OT leaving home

Suitable exam passes triggered the process for me. One day life was in
Newcastle and then words from a teacher meant I was headed to London.

I did my own flat hunting over a very long day down in London and struck
lucky at the very last place I visited. And yes it was in Walthamstow.
Dad and I moved me down to London by train so I didn't have a huge
amount of possessions at that time. I recall walking up Walthamstow
Market that very first Saturday as clear as anything - I thought I'd
stumbled on to the Eastenders set.

I guess I was reasonably well house trained and could do all the
necessary chores - partly because home life was such that if I didn't do
it it didn't get done. Money was very tight but then we had silly things
called grants in those days and a got a small amount of money each week
from my Mum. I worked every holiday for four years (sandwich course) and
was never overdrawn until the end of my degree. Not sure if that's
possible these days but then I didn't live in the Union bar. I
maintained a very detailed record of expenditure and budgets and coupled
with my determination I think that's why I didn't have budgetary issues.
I think I'd recommend having a decent but relatively inaccessible
contingency fund these days - particularly given the cost of
accommodation and deposits and some bills. This is until some form of
good payment track record has been established.

I deliberately did not go home for a weekend visit for about 2½ months
which I think was the right thing to do because it forced to make a life
with a routine in London. I knew a few people so I was not without
friends and I think that's pretty important at that age (18) and being a
bit wet behind the ears. I did feel homesick when the train pulled
across the King Edward Bridge back to London after my first weekend
visit back to Newcastle (Nov 83 IIRC). I never took my laundry home to
be washed either!

I was initially in digs so lived with a young couple and this meant I
had to clean up and wash up so that established a domestic routine.
After a year I was back in Newcastle for 7 months doing the first bit of
my sandwich course then back to London in houses shared with friends.
That had it's good and bad moments - no surprise there then. It got
harder when I was later working and shared a house with people who were
still students. To say there was a clash of priorities was an
understatement - I resented having to clean up after them when they'd
done nothing all day and I'd been at work.

Can't think of anything that I know now that I wished I'd known then.
Nothing really went wrong and even if it had then the whole point is
that you learn how to deal with it rather than running back home.

Given your remarks in another post in the thread I would be careful
about being too clingy with your son. You obviously love him a great
deal but you must be able to cut the apron strings. My Mum didn't do
that and it made it almost impossible to go back home because I knew
what emotional pressure there would be and to be frank I just didn't
need it as I had my own life by then.

 

On Sat, 23 Jun 2007 14:59:42 +0100, Paul Corfield

snip>

I can remember my mother getting tearful at Heathrow when I went
though departures as I departed on my 'big adventure'.

I came home for a holiday after a year and when I flew back she was
told she couldn't come to the airport because she was an
embarrassment. Luckily for her I was talked out of it (she either came
along and I got a lift or I used public transport) and she had the
opportunity to make sure I really was going and it wasn't some kind of
a sick joke.

I reckon I had maybe 10 separate days in the first year when I wasn't
convinced I'd been entirely sensible in leaving the country but decent
wages soon persuaded me that going back to an early eighties England
wouldn't be a good idea.

 

Mum and dad were constantly arguing, so I simply left one Saturday evening
and stayed with a mate and his family for a fortnight or so (We were both
about 19) before my name came up and I got a council flat almost straight
away. Stayed there for a couple of years, during which it was revealed that
dad had been a right bastard, seeing women etc and had decided to go to one
of them. 'cept he didn't just go, he came home, went again, cam home, went
again etc. Which all put mum in the psychiatric ward, electric shock
treatment and such-like (1978 ish) So I went to mums house again to look
after her. Stayed until about 1984 when I left to go to Nottingham and
Trent Poly ...

The rest is a bit tangled ...

 

I was kicked out at about 16. I'd been living at home whilst not
attending the college I was supposed to. Making some cash in the local
pub and spending it in the local pub. Mates called me at the pub
before they tried my mobile of home phone.

That night I kipped on a friends sofa, and the same the following
night by which time I had found a fifty quid a week room to rent. I
borrowed the first 250 from my dad and then set about to get a job.
within 2 days I'd lined up a role washing up in a cafe - it was grim,
but it paid for the roof over my head.

I grew up very, very fast. Ensured that I paid the rent on time and
anything else was game on.

Credit cards are to be steered clear of. To expect unexpected bills.
Friends that you party with don't necessarily make the best
housemates.

A friend, and that didn't work out for too long, so I found a random
"room to rent" in the local paper, that was close to work so I could
walk.

It was the best thing my Mum could have done for me, and set me up for
the rest of my life to date, despite never completing college, A
levels or Uni. I have a good job, earn decent money, house, car,
bikes, toys, woman, get to travel etc. I've never looked back and have
no regrets about it - only the heartache I must have caused to trigger
that day.

 

Lady Nina wrote:

[moving out]

I could heat things up, and operate a toaster. To be honest that's all
the skill somebody in their teens or early 20's needs, sitting down to a
proper meal isn't high on the list of priorities.

 

I always liked that there's a Clowne College. It's like a step up from
clown school.

 

Not only that, but a number of large employers won't look at you unless
you have a certain standard in both your degree and a-levels.

 

Never mind all that shit, he has volunteered, help him pack his bags and
kick him out now before he changes his mind.

And if it is any help I was taken away from hearth and home by a burd
with what others considered an unreasonably healthy sexual appetite.

 

Surely properly cooked meals are what families and restaurants are
for?

 

Well, yes.

I seem to recall bags of rice, tinned chilli, bacon, and cheap white
bread were pretty much my staple diet for the first 18 months.

 

www.slavemarketprices.com

Only sell at peak.
--
Dave
GS850x2 XS650 SE6a

Teach a man to fish and he and his pikey mates will have the
river cleaned out in a day.

 

I've certainly heard of big corporates wanting a certain number of UCAS
points for graduate programmes - I did General Studies which generally
required no studying and bumps things up, should I want to work for a bunch
of lizards. OTOH, a hell of a lot of people aren't especially interested in
anything other than what you got for your degree.

 

Impulsive, at the age of 17. Moved out, dropped out of crammer college,
got kicked out of my job, ran out of money, got kicked out of flat.
Moved back. All within the space of about 9 months.

What I wish I'd known?

1. Cooking's a fucking pain.
2. Landlords get pissed off when you rebuild a motorcycle engine in the
kitchen (for some strange reason).
3. Clothing doesn't wash itself.
4. Food costs money!
5. Electricity and Gas costs money.
6. Don't encourage friends to crash because whilst it's fun having a
party every night when you find that your bedroom is engaged (so you
can't crash), that your food has been eaten and your booze has been
drunk it's not so fine and dandy.
7. Some of the 'friends' will end up squatting in your flat, or at least
that's how it will feel.

 

This rings an alarm bell. It's what I did with the greatest of
intentions but the instinct to 'party' was too strong. I ended up
dropping out of my A Levels and then studying part time from the age of
25 to 32 to make up for my lack of A levels/degree. *not* recommended.

Absolutely.

 

On Sat, 23 Jun 2007 14:13:51 +0100, Andy Bonwick

I think (because we still haven't fully discussed it yet) that it's
moving in with his g/f and a couple of mates.

Or mine, you just exchange one set of parental units for another.

You lost a footnote.

She's at her dad's atm so doesn't know anything about it. Given she's
spent the last year telling him he can move out now he's 16 I bet
she'll be over joyed and changing the locks.

 

He's a lazy sod, coasting on his intelligence and not doing the work.

I know he has to work this out for himself.

Pretty much what I did, I didn't go straight to uni.

So did I.

Agreed. I should stop worrying.

 

Send the lads round to have a word...

*ding* **** knows where this maternal stuff has appeared from, I
should just kick him out and let him get on with it

 

I was going to suggest that I don't think he's shagging his mates
mother but his sister isn't so certain.

 

Yes, If there have been any disasters I've not heard about them and
the two of them have an open invite to come back here if it all goes
pear shaped.

But, but I'm going to rent the room out 5 minutes after he goes...

snip

Realising there isn't a washing fairy may be a shock.

Check the label in your clothes, it usually has age range.

This is good. So, are there any naked pictures of you on the internet?

He's doing cold calling on the phone for his part time job and I
remind him that if he fucks up his exams then he'll be stuck doing
this or similar for years <evil grin>

 

Well as I typed it I was thinking you aren't really the Mum sort ;o)