The funny thing about being a university student is “going home”. It’s generally a defining factor in a student; some people commute to university from home, some go back every weekend and some will stay at university for months on end without even a call home.
Me? I’m option number three. In first year I leaned massively on the whole “home sickness” plea when my attendence hit 33% but in all honesty it was just laziness. I never missed home except for a couple of times where I wished for some countryside. Sometimes, yes, I would realise I wasn’t going home for nine weeks and feel down but that would be momentary. In all honesty, I don’t feel at home at home anymore, even my mum asks me when I’m going home when I come over to visit.
However, I do know the opposite. I know many people who commute in and live with their families. One friend insisted she wanted to live with me on campus for third year, we’d both be studying the same course and it’d be would to have the library at such close range. In the end it came down to the fact her mum didn’t want her to move out. Another friend lived on campus during her first year, in fact she was one of my first year flat mates, but she didn’t enjoy it and it was ultimately cheaper to live at home. But for me, I couldn’t say they get to enjoy an all round university experience. I mean, ok, so many people would argue that university isn’t all about drinking and partying, but I live here and I struggle to build up proper friendships with people I see every day.
Though for my masters I was considering moving to Manchester with my friends who are graduating and commuting to Preston. I guess both sides have its perks.