...And then I returned to Exeter.

And so eight months after Graduation I returned to the wonderful city that was my home for three years.

I managed to get myself and Brian lost. Twice. Then I wrapped him around a well hidden and utterly pointless bollard.
Complete with scratched paintwork and a sizeable dent he's looking a little more butch. Perhaps.

I didn't really see much of the city that I miss so much. I briefly sped (being the operative word) past the regular haunt of the residents of Number 10 Longbrook Terrace. The Firehouse. It should be listed as number one of the list of things to do in the West Country - if only for its cheap wine and huge bargain pizzas. Just to fill those late night munchies don't you know...

Drove past my department where I spent most of my days, and 'The Impy' opposite where I spent the rest - Oh the pimms memories, or lack of.
Summers spent wasting away in the sunshine of the beer garden when you actually intended to have a productive group planning session for that all important presentation.

Exeter doesn't quite have the same 'homely' feel when you know absolutely no one in the city, and for the first time ever you've completely lost all sense of direction and end up driving the longest route across the city at rush hour, throwing expletives at anyone and everything.
I'm usually a very calm driver. But that's only before I plough my 4 wheeled engine into things. As I keep telling my friends though, in hope to reclaim the smallest shred of my driving credibility "At least I don't hit moving things".

A friend organises an annual networking event and I was invited back to share my knowledge and experience with fresh young students, disgustingly unaffected by the real world and skepticism. Oh how I miss that beautiful bubble.

I met a lot of very interesting people. Who knew a lot of very interesting things. They were happy to share this very interesting information with a very keen bean. I think I helped some students, at least I hope I helped. If I put them off then I doubt I’ll be invited back. Which for Brian might be good news.

Aside from the extortionate cost of fuel, a rant that I shall not begin, getting lost, eating a ruddy awful breakfast that tasted like rubber egg, plastic sausage and stale muffin from a restaurant with glowing golden arches, and leaving Exeter at 4.30am without my morning caffeine fix (the kettle in my hotel room sounded like it was going to explode), unshowered and bleary eyed, I made it into work with a wealth of contacts and information to help me on my way.

People who know people, know people.


And now, having wrapped my car in bubble wrap and tying pillows to the bumpers, I am off to Kingston town to meet my housemates from that bubble we call Uni.  I will have to park somewhere.

Wish Brian luck.