It is the early hours of the morning and I am sitting watching Glastonbury coverage, the bright stobe lighting of the stage reflecting on my face as I sit hunched on the chair close to the tv. The Killers are headlining. I hit the volume up. The sound of Mr Brightside fills the room.


Somehow, unlike yesterday's coverage, I don't feel like jumping up and down on the sofa. Instead part of me is transported back to four years ago. The first year of uni. I am in Snobs, which in first year was a regular occurrence. Mr Brightside is blasting out and I am on the dancefloor singing at the top of my voice.


Then we all troop back to Manor House. I walk into the bathroom and try and walk in a straight line along the kitchen tiles in an attempt to use this as a measure of how drunk I am.

The applause of the Glastonbury crowd eminating from the tv snaps me back to reality. I am here and it's now. And right now, it is the end of an era. Almost everyone has moved out, some of whom I have lived with for four years, I have walked into their room and collapsed on their bed when I was sad, burst into their room when I'm happy, sat outside their room and read from the tv listings because it amused me to wind them up, run around Manor with someone else's keys because at the time it seemed like a good idea, with who I've spent many hours putting the world to rights over many cups of tea and the odd chocolate biscuit. The people that in four days time I can no longer call my housemates.
It's not the same. Somehow saying that doesn't sum up those four years. It doesn't even come close. It's going to be like in Friends when all the keys get put on the side. Part of me is sad that this era is ending and I think it's that same part that is actually quite scared for the next era.

Labels: 96, birmingham, thoughts