Cutting the umbilical chord

Looking back at the first day of my first year it all seems a little weird. Mum and Dad helped me to move my stuff into my halls of residence. Then I said a quick "hi" to the people I would live with. None looked like Freddie Krueger-type serial killers that I had been dreading since results day. But then again, on the film Scream the killers looked just like you and me, so my nerves stuck around for a little while longer.

My parents know me well enough after 18 years that they would have been able to guess all my inner-most thoughts. They convinced me that I did want to do a degree instead of working in my corner shop forever, as I was threatening. Looking back I'm glad, because during the next week at uni I had so much fun that I'm ashamed to say I hardly thought about home once.

I did speak to my parents a little during those first seven days, but usually they had to call me. I kept them updated with a censored version of events, and on who was my new best friend that day. It was great to be able share it all and I always liked it when they called.

After that initial week the contact with home did increase. On some weeks, I would even phone home more than they would call me. Email was a great lifeline too. At least that way you can avoid answering any of the questions you don't like the look of!

I was apprehensive about cooking for myself every day. My lectures and essays were going to be the easy bit as far as I was concerned. This became even more scary when I stepped into my kitchen. It was pretty big, really clean, had a fair amount of storage and two large fridge-freezers. All good I hear you say, but here I must add that there was one cooker – one four-ringed cooker – for 13 students to cook on three times a day. As surprising as this may seem, this actually isn't a breach of human rights. We are still waiting on a letter from Kofi Annan in response to our petition.

I didn't have too many disasters but one of my friends did discover the reason for use-by dates on food, and unfortunately she discovered the hard way. She didn't leave her bed for two days. Well that's one way to get out of lectures.

Doing laundry the first time was awful. I managed to pick the washing machine which everyone quickly learns doesn't drain properly. So my first load of laundry still wouldn't dry after an hour in the tumble dryer and with all my 20 pence pieces used, it had to spend the next four days draped over every surface in my bedroom. What I didn't consider at the time was that the mildew smell would hang around until Christmas. But I quickly learnt the tricks of the laundry room. Indeed, I have the mismatched socks to prove it. Also, one quick bit of advice: never leave your clothes alone in the launderette. There really isn't anything that a student won't steal.

Coming home for weekends and holidays is great. You get spoiled rotten. Your laundry is done, your food is on the table, the phone is free, and it's fantastic. But I do feel bad occasionally for treating my house like a hotel. Being used to the independence of living alone, it is hard to remember that getting up after your parents have gone to work and getting in after they are in bed doesn't help to maintain a loving relationship. But notes left strategically around the house come in handy in these situations.

My parents do come and visit me sometimes. They have witnessed the empty vodka bottle collection and the mile-high washing-up pile – and they have been completely cool with it. I do think it's hard for my mum to fight the urge to clean sometimes, but she bites her tongue. After all, I'm the one who lives in the mess. They would help me to scrub off the green mould if I asked, or help me with anything in life, but it is now up to me. At least thanks to them I am equipped with my own scrubbing brush.

Everyone has their bad times at university, when they need a shoulder to cry on or someone to moan to. This is when we become little kids again and get on the phone. As a child it is hard to imagine that your parents have a life of their own when you aren't there.

Because I'm the youngest child in my family, I guess my parents' lives have changed more this time around than when my sister moved out, but they've probably coped a little better the second time. They now know what to expect. So whether you are an only child or one of five, your folks are still going to need to do some adjusting. Their nest is empty; they must fill their time somehow and you must understand this. The student's role is to allow their parents a life of their own, while the parents must hold up their end of the bargain and carry a mobile!

My parents are fabulous. They even came to university to get me one night when I was down. I sometimes call my mum simply to ask what I should have for tea (deciding between beans on toast and spaghetti hoops can often be too taxing after a day of lectures).

They are always there to help, but at the same time encourage me to be as independent and responsible as possible. I'll always be their little girl, but I'm sure they wouldn't be too happy if their little girl was still living with them at the age of 47 and still working in the corner shop.