It was, in retrospect, completely mad. I still can’t believe they let me get away with it. In fairness to them, I didn’t really give them a choice: at the age of 17, I went to my parents and informed them that I had applied to several universities in Britain and none in France. If they wanted me to continue studying, they would have to let me cross the Channel a few months later. If they didn’t: to McDonald’s I’d go.
They were about as pleased with the choice as you’d imagine. Still, teenagers can sometimes be unstoppable forces, and I wasn’t to be messed with when I’d made up my mind. After a number of pleas, arguments and fruitless searches for a plan B, they let me do what I wanted to do. They let me leave Nantes, at 17 and three quarters, and move to London to start a degree in journalism.
I’m glad I won, obviously, but can now see why my parents struggled to let me go. I wasn’t even 18 yet! It was an entirely different country, with a different language! I didn’t know anyone there! I did become a legal adult within months of moving but, really, it took several more years for me to stop being a chaotic child.
For quite a long while, I ended up acting like one of those kittens or puppies that got separated from their mother too early, and doesn’t know how to behave as a result. I was still a very rough first draft by the time I left home, and there are so many ways in which things could have gone wrong.
The fact that I’m writing this today means that they didn’t, thankfully. If anything, I feel lucky and pleased that I got to build a life for myself from scratch, at such a young age. I behaved like a complete idiot for what felt like decades but, at the end of the day, I’d mostly calmed down before I’d even reached my mid-twenties.
My friends and peers were still partying till the small hours and consuming all sorts of not-so-legal substances, but I’d already packed all that in. I started early then got out early. I can still feel the ripples from my decision today: I may only be in my early thirties now but already feel that I’ve lived a lot, and have no great regrets when it comes to my misspent youth. I’ve been there, done that, got the t-shirt, thank you very much.
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Have I become British?
It’s also what worries me about all these kids staying at home for longer and longer. A recent study showed that, as of 2024, 30% of British 18-year-olds were planning to stay at home during their studies, up from 21% in 2015. For the avoidance of doubt, I don’t blame them, or at least don’t blame them all.
I’m sure many of them would rather fly the coop and spend three years in increasingly messy houseshares, but the cost of both housing and life in general is preventing them from doing so. Still, the results are the same. Instead of moving out as a teenager, a lot of today’s youths will be celebrating their entry into the roaring twenties while still living with mum and/or dad.
Hell, they may even decide to stay for a little while after graduation, as finding a job doesn’t always happen immediately, and it’s nice not to have to pay council tax. Twenty-one may turn into 22, then 23, 24 and… well, instinctively I just feel sorry for them. So much happened to me in those years: I did so much growing up, and learned the hard way that, when it comes to building the person you’re meant to become, there are no shortcuts.
What would have happened to me if I’d just stayed home for all those years? I doubt I’d be the same, and I doubt my life would have been as successful. Then again, perhaps I missed out on some things. I am, at time of writing, about to head to Rome for my mother’s 60th birthday.
I am looking forward to it, but still quite apprehensive; we’ve rarely spent extended periods of time together as adults. I’m sure it’ll go well, but that relationship, alongside the one I have with my father, feels like something we’ve all had to work on, nearly from scratch. They didn’t get to watch me finish growing up, and so we’ve had to rebuild our foundations bit by bit.
Would things have been different if I’d spent more time at home? Almost certainly. I have friends who stayed hidden in the nest for longer than I did, and they seem closer to their parents than I am to mine. There isn’t much I can do about the past, though, but that’s why this holiday, and others like it, matter so much to me. It’s never too late to mend the ties you once severed, because all you wanted was to feel free.
