Class North, I remember it like yesterday. Spending four years together sharing the good times and a few tears along the way.

I remember our very first lesson together with Mr Catchpole and the portacabin opposite the main entrance that became our classroom.

The sound of 300 squeaky voiced kids singing 'When a Knight Won His Spurs' in assembly and getting our photo in the Evening Chronicle after we planted daffodil bulbs where houses now stand.

Long lines of children would snake around the corridors, keeping to the right hand side at all times - and remember children, DON'T RUN!

I remember burning flapjacks in Mrs Small's class after she told me three times to check them and in the room opposite, watching a cartoon to help us understand what sex was and why it happens.

I remember learning how vicious girls are with hockey sticks when we played boys against girls in the yard and I got my shins hacked off by the two Emma's.

The French Day we had when everyone paid £1 to dress in red, white and blue and the Christmas disco's when girls stayed on one side of the hall and the boys stayed on the other.

I remember the smell of smoke every time we walked into Mrs McKenzie's class and being bored to tears in Mr Brown's IT lessons and praying I didn't get picked to stand up in Mrs White's English class to recite the poems that nobody bothered to memorise.

I remember The Lakes, being woken up to sit in the canteen while Mr Potter spat his dummy out because a tent got damaged.

On the way to France, Dawn hitting the £100 jackpot on the arcades before we all started to get sea sick on the ferry and all the lads sitting on the beach one evening, waiting for the girls, listening to Mr Dinsley explaining how the Mulberry Harbour was used during WW2 D-Day landings.

And then we went to Wales which was outstanding. Abseiling, canoeing, windsurfing, rock climbing, quarry jumping from any height you dared (the girls won that one). A huge rope swing over the river and a night camping in the woods listening to spooky stories. To this day - best holiday ever.

I also remember how old everyone seemed to us. 18 was the age we all wanted to be, but anything over 30 was old and meant grey hair and slippers. Not that it mattered, we were all too busy being young to worry about getting old.

I know we had our moments but it always makes me smile thinking back to the time we spent at Lemington Middle School.