And I'm back in Leeds.

I have moved into my new house, which is so obviously a perfect party house!, and I have been spending time getting to know my new house mates, who I can confirm are lovely. All my stuff is in my new bedroom, which is probably the tiniest bedroom ever, and although a bit of a shock at first after last year's beautiful purple bedroom complete with real floorboards and skylight, has quickly become nice and cosy. Until Tim comes to visit and it becomes a miniature prison cell with no visible floorspace, probably.

Classes and lessons (what little I have of them - I'm a history student, remember) start next week. This year's classes are as follows:

• Italian Merchants in the Twelfth Century
• Special Subject: The Reign of Edward II
• The Age of Chivalry and Knighthood
• Dissertation: as yet, unknown

Doesn't it sound thrilling?!

*silence*

Well, I'm excited!

Speaking of excitement, the university is simply abuzz (such a word?) with fresh-faced first-years. I remember what it was like to be a fresher - talking to absolutely anyone within reach who stands still long enough, whether it be on a bus, in a queue or in a lift, in order to make as many friends as possible, as quickly as possible. Just now, I was waiting for a lift in my department and two sprightly looking girls bounded up to me, and one asked what floor I was going to. I replied "Floor 3". She replied "Me too!". The three of us got into the lift together and the other sprightly girl asked the first one, "Are you a first-year? Are you off to meet your personal tutor?" To which the first girl replied, with the most energetic head-nodding I have ever seen, "Yes! Yes I am!". Then they both turned to me and asked me in unison, "Are you a first-year? Are you meeting your personal tutor?!" To which I replied, "No, I'm a third-year and I'm going to pick up my timetable" (to their obvious disapointment - after all, what fun are boring old finalists, ay?). They both then wandered off, happily chattering to each other, new best friends for life. No sooner had I picked up my timetable ( a mere 30 seconds after exiting the lift) than the first first-year ran up to me and begged me to show her how to get to floor such-and-such in building such-and-such for her meeting, which she was TWO WHOLE GHASTLY MINUTES LATE FOR, which I very kindly did, because I am that generous and kind a person.

Aw. Freshers. Bless 'em.

On a side note, may someone (most probably Marie) please explain to me how on earth Martha can be Alf's granddaughter?! She cannot possible be Duncan's child, as she is at least a year older than him, and to my knowledge, Roo (or whatever) does not have a daughter. After being away for nearly a month, I have astonished myself with how quickly I have got back up to date with all my fave soaps, both UK and Aussie based, almost as if I had never been away, in fact. I don't really know if this is a testiment to my soap 'skills' (as it were) or is a demonstration of how bad these programmes are, in that in four weeks nothing has changed. However, despite all this, the whole Martha-thing has me stumped.

And ALSO, I would like to make a H&A statement -

ZOE IS THE SUMMER BAY STALKER!

I would like it to be noted, in advance of when the plot unfolds, that I knew first! (Unless, of course I am wrong, then I shall deny all knowledge.) As of yet, I haven't figured out why she would be the stalker, although I think it will probably be Sarah-related.