I am packing up my room for the last time.

I picked up the letter with my results in it from campus today, and it appears that I have finished my Bachelor of Arts in English & History with Second Class Honours (Upper Division). Save for one particularly nasty module, I’ve managed to keep my head pretty well above water. But better than that, it’s been an extraordinary three years. Fun and rewarding. I head home on Monday. I’m looking forward to seeing my family and my home, but obviously there was freedom here that will be missed. I’m putting off travelling until I can do it under my own steam (and also once said steam is more stable), so that means that the primary order of business is getting a job ASAP. I’ve always wanted to be a real writer, a dream that’s only grown in the last couple years (with the aid of a creative module, for which I averaged a mark of 74, and with the support of my good friend Abby), but that takes a long, long time, and I need something, anything, to tide me over. This is end of my student-lifestyle, and the real world is beckoning from the door with an umbrella and a rather dissatisfied expression.

But that’s not what’s making me sad. As I pack, I keep finding little items, mementos, doodles, notes and bizarre gifts. A tiny moustache made out of blue-tack. A note (that was, I’m proud to say, ‘special delivery) written in code. I’d tell you what it says, but I haven’t a clue. The point is, each thing is making me stop and think. The room is becoming bare with surprisingly little effort; I don’t have many things… But it’s taking an awful long time to get through. Packing my room for the last time.

A lot of things are changing. Fingers crossed for me being ready, right?