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Studying is boring and a waste of time. What's the point? I mean we work hard in primary school to earn teacher's praise and feel smart, only to work harder to keep up expectations and then work even harder to try and get into a good secondary school. When that goal has been achieved you work even harder to make a good first impression. By the time you reach year 8, you realise what a pointless thing that is and slacken down until the beginning of year 10 when horror hits and you realise it's GCSE year soon, but still not that hard because you want to laze around and play and suddenly in year 11 you break out into a fever of studying because exams are coming and all the deadlines are hitting you at the same time and you're pulling all-nighters because you didn't work that hard earlier. You think that's bad? Wait 'til sixth form. You get to year 12 and piles of knowledge are being dumped on you one by one, relentlessly trying to force their way into your already overstuffed brain. What's worse is you realise that you're only working this hard to get the good grades that will get you into university, where you can work even harder for the degree you've always dreamed of to go and work in the economy where they probably don't pay you enough for all the hard work you've done. Isn't life great?

I threw my textbook carelessly onto the desk and rolled back onto my bed where I'd been sitting. It was nice and warm so I snuggled further into the covers and rolled them around me, laughing, until I realised I was stuck in them and started to panic. A piece of advice; rolling around, flailing desperately is not the best way to attempt to untangle yourself from movement restricting objects. It generally leads to you getting injured. However, I had unfortunately not heard that advice before and rolled around, flailing desperately until I hit the wall. It was a good hit; it cleared my head and allowed me to think straight instead of panicking about how I was going to suffocate in my covers. Eventually I extracted myself from the cocoon I'd made and emerged looking somewhat dishevelled. It had to be then that my sister took a photo of me, yelling about how she was going to put it on Facebook as I ran after her in desperate attempt to snatch the camera to delete the photo. I failed, most regrettably, and now there will be pictures of looking like Medusa on the internet for the rest of eternity.

It was a cold, wet day outside but I wanted to get out instead of studying for the biology test tomorrow, so I made up an excuse, grabbed my coat and legged it out of the house into a fine mist of drizzle. There weren't many people around. I wouldn't have expected there to be really since it was now transforming from mist into a shower and the few people that were outside were starting to make a beeline towards shelter of some sort. I simply pulled up my hood and continued to walk somewhere. I wasn't really sure of where I was going, and had no intention to be until I arrived there.

After walking for ten minutes I decided now would be a good time to glance up and see where I was. My feet had taken me to the haunt of my childhood, the local playground. The place was completely empty, the ground was pitted with puddles and the metal of the climbing frame and slide were slick with water. There was a yellow balloon tied to the fence, looking rather lonesome, so I searched for a pen and pulled out a sharpie. Lucky! To cheer the lonely balloon up, I drew a happy face on it and left it to float on its own, but it was happy alone, so that was okay. The next order of business was to catch up with all the childish things I'd missed out on since I'd stupidly deemed myself too old to do them and became trapped in an endless repetition of 'I'm too old to do this.' With that fun thought in mind, I ran like a loony straight to the slide.

I spent a good ten minutes climbing up and sliding down the four metre long metal tube. Next up where the swings and, like every child aspires to, I twisted the swing until the seat was by my elbow and rather inelegantly scrambled up onto it. When on a swing, the best thing to do is swing as high as you can and try to beat the person next to you. I, however, did not have a person next to me so I went for the second best thing and swung by myself as high as I could. I would have done it standing on the seat too, if I hadn't twisted the seat up so high. If I'd tried to swing standing up, I would have knocked myself out on the metal bar at the top and anyway, the metal supports had started to make ominous creaking noises as I swung higher and higher so for reasons of safety I decided to stop and to not jump off like I would normally have done.

Playing by yourself on a see-saw never works so I ran along it, swinging my arms wildly to balance myself. In the process of swinging wildly and swaying back and forth, my house keys somehow worked themselves out of my pocket and dropped into the smelliest, most foul looking puddle I had ever seen. Pulling my keys out was not a business to be taken lightly and I had to close my eyes as I plunged my hand in to scrabble around, frantically grabbing for the keys. I managed to hook them out by the ring but this incident alerted me to the time and I ran home, jumping into as many puddles as I could find along the way.

As soon as I got home I ran to the bathroom to give myself a good long soak and warm up my now frozen feet. Really it was another excuse not to study. Whilst in the bath I managed to convince myself that I would be perfectly fine with or without study so I lazed away the rest of the day. Studying wasn't essential and forget the biology test, it's nothing.

Perhaps not. As it turned out, I screwed up the biology test so perhaps studying once in a while isn't too bad after all.