I AM A student again! It all began in late summer when the shops were packed with school uniforms and shiny shoes. That familiar tingle of apprehension and excitement overwhelmed me and I wanted to join in. I craved a 'new pencil box moment' too.
It was clinched when I heard about a friend's preparations for her son's impending journey from Uxbridge to Brighton University, reminding me of when we left Fisher Junior with new pots and pans and the thrilling anticipation of a new life.
It never ever really goes away, does it? The excitement of a fresh start - in adult life we experience it with new jobs, homes and relationships. So, after surfing one's net (better than washing them) I settled on an MA Creative and Professional Writing course at Brunel University.
It would be a completely different discipline to journalism and involve lots of reading too, which I enjoy.
Mr F and I were on a cruise in the Med when I heard via the wonders of email that I had been accepted. Would it have been by telegraph in the old days? Or semaphore?.
As soon as I returned from holiday I was whisked off for registration, induction and various talks, including being told to be considerate to our neighbours - local residents will be pleased to hear this.
In honour of my former, young student days, I went to a poster sale on campus and was amazed to find the choices were dominated by the likes of Audrey Hepburn, Jimi Hendrix and Marilyn Monroe. I chose David Bowie.
The biggest change in studying that I have discovered so far is that everything is now geared to webbased learning. Tutors also communicate with their groups this way. I've just about worked it out, I think.
I have also picked up my student union card, which I'm told may lead me to cheap pizzas and tickets to concerts, sorry... gigs.
But will they look at me quizzically and demand proof that I am indeed a student; the reverse of needing proof of age to buy booze?
One person who's enjoying my return to studies is Mr F, who delights in handing me a cup of tea in the morning (whatever the time) with the cry: "Bloody students. Lounging around in bed all day."
Amazingly, even with numerous books and folders and the Bowie poster cluttering up the bedroom, he hasn't suggested I move into halls of residence ... yet.