I love St Andrews, I really do. Our little town has its quirks and can seem strange to outsiders, but over my time here I have become very fond of our little slice of Fife and have come to think of it as a second home. But, every now and again, I love going home and getting a bit of parental pampering. I’m from Lancashire (north west of England) so home is only a 5 hour train journey away and last weekend I thought I’d go and surprise my mum by turning up on the door step on a rainy Friday evening. I like to think that having her only daughter home for the weekend was a lovely surprise, but since the first words out of her mouth were “Oh God, what am I going to feed you?” (I’m coeliac and mostly vegetarian AKA a cook’s nightmare) I wasn’t really feeling the homely vibes. Nonetheless, mother dearest rushed around whipping up a delicious meal, with the words “I’m sorry sweetheart, this is all I have, I hope it’s OK”. It was better than if I’d spent a whole day cooking with Tesco’s Finest. How do mums do that? Is it something we’re supposed to just pick up? I feel sorry for any future children I may have.
But I hadn’t just gone home for the free food (honest…) and the next day was spent with me, my brother and mum and dad trolling around the Lake District hills getting wet, muddy and lost, i.e. a normal Stanfield family day out. We then went and chose a Christmas tree. Yes, a Christmas tree. In October. Another family tradition is to go to a local family friend who has a plot of Christmas trees and put a label on the best, in order to claim it for when December rolls around. This inevitably results in arguments over which tree to choose, with me and my brother hitting each other (he started it).
I returned to St Andrews on Sunday feeling refreshed and ready to work hard (a feeling which ended at approximately 9.30 am on Monday morning). Some of the best weekend breaks are simply returning back to the nest for a bit of family time.