Enfin

"Oh.My.God. This is serious trauma. I'm not going to leave on Friday. You'll have to drag me out!"
- Sophie, evidently not dealing with the concept of actually having to leave school very well.

But in some ways, she is right. I have been overtaken by a bizarre feeling of sentimentality and nostaligia, much removed from my usual, hard-nosed self. But people are leaving! After five years, people are actually leaving! And reading all their names and messages in my yearbook (yes, I succumbed) make it all the more real. No more compulsory education for me!

Except, of course, for my chosen career I will have to endure yet more years of teaching torment - so the end of compulsory education means nothing. Not a thing. Except no more art (trauma) and no more maths (pure, unadulterated joy).

I am, however, still waiting for a yearbook message from Ben. Honestly, I don't know why he is finding this so difficult: he merely needs to mention how fabulous I am, and how I've taught him everything he knows about cricket (not much, but it's a start; he'll be loving it by the time we go to uni, I promise). And that is all I want. It's not like I'm not going to see him again after Friday. Unless, of course, something goes drastically wrong. Touch wood, of course. Or I miraculously become a high-flying journalist by then...

Which leads me on to my fabulous mentor Deborah, who is actually helping me, as opposed to sitting in a big black swivelling chair telling me I'm not up to scratch. Naturally, the pessimist in me was expecting just that nightmare scenario.

But anyway, Tasha may be joining a cult in Home and Away. So I'd better go an find out.