University's out, which is a good thing, especially considering the unmitigated disaster our year-long project turned into. Exams are on the cards for the next term, too, so I decided to take the liberty to go home and try to relax for a while before I exploded with all the pent-up stress.

Things got off to a flying start when, after being met at the station and subsequently treated to my sister's rollercoaster-style school of driving, I was greeted at home by Sharon Osbourne.

Well, that's what I thought at first. It transpired that for some bizarre reason my mother had decided to buy herself a wig, apparently to see what she'd look like in a different colour without having to resort to hair dye. Astonishingly, she looked rather good in it.
Still, having such a shock wasn't what I had in mind when coming home to unwind, so I got my own back by running over to the local drugstore in secret and buying a pack of deep red hair dye.
The result was perfect. Indoors and out of the light, it didn't look much different to my normal hair colour. When I stepped outdoors into the sun, however...

I don't believe I've ever seen an expression that could so accurately convey the word 'flabbergasted'.

Hair-related antics aside, I took the opportunity to try and have a proper walk around my neighbourhood for the first time in years. It was a somewhat surreal experience- the place was mostly the same as it was when I still lived there.
The few details that had changed seemed somewhat jarring. It was very much like dreaming of a familiar place- the overall shape and structure remains the same, but juxtaposed against the familiar hide little pieces that just seem outright alien.
The newsagent's I used to visit every weekend, for example, had vanished and been replaced by a music shop- not the type that sells CDs, the type that actually sells instruments. By contrast, the dress shop next to it looked the same as it did ten years ago.
Walking up the road back home, looking at the tiers of residences built on the hillside offered a glimpse of what must have been the result of someone deciding their garden needed remodelling- a large glass conservatory shone brightly in the sunlight. This, however, wasn't the most bizarre thing about it- they had also built up the wall at the end of their garden (which, due to the slope of the hill was built with their garage underneath, opening into a road which couldn't be seen from my angle) and painted the entire thing white.
The resultant glass construction, fronted by a high wall with the garage door at the bottom looked somewhat like a cross between a small garden centre and a scale model of Camelot. Surely, those must have been the most well-fortified tomatoes in all of Britain. If the Triffids ever attack the town, I'll know where to hide.

Seeing what had changed compared with what hadn't was quite surreal. The primary school I used to go to had changed a lot- hedges had been planted over parts the playing field, extra buildings and apparatus had sprouted from the area, and rather wicked-looking high metal fences were now jutting out of the ground, surrounding the classrooms. I idly wondered whether it was to protect the children from the general public or vice versa.
By contrast, the nursery school I used to attend... good grief, it must be going on over 15 years ago now (I feel so old!) hadn't changed, even one bit. The fading paintwork on the building was still as it always was, and I was fairly sure the sandpit and slides were the same ones.

Funny, that.

Anyone else had similarly surreal experiences visiting places they used to know?