Not a stoodent any more

The nice thing about going back to the town you lived in when you were a student is that you can now afford the things you never could before. Like finally having dinner at its only Italian restaurant. I used to treat myself to their gelato -- which wasn't often but unsuitable weather had more to do with it than prices -- but never ventured into the cave-like posh-looking restaurant (Etna, opposite the HMV, next to the post office -- information for YH, whom I'm sure has question marks above his head already).

This time, we could sit down to a three-course meal plus wine. And because one of our party had a birthday, the staff accommodated with candles in the tiramisu and a happy birthday song -- in which the other diners also joined. That really took me by surprise. This isn't Hard Rock Cafe where people are expected to break into song and dance. So much for the reticent British.

Not being a student also means there's no ISIC card to wave about for massive discounts.

But not being a (homeless) student also means that I can finally buy the beautiful handcrafted homeware I've always coveted (like these coasters). Which also partly accounted for the need to buy a new piece of luggage the day before we left for home.