Well, I guess there rarely was sunshine in overcast Oxford, but when I’m old and grey, my time on exchange is definitely going to be looked upon as one of the greatest experiences of my life. That doesn’t mean that the entire time will be a series of magical experiences, that there won’t be down times.

The weekend just passed was one of the down times.

On Friday, I was already feeling a bit grim – I was suffering through the second cold I had caught over here, uni work was starting to stress me out and homesickness had reared its head. An afternoon spent with two good friends, and sending some letters home had made me feel better – until I returned to my flat and opened my bedroom door.

I discovered my window was wide open – definitely not how I left it. Confused I looked around the rest of my room. It was ransacked. All my draws and cupboard doors were open, their contents strewn across the ground. The realisation set in that something wasn’t right as I looked to where I left my brand new, lovely SLR camera and saw an empty space. Someone had been in here. The panic hit. Breathing got hard as I shut my window, and ran, half-sobbing into the hall office.

I was met by a group of people who all turned to the crazy-eyed, crying Australian as she declared her room had been broken into. Luckily, the warden was lovely. The police were called and a cup of tea was made. I started to calm down and when the police arrived I was able to go back to the room and recount everything that was missing: my camera, my iPad, my phone charger, some cash and a handbag (with nothing in it, thankfully).

The police told me not to touch anything until the CSI (literally – they called it CSI) team had come round. I felt very alienated as I got the essentials out with rubber gloves on my hands. I was placed in one of the spare rooms in my flat, given some bedding and lent a phone charger.

How could I sleep there though? None of my flatmates were home. I didn’t know if I could sleep at all.

I think this experience has made me realise how important it is to ask for help, and that people are usually will to give it. One of my good friends came down to help calm me down and another offered for me to stay at hers the night (an offer I gladly accepted – along with a much needed beer). The concern when people heard about the break in and their offerings of help made me realise that I have made some great connections here already. The silver lining to a grey weekend.

The rest of the weekend was spent talking to police and having them take fingerprints. I could have moved back into my room on Sunday, but I can’t shake the feeling that my space has been violated – someone has been in there are through all my stuff. It is not so much that my stuff is gone – insurance will cover it. There is just a weird vibe and it doesn’t feel like my own space anymore. I decided to stay in the room across the hall and have requested to move to a room on a higher level.

I have not slept much this week. I know it’s ridiculous, but I still freak out even the slightest sound. I’m still okay and I’m sure I will get over it soon. Now it’s time for an amazing weekend in Amsterdam!