helped to teach. Then there's the wage, which is bangin'. I will also miss playing my fun game, "Spot The Mini-Versions Of My Friends Among The Kids". A surprising number of you do have miniature HHG counterparts.

Another thing I will not miss is the pedantic fining system employed on German public transport. Buying a train ticket is a complex and confusing process as it is, never mind in another language, and god-forbid you should get it wrong because if you have the wrong ticket, or have forgotten your ticket, or have incorrectly stamped your ticket and you get caught, it means you will have to cough up 40 of your hard-earned Euros. Don´t have 40Euros on you? No problem! We´ll print out a ticket for you and you can pay us later at your convenience, providing your convenience is within fourteen days of issue, of course. And don´t even think about ducking out of paying it, because we´ve got your address now, Sonny Jim, we popped it into our little machine during your humiliating dress-down on the train not moments ago, and we'll be taking further action if you do not GIVE US THE MONEY. Saying that, the German train system, as frustrating as I may find it at times, is actually a vast improvement on the Britsh one (I am aware that this is not a difficult feat to achieve). As a paid-up member of a University, you can enjoy free public transport throughtout your Bundesland, and living on the continent does allow cheap and easy access via train to the rest of Europe. Me and my friends have just scored over-night tickets driect from Duisburg to Prague for 70Euros a piece, a whole 50Euros cheaper than the lowest-priced flight. I will certainly miss these low-cost travelling opportunities when back on my little island. The variety of places that have been so easily within my reach this year continually blows my mind; not only Czechoslovakia, but also Holland, France, Denmark and the east of Germany (which is actually pretty far away). And that´s only the places I´ve decided to visit. It would havebeen abundantly simple to hop on a train to Austira or Italy should the fancy have taken me. Not only that, but I love the fact that I can take a train to visit my friends who live over an hour away in Münster and it´s still free. Getting a train at home always seems like such a hassle, but here it´s a way of life. If I want to go for  night out in, say, Leeds, then the trip from Sheffield will require careful planning, estimated arrival times and a place to stay. Here, we go on nighs out to Düsseldorf all the time, because the trains run every fifteen minutes, it´s free for us and, because the trains run through the night, we know there´ll always be a way to get home again later.

Another area I have mixed feelings towards is the food; I both love and abhor German food in equal measure. The biscuits, for example, are exquisit, as is the abundance of different flavours of Milka and Ritter Sport (though since I found out you can now buy caramel Milka in Sainsburys I´m less distrught about leaving German chocolate behind.) I like that my wages allow me to buy smoked salmon on a regular basis, a product which my expensive tastes have unfotunately contirved to make me addicted to and as a student in Britain I can never afford. I believe Vapiano is the greatest chain restaurant in history and can´t believe we don´t have it at home. I enjoy Bratwurst and Currywurst and revel in the seemingly limitless varities of ice cream availible from the many Eiscafes than adorn Germany´s streets. Seriously, I cannot understand why we have not yet introduced the concept of the ice-cream parlour to Britain - none of you are going to want a Magnum when you can get Nutella, Tirimasu and Biscotti flavour at 80p a scoop. But then, there´s all the things that Germany lacks: marmite, proper tea, good bread, chedder cheese, chocolate digestives, non-processed sandwich meat, fresh milk (don´t give me that, the stuff you guys have is NOT fresh), decent chinese takeaways, fresh soups, baking potatoes, Jazz apples... I could go on. I rarely cook properly here either, due to a dramatic lack of freezer space in my flat, meaning that on the rare occasions I do buy fresh meat I have to have huuuuge meals to get rid of it all before the use-by date. I'm quite looking forward to making real meals again once I am safely ensconced in my new student house. Additionally, I plan to have a very emotional reunion with my toasty-maker. Man, I have missed toasties.

German alcohol I am going to miss rather less than German eidble delicacies. Here, my usual spirit-tipples are, though not unavailible, ludicrously expensive, so I have trained myself into liking beer. Unfortuantly, I have been rather too successful. I now love all the varities of German beer, from Alt to Weiss and from Kölsch to Pils. I think it´s brilliant that different cities have their own brands of beer, and ordering  Kölsch in Düsseldorf will lead you to being shouted down by the barman. However, this new found liking for beer has made me, to quote my mother, "whack it on". So now I am on a stirct diet and exercise regime to try and lose that half-stone before bikini season. Also, it´s difficult to miss it when I know that I will be able to hunt out my favourite varieties back home; other than Düsseldorf Altbeir, I´ve succeed in finding all the best ones on the continental beer shelf at Tesco. So really, I won't be losing out at all on the beer front back in England and therefore I'm just quite excited about being able to get back to nights out when I will not have to expend over a fiver to get a single vodka and lemonade.

I'm also looking forward to getting back the the British music scene. Germany is OK as far as music goes, but the local radio stations are frankly dire and as a country they are seriously lacking in record shops, even large ones (no HMV equivalent in sight because, no, I'm sorry, Saturn is incomparable). With my limited internet allowance, using Spotify and streaming radio stations has had to be kept to an absolute minimum, and whilst I'm immensely grateful to Charlie for letting me scam her music collection every couple of months, I want to be back in the thick of it, going to gigs, buying albums and discovering new music for myself. And it isn't just music-shopping possibilities that are thin on the ground and generally shopping in Germany is a bit of a chore. It will be nice to be able to go out to buy a new jumper and not know for an absolute certainty that you will buy it from H&M.

One thing I will certainly not miss is my flat. With it´s cold white walls and grey, dust-collecting lino floor it was always distinctly unloveable, and though I spruced my room up with photos and large amounts of cushions, the fact remains that I don´t really get on with my flatmates. The fault is partly mine, I never really made an effort to get to know them, but if they will persist in speaking Russian to eachother then I´m not really sure how I´m meant to. The new girl that moved in just before I went home for Easter is lovely, but it doesn´t change the fact that I´ve spent the majority of the year risiding with people who I´m fairly convinced don´t like me all that much.

So, I won´t miss Ruhrorterstrasse, but I certainly will miss Duisburg. I´m not going to lie, it is a bit of a dump. Very industrial, little culture and not much going on. However, I seemed to have developed the same bond with it as I have with my hometown of Nottingham. It´s crap and I know it and I say it a lot, but it´s still mine and if anyone else tried to say anything even remoteoy unflatterng I will defend it to the hilt. I don´t regard it with anywhere near the level of affection that I have for Sheffield, and the list of haunts that I can reel off is comparitively short, but there are still places that I´ve enjoyed visitng and will miss not being within a stones-throw of: Djazz, the bar near Kate´s with the funky toilet walls, the Innenhafen, the park where we had our little barbecue, the amazing tapas place, Carol´s flat (the site of so many laptop parties), Golden Grün, the statue of the naked man dealt a rough hand by Mother Nature... Then there's all the places we've frequented outside of Duisburg, like the Irish pub in Düsseldorf and Piano in Münster. All of these places and the others besides hold a great wealth of happy memories and it will be a shame not to be able to visit them again, at least not for a very long time.

Most of all, I will miss my way of life here. I've had it extremely cushy. I work for less than twelve hours a week and spend the rest of my time swanning about Europe with my friends, not a bad ol' life. I have met a truly fantastic bunch of people out here and it has been an absolute pleasure to share a year's worth of increible experiences with them. So, I think, it's not hard to see why now, at three weeks before I leave, I am a bit of a conflicted soul. Who wouldn't love my current low work, high play lifestyle? I party, I travel, I have an absolute ball. The amazing stuff about living in Europe  and the wonderful people I share it with far outweighs any niggles I have about less-than-enthusiastic flatmates and crumbly bread. But I love my life back in England too, you all know how much. There is so much of me yearning to get back the UK, with my degree and my music and my favourite places, and yet so much of me that wants to stay behind. Because missing my life at home does not mean I don't love my life here. I love them both. And to be honest, right now, I couldn't tell you which one I love more.

Music: Please Provide Clear Evidence Of Your Knowledge And Passion For Music

I've started applying for work experience for the summer, and as unlikely as getting a place will be, I'm going for a couple of BBC ones. I've just written an answer to a question for a one week placement at Radio 1 (well, you've got to be in it to win it) but I'm actually quite pleased with how it sounds so I thought I'd pop it on here. I'm not sure if it's the kind of answer they were after, but it's how I'm interpreting the question, and as I once told  a literature lecturer, an interpretation can never be wrong.

Question: Please provide clear evidence of your knowledge and passion for music.


I cannot remember a time when I was not entirely committed to music. Every Christmas present I ever asked for as a child was a device upon which I could play music: a cassette player, a CD walkman, my battered and much used ipod, a digital radio alarm clock so that music could be the first thing I heard when I woke up in the morning. Whilst other students spend a fortune on nights out or expensive vintage clothing, I blow all my spare cash on concerts, CDs and unusual musical merchandise (my favourite piece of merch by far is my Stornoway camping tin water bottle). I am aware that buying CDs may be considered a tad unusual for someone of the internet generation. I know we live in a digital age and I’ll admit that the internet has been a fantastic medium for exposing us to music we may never otherwise have discovered, but I still think there’s something much more magical about popping the hard copy in the hi-fi and settling down and really listening to the music. Or standing up and really dancing to it. When you download an album you get the songs, yes, but with a physical album you can look at the artwork, read the lyrics and the thank yous and feel properly connected to the band and the wonderful sound that they have produced. That’s why I think illegal downloading is so terrible; it’s being unbelievably disrespectful to something so many people have worked so hard to create. I believe anyone who downloads illegally is essentially saying that they aren’t interested in the production of new and exciting music, because without money, how are bands ever going to be able to afford to produce it? Music is beautiful and is thoroughly worth paying for.

I research music for fun. There’s nothing I like more than delving into soundcloud or last.fm armed with nothing but a cup of tea and a notebook. I get indecently excited when I can recommend new music that I’ve found to friends, even more so when they recommend new stuff to me. I write articles about new music I have discovered, about albums I’ve heard and about gigs I have seen, not because anyone has told me to or because there is a deadline is hanging over my head, but because I simply want to let other people know that I have heard something marvellous and think they should know about it too. I have been lucky enough to have had a little taste of what working with music is like. I have reviewed gigs and albums and had my articles published, I have interviewed reasonably famous bands (the Futureheads and the Holloways included), and every time I get close to the music industry in this way I feel privileged that, even just for a second, I’ve been able to be a part of it. It’s similar every time I watch a band perform;  be it the clear, crisp, heartfelt vocals of Emmy The Great or Twin Atlantic smashing out chords until the audience’s ears bleed, I feel inextricably happy to be there, connected to everyone else in the room who feels just like me and knowing that I want to be able to do this every single day of my life.

I wasn’t quite sure what response was expected for this question. I think perhaps I was supposed to give a bit more of a technical answer. However, I don’t think it’s possible to deny my true and unrelenting passion for music, nor my knowledge and willingness to extend it even further. Everything written above is exactly how I feel about music, and, if you think about it, that’s exactly what music is for: to make you feel.

YA: Friends > Chocolate

I am not religious. You probably know this; I am extremely vocal about this fact, and it means, of course, that at Easter time I'm only in it for the chocolate. Except, this year, I was less about the chocolate* and more about that 18.55 flight out of Cologne, destination England after three month absence. I was so excited I fidgeted and bounced around in my seat for the entire flight and fairly flattened old ladies in my attempts to get through the Manchester arrivals gate first to throw myself on my waiting parents.

To say I hadn't been in Nottingham for a while, I didn't really hang around. We got back fairly late on the Thursday night, leaving little time for anything other than a quick cuppa before I took an almighty running jump onto my beautiful, soft, squidgy, comfortable mattress. As for Friday, I spent a day catching up with my cousin and my adorable little second-cousin and partaking in a nice meal for my grandma's birthday (a night ever cemented in my mind as the night my eighty-three-year-old grandmother downed a flaming sambucca) before hitting the road for a weekend in Edinburgh early Saturday morning.

Edinburgh is a city that does know how to blow my mind. I love it there; the buildings, the culture, the abundance of Scottish people.** Katie and myself arrived mid-afternoon which gave us plenty of time to drop our stuff at the hostel (where we were deeply disappointed that we didn't get put in the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles room), grab a meal and wander up the Royal Mile in search of a drink before Charlie rocked up around 11, hyper and over-tired from 13 hours of flying. We tried a bit of a night out, but the club, to coin a popular phrase I believe the kids are using nowadays, blew the big time and we gave it up as a bad job. The next day we sauntered around the sunny streets, lunched in one of mine and Charlie's favourite cafe-discoveries from last summer and caught some rays in the park. Sounds nice enough all by itself, no? Yeah, well, it gets better.

You see, I didn't decide just to take a trip to Scotland purely to swan about and drink coffee (as much as I enjoy this pastime). Me and Katie had an ultra-awesome reason for being in the 'Burgh that weekend, and that reason was a chap named Tim Minchin. I had been nothing short of gutted that I had missed all his more local dates before Christmas (you guessed it, I was in Germany), especially as this new tour saw Tim sporting a full orchestra and a host of new and remastered songs. I'd been just able to cope with missing hosts of gigs from my other favourite musicians and comedians, but I decided this was one too many, and when I found out that his Scotland dates coincided with my Easter holidays I thought "bugger it" and booked. The fact that Katie came with me only proves her great commitment to comedy. So, we left Charlie (who had already seen Tim's tour) to go and route out a Chinese takeaway and an obscure poetry reading, and went for a night at the theatre. It. Was. Incredible! Minchin was on fantastic form, his old songs sounding unbelievably good in orchestral score and his new material making me laugh until tears rolled down my cheeks. One for my top ten comedy gigs, certainly. Once Tim had performed his second encore (White Wine In The Sun - I cried) and we had purchased our Rock 'N Roll Nerd mugs, we went to meet up with Charlie again, catching a bit of light folk music at Sandy Bell's before turning in. Monday saw yet more coffee and wanderings and also the bizarre occurrence of someone throwing an egg at me our of a car window. It didn't smash, fortunately, but rather bounced off my thigh with some force and cracked when it hit the road. But seriously, a drive by egging? Who does that? After this ridiculous event, me and Katie dropped Charlie at the station for her journey onwards to St Andrews and went and spent silly amounts of money on dresses. Whoops. Then there was just time for a quick baked potato (enormous, it was) before jumping on the train back down south. See you in August, Edinburgh.

The next few days were indeed Nottingham time. I caught up with Bex and Ruth over lunch on the Tuesday, before Bex dragged us round 'most every shop in town before letting us have a breather in Starbucks. We had a healthy dinner of chicken salad and curled up in Bex's bed to watch Harry Potter. The next few days were devoted family time; my mum and me took a trip to Market Harborough to see our cousin, we went shopping and on Easter Sunday we had a good ol' fashioned slap-up family lunch. Saying that, on the Thursday night I absented myself from relative shindigs to hit up the Rebel and Bar 11 launch night with Becky. There was wine and excellent music and a good time was had by all. I think.

With my holidays ticking away, it was time to hit my favourite city of the them all, my uni-town, my place: SHEFFIELD, BABY! I tell you, it felt so good to be back after such a long absence. Speshy met me at the station on Monday night and we dragged all my bags up the hill to the house that will be mine in less than two months. We had long over-due tea and chats which went on far too late considering we had to get up super-early the next day and travel to Manchester. Spesh had somehow managed to get herself conned into booking  a fancy photo-shoot and we had to go and partake in order to get her deposit back. With a pact to buy no photos in place, we enjoyed having our hair and make-up done and stocking up on free snacks before being be shepherded into the studio where we were ordered to pose in various positions that made us look like wanky twats. When it came to the photo viewing, the girl was very much on the hard-sell and we struggled to stick to our pact just because of all the pressure. However, then we remembered that they wanted to charge SEVENTY POUNDS PER PRINT, stuck to our guns and legged it.

Back in Sheffield, I picked up my stuff and headed down the hill again to Rosie's where I was stopping the next two nights with Charlie. There was time for a quick cup of tea and a catch up before we headed out for the Folk Train. If you live in Sheffield and you've never been on the Folk Train, then I heartily recommend it. The last Tuesday of every month, lovers of folk board the 7.14 from Sheffield to Edale to enjoy three hours of beautiful music and scenery. The band play on the train, in the pub upon arrival at Edale and all the way on the train back again. A different band every month, April's was Happy Red Tractors and they were superb, playing a mix of traditional English, Greek and Russian folk. As the train arrived back into Sheffield just after 10, we considered the night to be still young and nipped into the Lescar on Sharrowvale Road for a cider. We got slightly more tipsy than we intended, danced New York, New York all the way back to Rosie's after last orders and when me, Charlie and Katie all tried to cram into Richie's already very broken bed we made it collapse and had to drunkenly try and piece it back together again.

Wednesday was a celebration of my second year haunts. First, Katie in tow, I went and got my hair cut and picked up my new Ucard (I can get into the IC again - hooray?) and then went and met Rosie, Charlie and Louise in town. We took a slow stroll down Division Street visiting all the little boutiques before grabbing lunch from Zooby's (the fairtrade cafe in the Winter Gardens), dodging the snooker commentators as we went. The afternoon saw sunbathing in the Peace Gardens and coffee at Bungalows and Bears, the evening dinner at the Old House and cocktails at the Wick At Both Ends and I spent the whole time wishing I was back for good already instead of having to wait another six or seven weeks.

I hit the road home on Thursday afternoon for one last evening with my parents, an evening which seem to flash by, and all too soon I was pulling my suitcase through the arrivals gate at Cologne airport. Three and a half hours of frustrating train journeys later I was pulling that same case through my front door in Duisburg. It's hard to believe that I've come back for my final four weeks. In some ways my wonderful Easter trip to the UK has made me long to be back there more than ever; I miss my life in Sheffield, and even these few short weeks seem to be too long to wait before I can get back to it. I miss my family and my friends, and would once again like to thank them for being so brilliant and for giving me yet another wonderful holiday to remember. That said, I've have such a fantastic time here that I'm not sure I can quite face the idea of it being over so soon. But it's not over quite yet; I've got exactly one month to tear up Germany and make the end of my year abroad as epic as the preceding seven or so months. There's Berlin. There's Eurovision. There's (hopefully) Prague. So all in all, it looks set to be a bit of a corker. And, as always, I'll be sure to let you know all about it.


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* Not least because my mother has now decided that after the age of eighteen all Easter gifts should come in the form of nightwear; this year, a dressing gown.
** That accent. Hommanaah.