'If you go to the library they'll give you your results'. Evidently GCSE results day isn't a great time for a twentytwo (and 9 months) year old teacher to come into school. 'Er, actually I'm the new maths teacher, where is everyone?'. At least when we start term for real I won't be wearing flared jeans and (fake) converse trainers, though it doesn't help that I'm roughly half the age of the rest of the department.

The rest of the day was spent doing a little feng shui, moving the teacher's desk to one side of the room to allow the pupils a clear firing line when I'm at the blackboard and throwing away all the rubbish left by last year's teacher: Why is there a note saying 'I hate you you f*ing ck nose'? How did a French textbook get here? Is that tube of smarties under the cupboard walking? I guess some questions are best left unanswered.