It’s September, which means your colleagues with children have a spring in their step. Crack out the gin, it’s back to school time.

Now is the perfect moment to offload a heap of tedious work on workmates in Canary Wharf who are parents – they’ll be so happy the long summer holidays are over they won’t care.

Despite never having a clue when half term or Easter is, I can always feel the start of autumn.

After years spent trying to learn algebra, German verbs, and whatever else my memory has now blanked out, I can’t shake the feeling September heralds the beginning of a new year.

My stay in Edinburgh University student accommodation for the recent festival didn’t help.

I kept waking up and having flashbacks, thinking I needed to get to the library. Now I’m home, and a cool 14 years since I sat my last exam, I keep dreaming I haven’t studied for one tomorrow.

There’s so much deep seated educational anxiety embedded in me it’s a miracle I made it out of my comprehensive alive.

If it were survival of the fittest, I would’ve been left at the side of the sports field clutching a jar of Kalms and downing Rescue Remedy.

Apart from the low level thrumming anxiety associated with coursework and the fear I won’t have the right protractor, I love this time of year. This is my fresh start. Like it was when considering A-Levels and degree course options.

Remember when we believed our subject choices would have an effect on our eventual careers? It’s a time of promise.

Opportunity. Hope. The first step on the path of the rest of your life. Now, if you excuse me I need to get going, I don’t want to get another detention for being late.

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