diaspora of the goodsells

I love my independence; these last two years at university have granted me more freedom than ever. The freedom to come and go as I please; to scoot over to the library; to go to the pub with my mates ad win the pub quiz; to stay up till nigh on midnight reading; to go to Chester to see my friends band (if your reading this, charlotte, when should I come again?); to go to discos dressed as a fairy; to hang around campus in a skirt; to do a billion things I previously thought impossible.

Yet while I love all this, I also feel the need to go home. I am, now , my own man, with agency, but I am also a son and a brother. In short I feel the need to collect the Diaspora of the goodsells: I want to sit again around the kitchen table drinking proper beer while both my brothers take the piss out of me and the I call physics a waste of time! I want to hug mum and dad. I want my father to read to me again.

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