Hello, it's me again. Except this time I've got that lovely little slip of paper that I told you all about. That long, yellow, all-deciding strip of goodness. I guess you've gathered by now that I did rather well. Well, quite well, actually. Let's just say I passed everything, even the dreaded Bus. Org. and that I was delighted by my, ahem, A2 and B3. Not being explicit or anything, I suppose I could tell you I got the exact amount of points I wanted. But you'll just have to use your imagination to guess what I'm doing to celebrate.

But I'll admit that this morning was a different story. I could not eat a thing. I had to listen to an English radio station, because it was the only one not discussing the ins and outs of the points system. It took me 10 minutes to get ready, instead of 45. All highly unusual. So, Watson, it can be deduced that the girl in question was a jittering bag of nerves.

As the envelope was handed to me I felt as though I was going to get sick. I have always been told to rip the plaster off a cut quickly, because it hurts less. Unfortunately, I am from the "ease it off bit by bit" school. But today I was courageous and I slashed that envelope open and tore out those marks. Talk about an anti-climax. I had great expectations, not of what I would get, but of what I would feel when I got them. After seeing people on the news every year screaming or bawling their eyes out I expected either complete Dangerous Liaisons-type grief, or delirious joy. Nope. They must have run out of thunderbolts and happy-making drugs before I left.

And it only took me 10 minutes to open the results. At one o'clock some people were still carrying theirs around, afraid to open the envelope, afraid to go home without opening it. Mothers were being called, voices were being raised, and points were being added up. I saw a few crestfallen faces and red-rimmed eyes, but all in all, people were happy enough.

I must apologise for a mistake I made the other day when I stated that the Leaving Cert wasn't over until I knew what I got. Wrong. It's still going on. Now I have to wait until next week to see if I got a place in any college; just because I may have the points, doesn't mean I get in (Oh, the injustice of it all . . . ). There's always some reason why the points will go up this year: because it's free, because you'll have to pay in England next year, because of all the repeats . . . I just hope a load of thick students applied for the course I want to do; at least then I have a chance.

Well, I'm heading off to be very immature and childish, and do lots of silly things that I will regret in the morning, but I'd just like to say thank you to all the people who helped and supported me this year when I needed it most. Cheers. See you next year . . .!