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Dear Mum and Dad…

A third-year student sends a letter to her parents to smooth the way for her return home this summer
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Parents can find it hard to get the message that their children have become adults. Photograph: Graham Turner

We last co-habited properly three years ago, when I was coming out of my teenage tunnel. You liked to joke that the only way you could communicate with me was by 'tapping on the walls'.

I'm out of the other side of said tunnel now though, so please, treat me accordingly.

You don't have to tiptoe around me, I am a fully functioning adult who can maintain a conversation on things like government funding and the rising price of petrol.

I'm a rational human being, having cooked, cleaned, washed, ironed and fed myself for approximately 32 months. That means, please don't call me when I'm home alone to remind me to turn the oven off, or make sure the back door is locked.

I've been living in a crime-riddled student town, so my awareness of burglars is probably far higher than yours. If my room isn't as tidy as it was when I was away, please remember that I am now inhabiting it, so try and lay off.

I don't like it when you tell me how many bills you have to pay. I'm aware of this, and I'm sorry I can't be of more help. But once again, please remember that I know what NPower is, because until recently I had my own direct debit with them.

In fact, I was responsible not just for making sure I paid my bills on time, but that my five profligate housemates did. So don't tell me to be conservative with the hot water – I've been swaddled in blankets for the last two winters. I know about saving money and will certainly keep applying my well-honed knowledge.

When I left, I was six months into being a legal drinker. I would come home and be sick from the alcohol I'd probably filched from your own stash. I'm now seasoned and sensible (most of the time), so when I go to the pub, don't fret. I can't afford more than two pints any way.

Also, please don't ask me whom I'm going out with and what time I'm coming home. You know all of my friends by now, and the pubs close at 11. If I'm home any later, remember that I'm 21, and this is normal.

Be rational and I'll be reasonable. I'm also too old to be targeted by paedophiles, so you can cross those off your list of people to worry about.

I know it's been a while, but you must remember living with friends? It's still all too fresh in my mind. The blissful freedom, the excellent transport connections – and being surrounded by the most diverse people I've ever met. Moving back to suburbia is as big a shock to me as moving out was in the first place.

I hate having to ask you for lifts, and I don't like bumping into my teachers in Sainsbury's, so I hope you don't think I'm taking you for granted. I get a little bit claustrophobic, so bear with me, and I'll bear with you. Fingers crossed this will just be temporary.

Love, your daughter, who has matured hugely in the last three years.

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