As I'm going back to school tomorrow, for the first time in what feels like ages, I decided to have a massive clearout of the school-y section of my storage space in my bedroom, as it was getting to the point where there was such a huge pile-up of both junk and important things, that I couldn't locate the latter when I needed it. I've finally found that copy of Antigone that I thought I'd lost. Anyway, there's currently a massive black bag filled with out-of-date forms, practise exam papers, and books from GCSE year, of all things.

I realised several things amidst my massive tidy:

• Like my Dad, my nostalgia gets in the way too much. I retain schoolbooks that are fairly useless to me now (such as History exercise books on Russia and Nazi Germany, from last year), because I did so much work that I can't bear to get rid of them. Plus, I keep convincing myself that they'll be useful. All the junk in this bedroom that is completely useless fits that description, and those reasons. Our attic is the same. We've lived in this house for sixteen years, and our entire life history is stored up in the roof; old LPs, books from when Joe and I were kids, ancient computers, boxes of Christmas decorations, etc, etc. Mum has been nagging Dad to clear it out for years, but he never has. I think me and my Dad are one of the same when it comes to clearouts. We're useless at them.

• I have done so much work over the past three years at school and, without meaning to boast, I am SO proud of myself. Especially this year; I started studying Politics without any real knowledge of what it would entail, and now I have a year's worth of work stuffed into an overflowing folder; work that I never would have understood a year ago, and work that I'm so proud that I did. Similarly with English; I had to delve into the strata of poems and books and notes that have accumalated over the past couple of years, and I love what I've done. From Keats to Donne, from Death of a Salesman to Paradise Lost, it's all been brilliant. Chaucer and Measure for Measure now. I can't wait!

• Oh my God, Oh my God, OH MY GOD, this room is an appalling mess. To the naked eye, it looks fine; could do with a hoover and some heavy-duty dusting, but it seems fine. Delve underneath the service and everything turns to crap. I'm going to need a bulldozer to rid myself of some of this. I started tidying my school stuff, and it brought to light how desperately the rest of it needs a clean. I need a long-haul tidying session. I may have to dedicate next weekend to cleaning. (Having said that, you should have seen Tara's room when I was last round there. And my brother's room. I'm almost tempted to take a picture of it; ever since he came back from University, it's been like Dresden in there. Urgh. It's smaller than mine, and has a little less storage space, but still.)

I need to hoover, and dust, and spray, and clear everything OUT. Preferably when everyone else is out of the house.

I'll stick to the school-refuse for now. But I'll kick some bedroom arse next week. Or possibly over various nights this week, if I don't have too much homework.

Rosby out, with a massive black bag of bad Science lesson memories, and terrible handwriting, dancing to the Glenn Miller CD that's playing in the background.

P.S. Also, an entire shelf is dedicated to University prospectuses. There are dozens of them. HELP ME. PANIC.