Sailing has finished and sir has informed us that you must go back to school for music, sorry for any inconvenience caused by this. You may go back to sailing afterwards but will have to cycle due to lack of space on the minibus, blame the year 7s and year 8s for this. We can’t be held responsible for you getting there late and no boats being left, so this will be left to your discretion if you go or not. If there is bad traffic getting home the be informed that you will not be refunded for having to have cold dinner and that you must be in bed by 9pm or a fine will be induced by guardians. DO NOT REPLY.

The sky was grey and the waves were dead, gripping to the broken tiller I aimlessly drifting to the pontoon. We were kettled into a boat too small for the capacity, being brought back to our detention centre in which we get changed. I walked up to the vending machine, it swallows my money and burps out of order at me; a sick trick only this place would induce upon a man. We was escorted through the grey, dull city of London battling the sea of suits and briefcases which have plagued this city. We arrived, led through the large iron gate into the barren concrete playground. I was assigned to music; my fate awaited me.