A day in the life of Jonathan Beesley.

... A day in the life of Jonathan Beesley It's the winter term and it's another day at school. Severn thirty, and there's the recognizable sound of my room mate's alarm clock that vibrates against the desk before falling off the side. I roll out of bed like an elephant rolling into a mud bath. While dressing, my eyes become accustomed to the light. It's cold outside and the snow from last night has turned into a mushy paste. As I stroll down for breakfast at around eight o'clock, I smell a freshly cooked breakfast; after reading the sports section of The Times, I return to my room where I prepare the books for my first three lessons. On my way to morning lessons and I'm walking in the brown slush that covers the ground for miles around. The school bell clangs harshly just as I enter the I.C.T centre. The

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