29 April 2016, 8 am
Back at Studentville, we wrap our left-over leftovers in freezer bags and distribute them between us. I find space on the drying rack for another load of laundry. The other two look quizzically at their duvets, aware that there may be a Process for dealing with a bed after you have slept in it, and that this Process might in some way be a precursor to bits of the bed ending up on a drying rack smelling of flowers and chemicals. I am in too much of a rush to explain the Process to them; I am busy trying to get my laptop out of its cling film. Still, by 8.30 the flat looks completely un-student-like (ie tidy). We have not even succeeded in getting the milk to curdle. If our spouses were to drop by now, they would hardly know what squalor we have lived in for the last 48 hours – although they might wonder about the fruit cake crumbs. (Clearly, I cannot wield the vacuum cleaner without appearing to be a sexist collaborator, and the other two can’t because they daren’t risk another of my “how-to” presentations.) We head off in our separate directions, to be patent attorneys again and not students, or in one case to look after Vestal Virgins for the weekend. I have a bit of a headache, from all the confidence sharing last night, but I have been for a run and I have a rucksack full of fruit cake and cheese, which M&S® assures me are useable as lunch. Also a brain full of unprocessed, oak-panelled tittle-tattle. And less than two weeks before I can stop pretending to be the CIPA Pee. It was nice to be a student again for a couple of days, but I am glad to be going home. Smiling, I hand the train manager my ticket and leave him to unwrap the cling film.
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