1992

1992 was the first, and last, time since 1987 that I spent a whole year living at home. I would return to Egham/Staines briefly twice, and go on a publishing course at Exeter, as well as the regular visits to relatives in Biddulph and Croydon, but as far as where I lived was concerned, it was Peterborough for the entire year. I'd returned from university, successful in getting a 2:1 in my degree, a failure in giving up a Master's course that had felt more like going back to A Level, than the research-based studies of my final year at Royal Holloway. Peterborough was welcoming - my parents and our cat lived at home, my sister and her fiance nearby, and 1992 was a good year for being around them all. It was also, of course, a year of trying to get work - from going back to my uni for the Easter vacation to work in halls, to getting a job in The Lord Westwood pub, to working at Flag Fen Archaeological Dig, but at the same time all well-paying permanent job applications failing. It was a year of decent socialising, from family outings to pubs, such as quizes at the Botolph Arms, to hanging out with my sister and her fiance, for example in the Prince of Wales pub, to Dungeons and Dragons with him and his friends, to the final Foresters camping I ever did, at Sacrewell Farm that Summer. It was perhaps a year of transition, moving away from university, but at the same time trying to plot a future course away from home.