A weekend by oneself

It's funny, but when I look back at the four years I spent at university in St Andrews and think about what I did on the weekends, I very rarely remember myself being bored. Obviously we had no lectures on the weekends, and I can't imagine I spent very much time studying - I certainly never went to the library - so what did I do?

I remember that Friday nights were spent pre-gaming and then bopping with my friends, either from shinty or from physics. Saturday mornings were about the lie-in, before I trudged over to Tesco to get some much needed hangover food. But then what of the rest of the weekend? I'm not a big Saturday night partyer, so I'm pretty sure I spent those at home or maybe a friend's house. I did have some pretty awesome flatmates to hang out with back then.

But the point of this isn't a trip down memory lane. Since I've started my Ph.D and moved to Preston - a substantially bigger town - I've found the weekends very difficult. I'm no stranger to my own company but I find myself quite boring to be around for long periods of time. It hasn't been so bad lately: living with boyfriend means I've always got someone to talk to and do things with. But this weekend in particular has been super difficult because boyfriend went to France for four days.

In some ways I've had fun. Slobbing around the house has been great, and not having to cook for anyone. But after an hour or two that gets sooo boring: finding ways to entertain myself is very difficult. I've done house work and laundry, cooked myself two big meals, painted and played my DS, watched hours and hours of television and that doesn't even begin to take up the whole day. I contemplated leaving the house, but walking for half an hour in the rain doesn't really appeal to me. The sad truth is that I resorted to doing work, and Monday is looked forward to.

Comments