School daze ...

You can't really blame me, what with that missing boot and a pair of odd socks grabbed in the midst of said hurry.

But still, my green jacket led loyally on the chair, where I'd dumped it last.

Which was probably, what, two whole months ago now? Possibly more?

Because the summer is here. Well, it was. And due to the heat and long-awaited sun, my jacket remained alone and unwanted.

And yes, with it still being August, the sun may still be peering out from the clouds and the usual rain may have left us alone for a short while (if anyone dares do a raindance I swear I'll hunt you down. Remember that 'fish-list' of mine? Yes? Good.) but there's a peculiar, yet ever so familiar, breeze whipping through the air which tells me that one thing's for certain.

It's almost time to go back to school.

'Argh!' I hear the youngsters protest, faced with the thought of giving up those late nights and midweek cinema trips.

'Rejoice!' say the parents. You know how it goes.

I don't know about you, but there's that specific feeling I experience around this time of year. There's a distinct chill in the wayward air that reminds me of brand-new backpacks and the joy of writing one's name on a pristine exercise book. Call me sad if you will, but I loved going back to school; that giddy feeling coupled with immense nervousness was one I always loved to hate.

However, there's one thing about this time of year.

Panic!

And not at the disco this time. I'm talking shoe stores. I'm talking queues at the school uniform shop.

I'm talking a great boost for retail, but a frantic rush from one end of town to the other for poor parents, marching down the High Street laden with a variety of bags and tired eyes.

Back to school shopping can be a real chore. Making my way through town this afternoon, dodging the bored-faced youngsters who have obviously tried on one school shoe too many, I remembered the situation vividly.

I remember having my eye on certain bags, visiting numerous shoe stores with my younger sisters and each picking out just the right pair. I remember the bustling of crowded shops full of teenagers giving orders of, 'I want THAT coat!' and parents rushing to the season's most stylish item with their credit cards as though they'd just spotted the Holy Grail.

I recall lots of stationery (and being a stationery addict to this day, that's still a big tradition of mine.) Sure, being in uni now there's not that pressure of having to make an impression with a glam new kit but hey, do you THINK for one second I'm setting foot up there with the same folder as I had LAST year?! Pfft, I think not!

Which goes to show why my office is, in fact, full of folders.

In any case, the prospect of a whole new school uniform is rather fun, even if you ARE totally aware that it's going to be covered in mud, raspberry-flavoured pop and chewing gum just two weeks down the line. September comes and the bubbly bit kicks in; the excitement of seeing your friends, showing off accomplishments of the past holiday, usually in the form of a hip new hairdo or a piercing.

And then, just a couple of weeks later, the schedule would kick in. Cue a quickly worn-out novelty; books sticky and ruined after a bag spillage and/or explosion of aforementioned raspberry pop. Scuffed shoes. And of course, the favourite line of, 'Whoops! I seem to have forgotten my games kit! Whatever shall I do?' Of course, in my school the PE teachers soon grew wise to that overused line and, grinning, quickly presented us with a cupboard full of manky old kits that obviously hadn't been washed in God knows how many years and were practically stale. I swear, some were even HARD in the armpit area of those yellowed shirts. Add the horror of THOSE to a bag full of equally disgusting old trainers which could have been harvesting the Black Death for all you knew, and guess what?

Nobody 'forgot' their games kit again. Ever.

I'll be brutally honest here. I don't miss school. But I DO love that back-to-school feeling. I'm already looking forward to uni, and September with its winter breeze and excuse to dig out my favourite winter coat.

The downsides? Waiting in icy train stations for the Valleylines service bound for Treherbert.

Picking up circulating colds which unfortunately, I'm prone to. The University of Glamorgan's hilly location. Said my friend Kevin last week, 'Glamorgan has two directions. Up and down.' Which means that I too will be ridding my feet of the cute heeled boots in favour of the sensible Doc Martens. Why? Because heels are a death trap. Trust me, there's a reason why they're labelled 'killer heels' and it has nothing to do with sexiness in my books.

The summer isn't entirely over yet, and I for one am going to use the rest of it wisely. Like catching up with the reading and study I've cast aside to play World of Warcraft during my lazy afternoons.

Stupid, stupid procrastinating me.

But hey, there's plenty of time for work, right?