I'm going to be honest, via the charity of my parents allowing me to discover what I wanted to do, and then spend years training and working towards it on a low/no salary through the time assured method of living at home - I didn't move out until I was 26.
When I finally did, it was in to a place in East London with two of my long serving/suffering friends. The whole process of moving in was strangely fun, with our first visit to IKEA feeling like we were a little family. I distinctly recall the first night we moved in, around 3am we ordered a Pizza and sat in our almost empty living room eating it.
Glorious Freedom.
Ego Prevails.
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