Granny's done it again.

I must be bonkers as I have yet again enrolled for another year of hell courtesy of Burton College.

You would have thought that I had learnt my lesson (no pun intended) the first time, but no, glutton for punishment, there is life in the old bag yet.

On managing to pass my first year Foundation in AAT, I was quite spurred on to invest in another year of torture.

Since embarking on this epic adventure, I have now hit the big 50. There is no turning back as I haven't got many years left and these are years I can ill afford to waste.

I went along to the college like a good old granny should and completed the necessaries to enable me to commence the AAT Intermediate. I had a new photo taken - to prove that I am a student and which enables me to have lots of discounts in various shops in Burton.

I have only taken the opportunity of discounts a couple of times as I have always felt uncomfortable at letting the shopkeepers know that an old granny can be a student.

They do look at me a bit queer when I tell them I am a student and then I have to rummage around in me bag to get the damned card out to prove it. I am sure they still don't believe me even though my photo is sprawled across the top of it.

My first class was yesterday (10th September). I went marching through the college doors like an old pro and I gave out death stares and barged into as many other students as possible (that's what you do isn't it when you are at college) and I felt quite a home.

Queueing up for the class it looked better than last years prospects. No kids - maybe just a smattering. Innit and Random were there from last year, but Cool was nowhere to be seen. There was only one three witches from Eastwick too. The others must have gone off on their brooms to warmer climes.

The tutor - well what can I say about him that's kind. He's my age but still living in the era of the 70/80's. He has long blond curly permed hair tied into a pony tale with a nice little neat black ribbon done up in a bow! (God I hope he doesn't read this as I have probably shot me arrow before I have started).

There are 28 of us crammed into a tiny classroom. We are sitting at tables that are designed to accommodate one, but now seat two. There is no air in the classroom as the windows open an inch (that's to stop you committing suicide should the lesson get to much) and when these are open, there isn't anything to stop them banging shut, so its bang bang bang bang bang. Then blondie shuts them so no one can breathe.

The room stinks of orrible sweaty trainers so it's like being trapped in one big sweaty shoe. Its no good if you like your own personal space, because you aint got none in this environment.

The first lesson was all about final accounts and I waited in anticipation for blondie to start writing stuff on the blackboard in front. This year I am crammed into a seat at the front instead of being at the back like last year and having my view obscured by lovely old Vic, who wasn't with us this term.

Apparently, so I am told by blondie, that there is a new policy in place at the college that the use of black boards should be discouraged and that the electronic white boards should be used instead. That's fine - I am all for new technology etc. except this bloody white board is situated on the side walls of the room, but the desks all face forwards.

Try sitting looking at a white board with your neck twisted for 6 hours - it aint fun and its not funny.

Blondie was oblivious to this and didn't seem to see our heads bobbing from side to side every time we had to copy down stuff from the board. I was feeling a big queasy by the end of it all, it was like being on a ship and having sea-sickness.

The content of the lesson is hard going and we have stepped up a notch from last year. Half of the class have already done the 2nd year and have failed so are re-sitting. This makes it difficult for us newbies as blondie ploughs on full steam ahead forgetting that some are being left behind.

Then there is a gob on a stick - some Irish bint who keeps shouting out all the answers and not giving anyone the chance to open their mouth, even though the questions aren't aimed at her.

By the time the end of the lesson came I was in a stupor - not drunken which I would have preferred. I was brain dead and didn't know what had hit me.

I went to sit in my car for an hour before the next 3 hour stint. Gemma my daughter rang me to see how I was getting on, I was determined not to cry into my handbag as I did last year. But she must bring out the emotional side of me. I could feel my voice wobbling when I was talking to her and once again there she was telling me it will get better as each week passes.

The evening session wasn't so crowded, there are only 16 of us, so it was a bit more bearable. The lesson was hard and again, blondie took no prisoners. He's an odd bloke not sure what to make of him yet. He's very sexist and likes his jokes about women and tends to put them down.

He is crap on the computer and makes the students do his typing so it appears on the white board. Its like being back at school as we have to take it in turns to read out aloud different paragraphs of the subject material. You can tell that I am really warming to this chappie can't you.

We have plenty of homework to keep us busy over the coming week and blondie has given us a list of items we need to buy for his next lesson.

I can see me getting lines or detention as I feel quite rebellious at times.

Bring it on Blondie.