Teenage jeans, so hard to beat.

So as of today I'm officially a sixth former. Spooooky, because for the last five years I have lived in knee-quaking FEAR of the sixth formers at Fulford School. In fact, I'm 97% sure that I should still be scared because there's still the year above to fear and I know that at least three of them want me dead.

Oh yes ladies and gentlemen, I'm in for a BILLBOARD time this year!

For what it's worth I'm quite liking sixth form so far. The teachers don't quite want to kill me so much, the crowd of younger years part when we walk through the corridors and did I mention that we get to eat ANY TIME WE WANT?!

Awesome.

Also some fantastic male specimens have been added to the year. Fabularse. But shhhh... I didn't say that.

What am I saying? I'm babbling.

Basically I'm loving sixth form, despite only having been there for half a day, only having half of the actual sixth form there and having done no work what so ever. My form tutor is a crazy, crazy man who can do things with a Rubik's cube that can make your eyes water and my head of house (yeah, Fulford's gone for the whole Hogwarts approach now) is none other than P. Daddy, my beloved ex-form tutor and all round good egg.

Life has never been so good.

Particularly now that I get to do rock climbing and origami as LESSONS.

Seriously, how effin' awesome is that? Whilst my sister gets tested in maths, I'll be forty feet in the air folding pieces of paper LIKE A PRO.

Now if you'll excuse me I have to go pack for a horrendous, Lycra-clad adventure I've been press ganged into going to next week.

That distant scream you'll inevitably hear next Wednesday? I fell down a waterfall.