Its raining. Pitter patter ect.
Anyway, my name's Amber Paterson, yes, with one 't'. I live in north London, aka: the rain. I go to a creul Nazi camp, oh sorry, a "school", every day. But today is a sad sad day. We're back, and it's year 8! This means that we're not the munchkins with no expectations to live up to, the ones with Irish Mr. Howely, or grumpy Ms. Emery, the "teachers". I quote "Year eight, we now have even higher expectations. You've moved up a year, which means nearly in year nine, and then, its GCSE's. Be scared be very scared, because then you will hold a bit of paper with your marks on it and you WILL be disappointed because if you don't listen and wear you tie with five stripes you will have failed!". And all this was done with an Irish accent by Mr Howely, who is also our head of year.
Well i can think of nothing else to blog about right now, so, in the words of old Arnie Swarzenegger: I'll be back