Diary of a Sixth Former

Dear Diary...

August 3rd.

Summer… hah! Today has been a day riddled with disappointment, in the same way it’s not nice to be riddled with herpes. Not that I would know, Russell Howard said it so it has to be true and we all know he is basically comedy's answer to Wikipedia. Upon meeting Charlie for football this afternoon, I’d noticed that the air freshener tree in my car was no longer providing freshness of any kind. I’ve only had the car two months and already I find myself utterly stressed to have to deal with these problems. Frankly, I’m not sure a tree is a great idea for an air freshener anyway. The last tree I smelt had a rather iffy whiff of some form of pee although it’s not in my interest to truly discover whether that was the urination of an animal or human. Nevertheless, I digress from this absurd day. This crushing shock was further compounded on just an hour ago when I realised for the first time that the desks on University Challenge aren’t actually on top of each other but merely an effect on the television. Life shouldn’t be changed so dramatically like this - I’m not sure I can look at Jeremy Paxman the same way ever again. Shame on you, clever students.

August 5th

It’s a bit peculiar how I miss the sixth form common room. Right now I am a traitor to the notion of the summer holidays with my love of that room. Walking past the school all locked up today it hit me how many firsts have taken place in that special container of magic, conversation and damp chairs. That room was the first time I successfully hid from Mr Thomas. It was also the first time I managed to successfully copy Jane’s Civil War work without her realising due to the impossible nature of juggling coursework and WhatsApp at the same time. It was also the first time I’d eaten a nice cheeseburger in school within my entire educational lifetime… I may have to put that one on my CV one day. Oh, and I saw a frog today. That was nice.

August 16th

I hope you’re not mad at me diary for neglecting you for over a week. It’s been really quite a busy week if you ignore the general procrastination and seemingly infinite bus journeys. Unfortunately tree-gate was not concluded with my car and the disappointment of its lack of fresh air unfortunately seeped into the brakes and has since caused them to fail leaving me carless like a dinosaur waiting for a taxi in prehistoric times. That’s my theory anyway. These car inventions are awfully expensive �" although I should’ve seen the warning signs when playing Gran Turismo 5 and having to save up to buy a Bugatti Veyron. I also realised in this week how quiet this area is. Perhaps it’s the overwhelming stench of non-excitement and nothingness. I’m sure you can actually taste the lack of anything to do. It says a lot about an area when the bus stops are often the best parks for kids to play in.

August 17th

Saw a nice girl today on the bus next to me. I accidentally stroked her arm when I reached over to press the bus bell. I should probably update my relationship status on Facebook now.

August 21st

Today I’ve spent far too much time watching various television programmes and it’s led me to think there’s an underlying conspiracy with personalities on television. On Dave, which incidentally doesn’t seem to have that many people called Dave on there, there was a show about people buying things from storage lots and they were awfully angry about their auctions. It was like Cash in the Attic on cocaine. Then I came across Prime Ministers’ Questions on BBC2 which was the worst quiz show I’ve ever watched. No one even had buzzers. I lost count of what the score was but I think the judge won, or at least the man wearing the wig. Once again though everyone seemed awfully miffed and quite angry with lots of yelling as if a posh mob were upset at Waitrose allowing us peasants in for the day. This evening though I accidentally found myself with Hollyoaks on the TV and I couldn’t find the remote. Absolute disaster! Thankfully my common sense kicked in and I ran for the power plug immediately killing any loss of IQ from this propaganda of stupidity. It left me angry then, finally fulfilling the cycle of anger that transpires from TV programmes onto us as viewers. I’m onto you, pesky conspiracy.

August 25th

The summer holidays are almost over and the annual dodgy birthday party for my sister confirms that every year with her poorly timed birth, something she really should’ve been more considerate about. Isn’t it fascinating how mums have a sixth sense with birthday buffets? All year I don’t even think about small sausage rolls once and yet mums spend all year cultivating perfect ones for these buffets they seem to create from nothingness. It is also the only time I ever see trifle, a dessert that refuses to go away yet never seems to appear. Three layers of confusing goo, that’s all it’ll ever be to me. Alas, with the uncomfortable swallow of that triple evil spoonful, the summer comes to an end once more for me. Back to dodgy ties, uncomfortable blazers and more bus journeys without my now empty-of-any-fresh-air car. Oh, and Geography. Geography!

September 1st

Today was my first day back at school. I skipped breakfast because apparently time works differently out of the summer holidays. I have spent a summer writing to you diary and yet I find myself unable to write anything legible between the hours of 9am and 4pm. I couldn’t find Charlie because he apparently has a cold that has developed in such warm conditions that this summer has generally had. My uniform seems to have decreased at least 5 sizes over the last 6 weeks despite by healthy diet of daily Doritos and McDonalds and, worst of all, the common room was still locked today.

Please send help.