I don't *do* homesick. You know, the traditional kind where you long back to your comfy bed at your dad's and the wholesome meals at your mum's because you can't take care of yourself properly.
I don't do that because I *can* take care of myself properly: give me a recipe for a Sunday roast and I'll put a real, authentic English Sunday roast on the table, and I'll put all the clothes wrinkle-free and folded in every relevant wardrobe, and I'll hoover once a week, more if you've got cats and/or long hair with a tendency to shed. I don't depend on anyone except for my parents for my monthly allowance (which I'm actually no longer entitled to since I turned 21 last year and so I'm really very grateful that they're willing to do that as long as I'm studying... they're probably mad somewhere, but if they are it's probably genetic and that means I'm mad too, which is a conclusion that doesn't seem too far off, really) and DUO for my study finance. I'd have to get a job if I didn't, and I guess I could get one, considering my qualifications (as in, I've done cash register for 8 weeks and administration for 1 1/2 year, they're dying to have me in retail), but the time I'm allowed to spend now on studying and worrying about my past/present/future is worth so much more than the time I could spend on a job aside from studying (read as: I should really get a job because if I don't I'll go mad because of the free time I have to mull everything over).
But I miss it. My undergraduate days. The days where you could knock on your neighbour's door (if you live on 218 and your neighbour lives in the same flat but on 164, that's still a neighbour, right?) and more or less force them to go out with you to Sev until 2am, when all the bars close. The days where you could say something incredibly stupid to your instructor and your instructor would only laugh and tell you the right answer and consequently tell you to send in an abstract for this-or-that conference because it may or may not interest you but anyway you should be so lucky to have an instructor that points out conferences to you. The days where you'd get up in the morning, skip breakfast but still manage to get to your classes dressed and make-upped because somehow you can't fathom being in a classroom without looking the part. The days where you decide to do groceries at 6:50pm, just before closing time, and end up in a queue for the register right before/after your instructor for next morning's 8:45 class.
I don't miss Oostvoorne. Oostvoorne is just a tiny little village with 8,000 inhabitants, a bookshop and a handful of other shops. And a beach, but one that's polluted by the Europoort.
I don't miss Hellevoetsluis. Hellevoetsluis at least can boast the fact that there's something resembling a mall, and some history, and the fact that Napoléon visited the town in 1812 (or 1811, I don't care enough to remember), but I still don't miss it.
But I miss Middelburg, and the tiny little alleys that you could roam at 3 in the morning (I did that, you know, I once sat on the steps of the Oostkerk for two-and-a-half hours just waiting for the sun to come up) and the people with their heads too far stuck up their arse to see how beneficial Roosevelt Academy is to their sleepy provincial capital, proper pasta at La Piccola Italia, beer at Sev/Brooklyn/De Vriendschap/Barrel/De Mug, taking 5 minutes to walk to school each morning and seeing the Stadhuis in a slightly different light each morning, and getting coffee for €1,70 at A Domani because the coffee served by Uni coffee machines is crap. I'm not homesick. I'm undergrad-uni-sick.
Good thing RA's got a website that's updated every week.
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