I stood in the line of dwadling people, waiting to get to the ticket machine. I kept glancing down at my watch to ensure I wouldn't be late, when eventually I made it to the A.T.M. like machine in the wall, payed for my pass and moved swiftly out of the way.

In a way, Tube stations are amazing, they're really fast, they go everywhere in London, they come every five minutes and they are easy to navigate a route between destinations. But in another way they are hell. Living hell.

They are always crowded, you'd be EXTREMELY lucky to get a seat, especially early in the morning and evening. There are also lots of pick-pockets and thieves, so holding money or a phone in your hand could result in it being nicked and never seen again.

But the worst thing is that it's just so busy! There is always a stream of people going down the escalators, or waiting on the platforms, so many that you can get caught up in the stampede and separated from any companions.

I fed my ticket in through the gates, pulled it out the other side and walked through, standard procedure, and made my way over to the escalators leading down to the different lines.

On the London Underground, when travelling up or down on the huge escalators, you stand on the right, so anyone in a hurry can walk faster down the other side.

It gets to the point where you don't even have to think about what train to get on, or where it will take you, it becomes second nature.

Circle Line from Tower Hill to Moorgate. Change here for Northern Line to Euston. Change here for West side stretch to Mornington Crescent.

When I boarded the tube, I was lucky enough to get a seat, which I soon had to give up for an elderly man who didn't look so elderly, more like thirty year old in and checkered jacket, farmers' cap and walking stick.

Oh well.

I spent the next ten minutes with my nose in a very tall person's armpit, clinging onto the bar above my head for dear life.

Eventually, I shoved my way out of the train at Moorgate, and crossed over to the Northern Line platform and got on the next train.

When it came I nearly stayed put and waited for the next one, but after consultation with my watch and the time it had to offer, I jumped on and prayed my project didn't get mangled in my bag.

I exited the train at Euston, boarded another one moments later and arrived in Mornington Crescent suitably shaken.

As I travelled up the steep escalator, I jogged up the left hand side as I had a ten minute walk to make and only ten to make it.

Tearing my ticket out of my pocket, a fed it through the slip in the gate, and walked through, placing it carefully back into my bag.

I jogged up the stone steps into the grey London morning, and started to walk East.

I've said it before but this is the standard procedure: walk, squeeze, train, squash, train, crush, train, squish, walk, college, then the exact same journey home.

Eventually I made it to the main gate of Central Saint Martin's College, where I was doing my "Free-Hand Design" course.

I hurried in, and made my way over to my locker, number 881, shoved in my key, unlocking the door. I thrust my coat and my laptop in, shut the cold metal door and spun round to see the one person I didn't want to be alone with.

Luke Hunter.

"Hey Nicole," he said, slyly and confidently.

"Hunter." Was all I said to acknowledge this low-life scum-bag.

"Where have you been? I haven't seen you much this morning." Every time I see him he flirts with me, and every time he flirts with me I want to wring his filthy neck!

"Let's keep it way then." I said, trying to barge past him to get to class, which started in two minutes.

"Not so fast," Hunter blocked my way, towering over me.

"What do you want?" I asked, even though I knew perfectly well.

"You're looking nice today..." He tried to say sexily, but failing dramatically.

"You're not, now move!" I attempted to push past him once again, but he wasn't having it.

"Why the harsh tone? Are you going anywhere?" He always seems to be here, all the time, day in or day out, Luke Hunter is here. I don't actually know if he goes to college here, or if he just has nothing better to do with his life.

"Please, Luke, I need to get to my class, it starting in a minute!" I tried to push him to the side, but to no avail.

So, I decided to kick him in the balls and the shin, a strode out of his grip before he knew what was happening.

Inside I was doing summersaults and cheering myself on, but that soon ended when I walked into the classroom of my strict but friendly lecturer.

"Miss Bates, why are you late? I have just finished the role." Professor Montgomery has a way of only saying short, simple sentences, but using them to tell you off in the most skilled and subtle way.

"The route I walk to the tube station was closed because of an accident last night, so I had to walk for an extra fifteen minutes, and when I got the the station it was much busier than usual Sir." I hoped he would understand, as to get in the wrong side or Professor Montgomery was a bad idea.

"Thank you Nicole, sit down." When I turned to face the class I saw my friends Lylli and Ellie at the side of the room, a spare seat beside them.

As I sat down on the cold, grey, plastic chair, Professor told us to get out our homework projects, and bring them up when he called our names out.

I always dreaded this part, because everyone could see each others, and people stared, and people commented, and people laughed.

Sometimes.

Then Monty (that's what we all called him, deal with it) said, "To recap over the details for your project; an abstract sculpture made from clay or porcelain, depicting an activity involving two or more people. It should be painted to show contrasts between moods and any sounds that are being created in the activity."

Mine was like a flame almost, or lots of flames, with choir painted in turquoise and purple fading colours. Music notes were made in 3D, sticking out from the rest of the sculpture. They were placed in patterns, not in any particular design, but going up, supported by thin wisps of clay. All of the notes were different colours, different shade of different colours.

The choir at the bottom had outstretched arms, and the background behind them was a thick, dark, blood red colour, which faded up into scarlet, the orange, then yellow, cream and eventually white at the top.

I am first in the register, as my name is "Bates" so when my name was called out, a hurriedly grabbed my sculpture and walked up to the front of the class and placed it on the big, empty desk behind Monty.

"Thank you Nicole, very good."

Monday: Writing day

Tuesday: Writing day

Wednesday: Writing Day

Thursday: I'll Love You Update

Friday: Writing day

Saturday: Writing Day

Sunday: I'll Love You update