There’s something special about spring in St Andrews. The town looks happier, and alongside the sun arriving for more than five minutes comes the sudden arrival of everyone’s parents. You can spot them from a mile away. They walk slowly. Look up at buildings. Take photos of literally everything and say things like, “You’re so lucky to study here,” while you’re thinking about the essay you haven’t started.
When my parents visited, I realised I wasn’t just showing them St Andrews. I was showing them a version of my life.
An edited version.
The St Andrews I Made Sure They Saw
First Stop: The Quad. The grass was dry and green (rare); It was sunny (rarer). And, I made it a point to casually stroll around the quad, as if I didn’t usually cut straight across it, trying not to be late.
Second Stop: West Sands. Because if the sea is looking blue, you make use of it. We grabbed lunch from Dook and sat on the sand, watching the dogs run around near the water.
Next, we headed up to the Scores. We walked along the castle and down towards the pier. I had asked my friend, who’s a student ambassador, to give them a mini-tour. They loved it. And I loved watching them love it.
We got my favourite matcha from Five Acres, and I showed them the buildings where I have most of my classes. I told them about societies, random events I’ve gone to, lectures I’ve actually enjoyed.
And I realised I do know this place now. I know which cafés are worth it. I know the quickest way across town when I’m late. I know how to deal with a 2,000-word deadline without panicking (too much).
And that felt reassuring.
The St Andrews I Kept to Myself
One thing I’m glad they missed was the wind, or at least the wind at its worst. They didn’t see North Street in December, when you regret leaving the house because it feels like the weather is pushing you back inside.
I also didn’t show them the morning after a big night out. When the streets are a bit of a mess: plastic cups on the pavement, takeaway boxes still lying around, and litter everywhere. Everyone looks exhausted and hungover. Those nights are chaotic and weirdly bonding. But they don’t translate well into a wholesome parent tour.
And I definitely didn’t explain the homesick parts. The moments when the town feels small, and you feel smaller. When you’re walking back late and, out of nowhere, you remember that home isn’t just a train ride away. When the sea looks beautiful, but also reminds you how far you are from everything familiar.
Why I Edited
The version I showed them wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the whole story.
St Andrews is beautiful. But, it’s also windy, overwhelming, and occasionally lonely.
Spring visited, and so did my parents. For a weekend, they saw the postcard, while we live behind the scenes.
And honestly? Both versions are real. I just didn’t need them worrying about the wind.