Have to say, I had a couple of wobbles in the week prior; Squidgeling J had caught a rather nasty cold off Squidgeling T (he's got Newschoolitis and has shared it round at home) so she wasn't feeling at all well, and I was rather worried as to how she'd cope with being away from home and ill.
We drove down to family, who live about a forty minute drive away from Bristol, and took the train from there into the city on the Saturday to get our bearings, find the hall of residence, and see some of where J's going to be spending the next four years.
It was great. We went to Brandon Hill and climbed Cabott's Tower (fab views, very tight spiral staircase; if you didn't know anyone well before you went to Bristol, you certainly would after crossing on the stairs with them!) I saw my first Banksy ('Well Hung'), and we spent a good half hour trying guitars and flicking through sheet music in the Hobgoblin Music Shop.
The train back to the family was...interesting. Half an hour late, then the train disappeared from the screen. Mr Squidge rushed us all off to get a train to Bath so we were a little closer to where we needed to be, but we missed it. Only to discover that the train that had disappeared from the screen had reappeared at an even later time. Except it wasn't at the platform it was supposed to be at.
All became clear when the nice BR man (!) came up to tell all us numpties waiting that the train was now on a different platform and was about to leave... Cue mad dash to that platform, then a Hong Kong kind of squeeze onto one of the two carriages we were allowed onto because the train was going to be split further up the line. Blimey, but it was packed tight. When we reached Bath, there were folk left behind because we simply couldn't squeeze anyone else on...
Eventually got back to family and had a lovely evening with them, even though J was starting to feel rather poorly after the exertions of the day.
Sunday morning, up bright and early, J feeling much better (hooray!) and we set off for Bristol. Yes, the car was packed. It had all the usual - clothes, kitchen essentials, bedding, plus fencing kit, camping kit, circus kit, a violin and a bike. Good job we have an estate car! J likened it to playing boot tetris...
Traffic wasn't as bad as we'd feared - it was the Bristol half marathon the same day, so we allowed extra time, just in case. Arrived, parked up, got the key, and started to unload.
Now, the thing I remember most about going to uni myself was my mum making my bed, so that was the first thing I did. J was busy saying hello to her flatmates who had/were arriving, so I unpacked as much as I could for her. She has a room in a flat on the top floor of the hall, (four flights of stairs!) so she's going to be fit when she comes home!
We left around half one after going out for lunch...J seemed happy and was looking forward to the hall social that evening.
|And yes, that's a homemade duvet cover and patchwork pillows...|
Like mother, like daughter.
Reminded me so much of my uni days and my room... I have a photo somewhere, almost the same as this, of me sitting on my bed in Randall Lines House...
Funniest thing happened as we left and reached the street, we whistled; we Squidges have a particular whistle to attract attention. Worked better than yelling and yawping when the kids were little, and still continues to work now. Anyway, we whistled from the road, and J peered out of her window. All we could see was the top of her head, then her hands waving at us, then her jumping up and down. Look closely...you can see her, just! Reminded me of those cartoons, with the caption 'Wot no...?' next to someone peering over a wall.
Saw my second Banksy on the way back, (Girl on a balloon swing) as well as some Silent Hobo - who, I have only just realised, did a huge mural in Loughborough a few years back!
I didn't cry. Thank goodness. Not until I got into bed that night, anyway, and the light went out and I imagined her in her new room, on her own...