Standing on my own two feet . . . sort of

A Breaffy Man in Castlebar
Standing on my own two feet . . . sort of

I’ve flown the nest . . . again. I reckon this could be the last time though. Time for me, you might say. After all 29-years of age is an advanced enough age to be leaving home but each to their own. Some stay longer, others fly quicker. Everyone’s outlook at circumstances are their own.
It was ten years ago this September when I first took flight. College in Galway called and off I went with three equally green first years to Clifden Crescent near NUI Galway. Goodfellas pizzas were the house speciality along with an odd steak pilfered from the fridge at home.
I’m still reminded of my efforts at making tea for a group of visitors one evening. I reckoned there wouldn’t be enough from one kettle-full so I filled a big saucepan of water and tried to do it that way. My defence was I didn’t, and don’t, drink tea or coffee so the preparation of it was alien to me. It didn’t wash with those present. They made their own tea in the end. At least I was never asked again.
Bit by bit we started to chance new cuisine. Our world-wise second year house mate - or so he seemed to us - introduced us to the exotic world of pasta and oriental stir-fries and we thought we were the business. No longer were we the meat and two veg (or pepperoni pizza from the freezer) men from the wesht.
But the washing would be brought home most weekends for our mothers to slave over for the weekend and we were far from independent, despite the swagger in our walk.
Three years of college later and it was into the big, bad world of journalism. But, to ease myself into the real world, I stayed at home. My argument was a simple one. It was Celtic Tiger Ireland and there was no point ‘wasting money’ on rent. If you were moving out of home you should be looking to buy. That I never put so much as a Euro away for this ‘investment’ might suggest that I never had much intention of leaving home. But, as if to prove the doubters wrong, I flew the nest in spectacular form in 2007, jetting all of 12,000 miles to Australia. That was independent living, by sheer necessity.
Home nearly 12 months later, it was back to the nest. This time the argument was it made ‘financial sense’ for repaying for the good times in Oz. And then when I was on an even enough keel, the prospect of going back to college in September, 2010 meant there was little sense in renting in Mayo in the interim.
With college out of the way and back now in full-time employment, thankfully, there was only one thing for it - to move out and stand on my own two feet.
And we’ve been pretty exotic in our cuisine in our first weekend in the new pad. We’ve tried Italian, Chinese, Indian and Irish food. Okay, all have been takeaways but that’s because we haven’t been able to get the hobs going in the kitchen. Honest.