The beginning of every school year started out the same way – christening the first blank page of my brand new exercise books …

Writing the date in the top right-hand corner, my usual scribble was an example of pristine penmanship on this first page – feeling slightly guilty about the trees that died for the sake of maths mysteries and diabolical biological diagrams.

Also, this ritual meant that the year had begun.

The blank pages would soon be filled with inky facts, equations, and anxiety (mostly due to the equations). The whole year stretched on ahead, glaring at me like a grumpy librarian with her hands on her lips.

The only respite from the monotony of classes and cliques and cheese sandwiches were a few intermittent weeks of blissful holiday.

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Oh how I long for those days …

I’m a big girl now. With a big girl job, in a big girl world. And although I don’t miss a single second of school itself, I desperately miss the way time used to ooze through the terms like sticky toffee. There was nothing longer than a Friday afternoon science lesson on Bohr’s atomic theory (never has a man been so aptly named), or the everlasting five minutes before the end of term.

There was nothing longer than a Friday afternoon science lesson on Bohr’s atomic theory

Today, in my big girl world, I signed a waybill for a courier. 18 August, 2016. I almost choked.

Five seconds ago I was wrapping last-minute Christmas presents and making New Year’s resolutions I knew I wouldn’t keep.

Where the hell has the year gone?!

It seems an unfair law of the universe that once you are old enough to actually appreciate time, it’s gotten seriously p*ssed off with you, and has spitefully set your life on ‘fast-forward’ to ensure you go hurtling to your inevitable end in a state of roller-coaster terror having forgotten to turn the proverbial stove off.

Plus it gives you wrinkles.

And that is why I’m going to spend this weekend with my wine, pyjamas, and adult colouring book. Because maybe, just maybe, the new pages, pencil sharpenings, and tears of desperation will make time forgive me, and bring back the sticky-toffee days of happiness.